Page 49 of Saving Scarlett
After we were both clean, he wrapped me in a towel, leading me to the only bedroom in the cottage.
Standing in the dimly lit bedroom, I could feel Ethan’s eyes on me, studying my body with a mixture of concern and desire. The adrenaline from our battle against the Mob was still coursing through my veins, making me feel more alive than ever, but it had taken its toll.
“Scarlett,” he murmured, his fingers gently tracing over a particularly nasty bruise on my ribcage. “You’re hurt.”
“I’ll be okay,” I reassured him, wincing at the tenderness of his touch. “What about you?”
He shrugged, attempting to brush off the question, but I wasn’t going to let him off that easily. Stepping closer to him, I ran my hand over the hard planes of his chest and felt the scars hidden beneath the inked canvas of his skin. Each one told a story of survival and pain, of the price he’d paid for the life he’d chosen.
“Your body has been through so much,” I whispered, my fingertips brushing against a jagged scar above his heart. “Yet here you are, still standing, still fighting.”
“Only because of you.” His voice was husky and raw. “I wouldn’t have made it this far without you, mon joli petit amant. I’d do anything to keep you safe.”
The words sent shivers down my spine, and I could not take my gaze away from his piercing blue eyes. As if sensing my needs, he guided me to the bed, climbing in next to me. Moonlight filtered through the curtains, casting an ethereal light that soothed my frayed nerves.
“Then let me take care of you,” I whispered, pressing a tender kiss to the scar beneath my fingers. “You need it as much as I do.”
He watched me intently as I laid out the contents of the first aid kit on the bed, never looking away from my movements as I dipped a cotton ball in antiseptic and held it toward a slice on his hand. “Are you ready?”
“Always,” he replied in the deep, velvety tone that soothed, yet ignited me.
Taking a deep breath, I cleaned his wounds, my touch as gentle as I could make it when my hands were still shaking. Although his body grew tense with every wound I dabbed at, he never winced or flinched. Instead, he watched me, a mixture of gratitude and something deeper, more profound, in his gaze.
When I was finished, he took a fresh cotton ball and murmured, “Your turn.”
His hands, so rough when they needed to be, were also incredibly tender, as if he was pouring all his love and care into every touch, every swipe of a cotton ball, every bandage.
“Thank you,” I whispered, feeling the sting of the antiseptic fade away under his touch. “For everything.”
There were a thousand unspoken words that passed between us in that instant as our eyes locked. I knew without a doubt that we had found something extraordinary in each other, as unlikely as that seemed.
“Scarlett, you don’t have to thank me. I would do it all again in a heartbeat.”
“Promise me.” My heart pounded.
“Always,” he assured me, sealing his promise with a tender kiss on my lips. “No matter what life throws at us, I’ll always be there for you.”
With the last bandage secured, the magnetic attraction grew stronger between us. I lay back on the bed and he crawled over me, never breaking eye contact as his eyes filled with a storm of emotions mirroring my own.
“Little Red.” His lips brushed against mine, sending shivers down my spine. “I need you.”
“Show me.”
Threading my fingers into his hair, I pulled him closer, our kisses hungry–desperate. His strong hands gripped my hips, pulling me even closer as if determined to erase any distance between us. The taste of him was intoxicating, and I couldn’t get enough.
‘Tell me what you want,“ he whispered, his voice a tempting growl that sent heat rising in my body.
The fire burning within me was fueled by the intensity of our connection, and only he could quench it. “Touch me.” My voice was a mere breath as I rolled my body against him.
Taking his time, he glided his fingers over my skin like a master painter working on a masterpiece. Each brush of his fingertips ignited my body as though it were a flaming match. I reciprocated, feeling both his strength and vulnerability as my hands traced along his muscular form. It was when I traced the tattoos adorning his body that I was struck by how much they reflected his life—a life shaped by darkness, pain, and sacrifice.
“Your touch is like magic,” he confessed, his breath hot against my ear as he continued to explore my body with reverence. “I’ve never felt anything like this.”
“Neither have I.” Although we hadn’t known each other for long, my heart swelled with love for the man who’d helped me discover my own strength. “We’re in this together, Ethan.”
“Always,” he whispered, his eyes locked on mine. Ethan’s lips trailed down my neck, sending electricity through to my core.
“I need you, Little Red,” he murmured between kisses.