Suddenly, this moment just got a lot bigger.
Giving him my first name had been a change, but not a huge risk. Scarlett is a common enough name that I could still hide in a city of eight million people. But giving him my full name… that’s another level of trust.
Do I want to trust Nico with it?
The answer is louder and more obvious than I expected it to be.
“It’s…Scarlett Adler,” I tell him softly.
A loud exhale rushes from Nico. I wonder what he thought my answer would be.
“Scarlett Adler,” he repeats. And just the way he says it, thewonderwith which he says it, tells me I made the right decision. I want him to say my name over and over now.
And then a slow grin slides across his face.
“What?”
“I just realized something. Even before you told me your real name, I was calling you by your name. In a way.” When I tilt my head in confusion, he says, “Red? Scarlett? It’s the same thing.”
Surprised laughter bursts out of me. “How did I never realize that? I guess that should’ve been my sign.”
It’s adorable how proud he looks. I want to tease him about it, but when he yawns, I realize how late it is. And while I slept for over twelve hours last night, Nico was probably up for most of it.
I try not to hate myself for the way Nico tenses up and purposefully keeps his focus away from the front door, because I know he’s scared to ask me to stay for fear of me saying no. Little does he know, all I can think about is how I didn’t get to enjoy sleeping in his arms last night.
“It’s pretty late,” I say simply. “Is it okay if I stay the night again?”
Guilt settles heavy in my stomach when the relief makes his shoulders relax. The desire to do something forhimtakes over, so I ask, “Can we take a shower?”
My wording makes him hesitate. “We?”
I nod and take his hand. “If you feel like joining me.”
He watches me for a moment. “Always, Scarlett.”
Smiling, I stand and pull him to his feet, then lead both of us toward the bedroom. Once we’re inside the bathroom, I switch the shower on, then turn to lift Nico’s shirt off.
He raises his arms and lets me pull it over his head, clearly skeptical about my intentions. But he doesn’t stop me as I push his sweats down over his hips. When I kneel before him to tug his boxer briefs down and guide his feet to step out of his clothes, he watches me like a hawk, tension running through every muscle of his body. He thinks I’m trying to make things sexual again.
But when I ignore his hard cock between us and stand, his expression shifts to curiosity. He watches as I lift my own shirt off—his shirt—and then his sweatpants. When I step into the shower, he follows me without hesitation.
I reach immediately for the body wash. My intention for this shower wasn’t to initiate sex, or to create another situation where he tries to care for me. It was to care forhim.
At first, he doesn’t react when I guide him under the water. But when I swap our positions and lather up his loofah to brush it over his shoulders, he says, “You don’t have to do that. You never have to take care of me.”
I press a light kiss to his chest before brushing the loofah over the muscle. “I know,” I whisper.
I watch his throat move on a rough swallow. “Is this because I took care of you last night?”
Smiling, I press another kiss to his skin, this one to his throat. “No. It’s because Iwantto take care of you.” Peeking up at him, I add, “To repeat a very sweet—and very pushy—man, will you just let me?”
His relieved laugh fills the shower enclosure, the sound warming me more than the water hitting my back. “Yes, ma’am.”
I take my time washing his body. Selfishly, I want tolookat him. I want to appreciate every hard-earned muscle, every scar he’s received from fighting and from growing up with two brothers. I want to seehim.
I stay away from his cock, but he’s still breathing heavily when I stand from washing his legs. I’m just as turned on as he is, but I don’t give in to the urge to take him in hand. I just lead him to spin so I can wash his back.
“Can I wash you, too?” he asks, his voice like gravel.
