CHAPTER NINETEEN
Scarlett
A man has never carriedme anywhere. A man has never revealed his soul to me. A man has never looked at me the way Austin is looking at me as I lie in the center of his queen-size bed. He’s on his side, facing me, twirling a strand of my hair around his finger.
“I was kidding about bribing you with my story for sex,” he says.
“Then, why did you bring me to your bedroom?” I’m not sure I considered what his bedroom would look like, but with the cherrywood-finished floors, black-stained furniture, and light gray decor, it fits him. The air around us smells like him too. I know medical personnel are clean people, and he’s no exception. I’ve never smelled anything besides soap and laundry detergent when near him, although there’s a hint of pine in his room, and it’s like a pinch of spice.
“A man can hope, plus Waldocanreally do a number on a room.” He follows with a quiet snicker that tells me he’s a bit unsure of our situation.
“I’m still trying to wrap my head around the fact that you were avoiding me until I decided whether I was staying in South Carolina or not.”
He scratches the back of his head, the part of his hair that’s shaven closely to his skin, and his right eye squints a little as a smile teases his lips. “Yeah, well, I wanted to be sure you weren’t the type to have your way with me and then run off.”
“So, I take it you’ve changed your mind, and you’re willing to risk your heart for a night with me?” I know my questions are digging deep, but I’m curious what made him change course when his feelings and heart are buried so deeply for such a traumatic reason.
He clears his throat and readjusts his position as if my questions are making him nervous. “Honestly, I can’t help that you turn me on. I’m still a dude, and aside from the fact that you’re hot as hell, your personality makes me tick.”
“I’m used to men talking themselves up, convincing me I’d enjoy them rather than they’d enjoy me, so your words are kind of a turn on for me.”
“Well, then, the truth is, I’d rather experience a little time with you, whatever that may consist of, than have to wonder for the rest of my life what itmighthave been like. I’m just sorry I wasted two long weeks.”
“Just before we met at the festival, I had made my decision about staying here or going home,” I tell him.
“Why’d you tell me you hadn’t?”
“The same reason you disappeared. I didn’t want anything between us to be based on a future when we hadn’t yet experienced anything in the present.”
“So then, what’s the decision?” he asks. I can see how nervous he is to hear my answer as he swallows hard and balls his fists, but I want to know what this is between us without strings attached. I don't want there to be a pull or a push.
I press my lips together and look into his eyes. “I’m not ready to tell you,” I whisper. As the words come out, I question whether he might be upset with me after just opening up about his past, but I think he understands why I don’t want to tell him yet, seeing as he’s kicking his boots off.
Austin slowly straddles my waist, giving me a view I might want to burn into my mind. I’ve noticed he likes to wear t-shirts that are a size too small. Whether it’s for show, I’m not sure, but it looks great from my perspective. He places his hands on the ends of the pillow my head is pressed into, then lowers himself down, inch by inch, until I’m ready to grab ahold of his shirt and pull him on top of me.
“In the south, we move a little slower. I think you mentioned something about that earlier, didn’t you?”
“Possibly,” I mutter.
“Mmm. Do you know why that is?” I nod because I’m having trouble putting words together at the moment. “Well ... ” He gently presses his lips to my neck, letting them linger for a long second. “It makes the good things last a little longer.”
Oh my God, I’m not a patient girl. He moves up, touching his lips to mine so softly it’s as if a feather is stroking every inch of me at once. His tongue flicks into my mouth for a teasing moment before his lips continue to explore, becoming acquainted with my ear, neck, and collarbone. I’m in pain with anticipation, waiting for more.
With a hand still holding him up, Austin’s other one is slipping beneath the thin layer of my shirt. Every place his fingers touch causes a burning desire, all while his mouth amplifies the build by tugging my shirt down with his teeth.
“Are you going to torture me?” I ask with more weakness than I’ve ever let a person hear from me.
“I am going to torture you until you tell me to stop even though you didn’t give me that same option earlier tonight, did you? You were mean, Miss Scarlett, making me imagine that shot glass was my cock.” His words are like nails gently scratching my back and I’m already about to cry out his name with a plea for more.
I reach down for the hem of his shirt, trying to pull it up, but he stops me. “No, ma’am. A true Southern gentleman does the heavy lifting.” While I might argue that in all other parts of life, I’m okay with this type of control.
He sits up, careful not to bear all his weight on my waist and crosses his arms over his body to seamlessly remove his tight shirt. I saw him shirtless in the locker room earlier, and I nearly lost the ability to speak. Seeing him take his shirt off this close to me makes it hard to take in a breath.
I just want to touch him, so I trace my fingertips down the length of his right arm, over the several tattoos stretching from shoulder to forearm. The closeness between us allows me to get a better look at the one on his chest—words that reveal the missing pieces of his heart. I touch the inked marking with caution before dragging my fingers down the center of his body. “I thought I said hands off, Miss Scarlet.” He’s grinning with a bit of seriousness, but also, a touch of intrigue.
“I can’t help it,” I tell him.
“As a medical professional, I need that arm of yours to stay put somewhere safe while I handle the rest. Do you understand?”
