Page 72 of Scarlet Angel

“Did you…” I don’t think she did, but there’s no point in putting her on the spot. Next time I’ll do a better job, pay closer attention.

Her fingers touch my skin, graze through my beard, and tug. “I enjoyed it. That was…freeing.”

I tug her to me, into my chest. The beating of her heart penetrates my chest. And then I do something highly uncharacteristic of me after sex, but it’s the only thing I want.

I kiss her.

CHAPTER18

SCARLET

In the bathroom, I study my reflection.

Reddish pink splotches scatter across my normally ghost-white skin. Deeper red marks dot my neck. I strain into the light.Did he mark me? Or is that beard burn?

My palm covers my nipple, and I’m hit with the feel of his mouth and tongue. My core tightens in response.

I did it.

I took the last step to recovery. I had sex. And I enjoyed it. I wanted it.

Vincent is no longer my only.

I can honestly say I’m now glad I didn’t force myself to have sex with just anyone to get it off my list. Nick…it’s like he understood what I needed and could handle it.

He was gentle, and what just happened in there…in that room…it’s so unlike any of my prior experiences. Even before Vincent turned vile, it was never like that with us. He was?—

Knock. Knock.

“You okay in there?”

I reach for a towel hanging on a knob and pull it to my chest, then crack the door open.

“I’m going to shower.”

One eyebrow lifts and he smirks. “Want company?”

I giggle. The ridiculous sound bubbles out, and the sound is unnatural and freakish.

“I’m not sure I’m ready for that.”

He narrows his eyes. “Why?” His gaze lowers to the clutched towel. “You know, that’s quite unnecessary.”

I look to the ceiling, smiling like a loon.

“Let me shower. I’ll see you in a bit.”

He sighs and runs his fingers through his hair. “Fine. I suppose I should shower, too. I’ve got a slate of meetings. But for the record, I don’t care to shower alone.”

“How sad for you.”

He narrows his eyes and wiggles a finger at me. I lean forward and snap my teeth as if I’m going to take his finger off, but he gathers me up, towel and all, pushes me right up against the doorframe, and kisses me thoroughly.

When he breaks away, he taps my nose. “You are a tease.”

“I am not,” I shout at his retreating back. We had sex. He can hardly call me a tease.

I don’t know why I wasn’t ready to shower with him. I stood before him naked, but I felt… I’m not sure. Exposed. Raw. I need time to process. One thing I learned in therapy is that listening to yourself is important. I don’t need to understand all the whys, I simply need to hear myself. Or maybe it’s not simple at all.

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