Page 49 of Don't Make Me Beg
“Luka, I’m so sorry, I?—”
“Goddammit, Scout. Stop apologizing,” I say through clenched teeth, the anger inside me growing hotter by the second. I spin to face her, my hands bracketing on either side of the counter as her wide, terror-filled eyes stare back at me.
I’ve always known she was a little skittish and jumpy, and it isn’t hard to put together why. I blink back the visions my mind so unhelpfully supplies as a way of explanation for Scout’s overreaction as I try to calm my boiling rage.
She may not be mine…not really…but it doesn’t stop the possessiveness inside me from rearing its ugly head anyway. I force myself to breathe as my eyes zero in on her, noting the rapid rise and fall of her chest and her dilated pupils. She may be afraid of my reaction, but her body tells me she’s feeling more than fear and embarrassment.
There’s something in the way that she’s looking at me, like she’s hopeful? I can’t be sure. All I know is there’s an energy between us, stretching and pulling with every move I make. Our lips are a breath away.
“Wait here.” I push off the counter and leave her as I walk back to the dining room, returning with a full glass of wine in my hand.
“Here.” I place the glass in her hand and take a step back. I’m standing across from her with my arms crossed and my back pressed against the kitchen island.
She doesn’t drink the wine, her brows pulling together as her eyes bounce around the room like she’s confused.
“Now I want you to pour that glass of wine on the floor,” I say.
She looks up at me in confusion and shakes her head. “What? No. Why would I do that?”
“Because I told you to,” I fire right back.
“Luka, I’m not going to make another mess in your parents’ house.”
“Pour the wine on the floor, Scout. It’s tile. The floor will be fine.” My voice is clipped and commanding as I nod for her to do as I said.
A moment passes and I’m not sure if she’s going to do it, but then I see that flare in her eyes, that spark that has my whole body on fire.
Come on. Just do it. I mentally urge her, my eyes watching her more intently than I ever have.
She bites her lip as if she’s considering it…and then she slowly tilts the glass, and I hear the stream of liquid splash against the hard floor.
My chest swells with triumph at her obedience as my gaze zeros in on her flushed cheeks, and I see the instant her body starts to panic. But rather than letting it happen, this time I take a step closer, tilting her chin so her eyes meet mine and whisper, “Listen… Do you hear that?” Silence stretches between us as I wait a moment longer to make my point. “No one is yelling at you.”
I brush a strand of hair out of her face, and she sucks in a gasp as I move in closer. “You just spilled that entire glass of wine all over the floor. It’s getting all over your feet, and still, no one’s screaming at you.”
Her eyes quickly fill with tears at my words, so I keep going. “It’s fine. You’re okay. Nobody’s mad at you. Everything’s fine. It was an accident. It can easily be cleaned up.”
The more I reassure her, the more upset she seems to become as the streams of tears fall down her cheeks. Her swollenlips tremble like she’s holding back a sob, and I can feel my fucking heart aching for her to see how upset she is.
I keep my eyes locked on hers as I continue speaking the reassuring words over and over as if I’m rewiring her brain’s reaction. Giving her grace and understanding rather than the anger and rage her body’s normally accustomed to receiving during moments like this.
I don’t have to know the specifics to know that this reaction wasn’t created from one or two accidents, but rather a lifetime. Maybe I shouldn’t care, but the protector inside me has a mind of his own, and right now that’s what Scout needs.
My body is almost completely flush against her now as I caress her arm with one hand and hold her chin in my other, keeping her pinned in place. I know this must be torture for her, standing here with wet feet, unable to clean up the mess before anyone sees. Too late. I’ve seen the mess, and I’m right here with her, still standing in it.
Her big eyes stare up at me, filled with so many questions—questions that even I don’t have the answer to. So, before she finds the courage to ask, I tear myself away, shattering the moment.
I fist the hand towel from the counter and bend down. Scout stands there silent and confused, but as if she already knows what I’ll say, she doesn’t try to help me wipe the floor clean.
When I’m finished, I toss the towel over my shoulder and stand. “There. It’s like it never even happened.”
The next thing I know, my mom comes bounding into the kitchen, pulling us both back to the present moment. “Oh, honey, I didn’t realize you got it on your dress, too. Here, let me throw it in the wash before the stain sets in.”
Scout swallows a gulp and waves her off. “Oh, yeah. I guess I did. It’s fine. I’ll wash it at home.”
I give her a nod of approval, feeling a proud smile return to my lips. “Actually, I think we’re going to head back to the house. We’ve had a busy past few days, and I need to get my bride home to get some much-needed rest.” I give my mom a hug and thank her for dinner, asking her to tell everyone goodbye for me. Then I take Scout’s hand and lead her out the back door, and to my utter surprise, neither one of us lets go as we make the walk home…
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
