Page 39 of Imperfection is Beauty

It wasn’t until we walked out of the double doors, that she called, “Marcus?”

I looked down at her and said, “Yeah, Shortcake?”

She looked side to side, then asked, “How did we get here?”

I looked at her strangely. “You don't remember how we got here?”

She shook her head. “No, it's all just a blur.”

Okay, yeah, that made sense, “I ran back to the restaurant and got my SUV. Then I brought you here.”

And that was when I led her to the parking lot, once we made it to the passenger side, I moved to open her door.

That was when she looked up at me and asked, the strangest question, “What are you doing?”

I titled my head to the side, “Umm… I’m opening your door. What does it look like?”

And that was when I watched her little brow wrinkle, “I thought you were trying to show me that you thought I was an invalid instead of telling me so.”

I didn’t mean to, but the thought of her thinking she was an invalid really set my temper to boiling, and I let out a growl, “The fuck would make you think that?”

Scarlett being Scarlett, didn’t even seem fazed by my growl, not when she said, “Because I’m such a klutz. And… well… I’ve never had a man open my door for me. Only by my dad.”

And just like that, the temper was now simmering, and it would only calm all the way down once she placed her hand on mine.

Skin to skin.

“Well, it’s a good thing I’m not like most men. And I don’t intend to start.” And with that, I got her door open, all with her staring at me with a soft expression, I vowed to see as much as I could.

And it was when she placed her hand on mine atop the gear shifter and whispered the sweetest words I’d ever heard, “Thank you.” That caused my temper to sizzle, and then die out completely.

“Welcome, Shortcake. Go ahead and put your address in my GPS.”

She nodded, put her address in with her other hand, and then asked, “What kind of SUV is this?”

Did I make a move to tell her that her hand was still resting on mine?

No, no I didn’t.

Instead, I moved my hand with hers still atop it on the gear shifter.

“It’s a twenty-twenty Range Rover all blacked out.”

If her eyes weren’t black and blue, I knew they would be sparkling right now, due to the humor and mischief I could hear in her tone, “Do you have a name for it?”

Then… just like that, my brain said, “Black Mamba.”

What she didn’t know, and something I would never tell her, was that I’d never named a vehicle before. Ever.

Not until her.

Oh, the things we do for the ones that capture our hearts, and they don’t even know it.

And I wasn’t even going to voice aloud why that name in particular slid through my head, especially not when she said, “I like it. The SUV is beautiful.”

I called my SUV Black Mamba because just like the powerful snake I want to attack her and then slide deep into her tight body and never fucking leave there.

It wasn’t until we were on the road, that I realized she was looking closely at the leather seat, as well as the console, “What are you doing?”

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