Chapter 29: So I Scarlet POV
She stop. "What do you suppose?" "I believe he provided you more justifications not to believe me." Scarlet turned toward him, eyes ablaze. "You did that yourself." Tucker inhaled sharply and raised his shoulders. "Do you know how it feels to learn your whole past was created? That everything you believed was a performance directed by your own father? ” "Yes," she answered softly. I do. Since I experienced it much ahead of your time. Between them, the stillness broke through. Tucker moved still another step, voice softened by something deeper than rage. "Why not have you told me before? "' "Because you would have found it to be only another justification." His eyes turned black. Then you buried it? „ "I had nothing to choose from." You were always free to make decisions. You simply did not pick me.
The words fell hard, like a slap, like something ancient and rotting just waking up. Scarlet's throat closed tightly. And you have been punishing me for it ever since. Tucker silence. He fixed her with something wild, something broken in his face. Then he crossed the last few steps separating them. Their breath came together before their bodies did. She hardly moved as he reached for her wrist, yanking her hand from the folds of her robe. His hand was not light. Not cruel either. It was laden with years of suppressed feeling and whispered pain, electrifying. You still lie with your eyes, he said softly. She tried to back off, but he forbade her. Rather, he pulled her hand to his chest and pressed hers across his heart. "Do you share that? He asked. You did to me just that. Scarlet's lips parted, her breath faltered.
And you believe I missed it as well? She murmured. His hand slid to her jaw, pointing her face toward him. Their eyes crossed, scorching. His breath slid across her lips, hot, sour, flavored with booze and guilt. He exclaimed, "I detest you." She mumbled. Nothing. You simply want. I hate that I still want you. Then stop acting. His mouth immediately was on hers savage, furious, urgent.
She did not drive him off. She drew him up. At first teeth clashing, breathing panting, their kiss was fierce a collision of need and anger. Her fingers fisting his shirt, pushing him farther into the moment, his hands skimmed her back, dragging her tight against him. Years of stillness breaking, agony turning into touch, loss playing out like fire. Neither of them said when they staggered toward the bed. Scarlet felt her knees hit the edge of the mattress. Tucker's hands slid under her blouse, fingertips playing around her waist's naked skin.
She trembled, from the sensation of his touch marking her once more rather than from the cold. She pulled his shirt from his shoulders and felt his muscular sharp ridges under her palms. Again, he kissed her slower this time, a hunger mixed with agony. But Scarlet's thoughts burned with facts she could not escape even as her body twisted. Tucker's hands caught her face, his lips sliding across her temple. You still wreck me, he whispered into her flesh. And I despise you for it. She turned still. Her hands stopped against his chest.
He never intended to speak it out. Her sense of this came from his stuttering breath. But the words were out now, like poison seeping from a healed old wound. Scarlet gently pushed him back, just right to meet his gaze. And you believe I too do not feel ruined? ''' He moved slowly away from the bed, as though coming out of a dream. The room changed once more, heat withdrawing, darkness falling. Both of them said nothing. Then, somewhere outside, a sound. Tucker turned to face the window. Scarlet came after. Back now was the same black SUV. It lounged at the gate once more, this time nearer. Tucker fixed his eyes narrowingly. "Who the devil is?" The voice of Scarlet was low. "I believe Wyatt is knowledge-wise perfect." And their delicate moment of closeness broke exactly like that. Passion would not be what followed. War would follow from this.