17. Scarlet

SEVENTEEN

SCARLET

"I'll get it!" I yell, trotting down the stairs and into the foyer. "You get started in the gym; we're already behind schedule!"

"I don't recall you complainin' when your sweet ass was in my hands while I kissed you!" Remington shouts back from the kitchen just as I open the door, my cheeks going bright red as the FedEx man tries to keep a composed face. Opting for the time honored tradition of pretending something didn't happen, I greet, "Good morning," accepting the digital pad in the driver's hand.

Scribbling my name several different times, I grouse, "Good grief, what did that man order?"

"Something extremely valuable and/or important is my guess."

Exchanging the pad for a nondescript package that's no bigger than my phone is long, I ask incredulously, "That's it?" not believing all the work one small box could be worth.

"All I got," he shrugs. "Now you have yourself a nice day, Mrs. Tate."

"You too," I call as he gets back in his truck, a squeal rising up inside me as I wave and close the door without correcting him.

Taking Remington's delivery to the kitchen, the urge to rattle it and Google the return address strong, I leave it on the island with yesterday's mail and call for Winnie because we are in fact several hours behind schedule today. But he's right, I wasn't complaining one bit as the morning slipped away from us.

In the days since we first kissed and I laid my whole history out for him, I've been insatiable for him. Eagerly giving small pushes against each of my own boundaries, testing my waters to see how far I can take things with him. And with each bit of successful ground we gain, he in turn runs with it, his check-ins slowly evaporating though frustratingly still very much existent.

We've spent every night together, his things slowly coming back up to his bedroom to live amongst mine. We kiss all the time—first thing in the morning, over breakfast, lunch, and dinner, any time one of us leaves the room or enters, following every rehab session, sometimes even during, and at night before bed. It's constant, and I bask in it each and every time but especially when they linger, grow, and leave my panties damp. His hands creeping up my shirt or dress; my lips deviating course to his neck and chest where my tongue begins to learn the taste of him; pulling me to sit astride his lap as he sucks and nips along my neck until my hips are rolling over his hard cock, the friction exhilarating as my breath quickens.

It's perfect and blissful and everything I had hoped one day to have with someone. And so far, my past has remained wonderfully silent. I'm not na?ve enough to believe it'll stay that way, but to have this much is more than I thought I would get, and it has me ready for more. Ready to modify the control Remington has so easily given me. Ready to show how much I trust him.

Swiping my Kindle from the breakfast nook, I hoist Winnie into my arms and follow Remi down to the lower level of his house. Stopping on the last step, I squat low to the ground and laugh as her wiggle butt moves in excitement. Like the upper two floors, one wall of the living area turned gym is taken up by windows. In the center, the doors are pulled open to showcase the infinity edge pool.

Scampering over to where Remington is warming up on the treadmill, Winnie licks his hand before hurling herself toward the doors.

"Ah! Get back here," he scolds, making me cringe as he hops up to stand on the sides before stepping off.

"Remi, your hip is not?—"

"My hip feels fine. I've done the research and know that you're coddling me, Scar." Patting his leg as he eyes Winnie down, she slinks back over and sits with a humpf. "You know better; life jacket first. Your mamma and I would be very sad if something happened to you. Besides, I have somethin' for ya."

I swear, my dog actually sighs and looks to me for help. Shrugging and holding my hands out, I agree, "His pool, his rules, Winnie girl."

She slowly follows after him with me bringing up the caboose, shooing her to go faster. Reaching into one of the storage benches outside, Remi turns around proudly holding up a pink Doberman size life jacket with little crowns polka dotting throughout, a perfect match to her collar and leash.

"Oh my God!" I squeal, hopping on my toes. "Remi, where did you find this?" Making grabby hands, I take it from him and begin fitting it around Winnie. Once secure, I give her a quick pat above her stump, sending her racing for his heated pool, a giant splash arcing towards us as she jumps in. Too excited to contain myself, I run to him and jump in his arms, my legs locking around his tapered waist as I pepper him with kisses. "Oh, my God; it's perfect! I love it. Thank you, thank you, thank you!"

Cupping my butt and hardly staggering under my impact, he kisses me back and says, "I'm always gonna take care of my girls, Scar. You and her." Then looking far too mischievous he points out, "Notice how I caught you, didn't stumble, and am managing to hold you still? Told you, I can handle more than you're giving me."

"You still use the cane," I argue, beginning to climb down.

"Because I get my butt chewed out by all five foot five of you if I don't. You can be quite the little terror when you want. Could give your dad a run for his money over who the team would be more afraid of."

Sighing as we head back inside, Remington turning on one of the outdoor cameras so we can keep an eye on Winnie, I concede, " Maybe I coddle you a little bit. Jennings has trusted me with your career though, and I don't want to screw up. You've trusted me with your career."

"Exactly, Scar. I trust you. Jennings trusts you. Trust yourself, and you're not gonna screw up. I believe in you. No matter how gorgeous you are or how enthralled I am, if I didn't have faith and confidence that you would be the best one to help me, I wouldn't have agreed to this. So do your worst."

"You'll let me know the second something becomes uncomfortable beyond normal, right?"

"I promise."

"And you'll do everything I tell you."

"Without question."

Grabbing my clipboard, I look at the program we've been following and flip through several pages. Glancing between where he should be and where he is, I realize how overly cautious I've been with him.

"Okay, warm up on the treadmill. Put a slight incline, no more 3%, for some resistance. We'll work up to more over the next several days. Ten minutes and then we're getting on the floor. But Remi, you're gonna hate me by the end of the week."

"Do your worst, baby girl."