Chapter 10- Safe With Him
2054 Words
Scarlett
Scarlett woke slowly to warmth.
Real warmth.
Not panic.
Not fear.
Not the suffocating helplessness that had chased her through the entire night.
For a few quiet seconds, she stayed still beneath the heavy blankets, eyes closed while exhaustion dragged heavily through her body.
Something solid was wrapped around her waist.
Strong.
Heavy.
Protective.
A slow steady heartbeat thumped against her back.
Scarlett’s breathing softened unconsciously.
Then reality started creeping in.
This wasn’t her bed.
The mattress beneath her was far too soft.
Too massive.
But the scent surrounding her was familiar.
Cedarwood.
Dark cologne.
Smoke.
Dean.
Her eyes slowly blinked open.
Pale morning light stretched across black marble floors while shadows still clung to the massive bedroom around her.
Dean’s bedroom.
Memory slammed into her instantly.
The lake cabin.
Will.
Priscilla.
Blaine.
The bedroom door exploding open.
Scarlett’s stomach tightened hard.
Before panic could fully settle in—
She felt it.
The hard girthy length trapped against her backside stole the breath straight from Scarlett’s lungs.
Scarlett froze instantly.
Oh.
Oh God.
Heat rushed violently into her cheeks as realization crashed over her all at once.
Dean’s arm was still wrapped securely around her waist from behind while his larger body stayed pressed tightly against hers beneath the blankets.
Very tightly.
Mortified, Scarlett carefully tried inching herself forward to create even the smallest amount of space between them.
Huge mistake.
A low rough sound vibrated behind her.
“Jesus f*****g Christ Princess,” Dean muttered sleepily near her ear, voice rough enough to send goosebumps down her arms, “if you keep moving your ass against me like that, you’re gonna feel a hell of a lot more than just an imprint.”
Scarlett’s entire body went hot.
Her eyes widened in absolute horror.
“I am not moving against you!”
Dean’s arm tightened lazily around her waist, dragging her flush back against him with effortless strength.
“Mhm.”
Scarlett buried her burning face deeper into the pillow.
“Oh my God.”
A quiet amused laugh rumbled through Dean’s chest behind her.
Deep.
Sleep roughened.
Dangerously attractive.
And somehow—
That stupid sound made her stomach tighten.
Which was insane.
Completely insane after everything that happened last night.
She should’ve been terrified of every man on earth right now.
Instead she was painfully aware of Dean’s body wrapped around hers.
The warmth of his chest against her back.
The tattooed hand resting low against her waist.
The rough scrape of his stubble near her shoulder.
And worst of all—
How safe she felt.
Scarlett slowly turned her head enough to glare at him over her shoulder.
“That is not funny.”
Dean finally opened his eyes fully.
Messy dark hair.
Sleep-heavy blue eyes.
Bare chest half exposed beneath black sheets.
He looked sinful in the pale morning light.
Dean’s gaze dragged slowly across her flushed face before dropping to her lips briefly.
Then back to her eyes.
Slow.
Intentional.
Scarlett’s stomach tightened instantly.
“Feels pretty funny from my perspective,” he murmured.
Scarlett’s jaw dropped.
“You’re unbelievable.”
“And you’re squirming again.”
Scarlett immediately went still.
Dean smirked slowly behind her.
“There we go.”
Heat crawled all the way down Scarlett’s neck.
Which only made it worse because despite how mortifying this was—
The low roughness in his voice sent another shiver through her body.
And he noticed that too.
Of course he did.
Dean’s eyes darkened slightly watching her reaction.
That dangerous amusement slowly faded from his face though the second he noticed the panic creeping back into her expression.
His hand shifted against her waist more carefully this time.
Gentler.
“You okay?”
The teasing vanished instantly.
Just like that.
Scarlett swallowed hard.
Her head still hurt.
Her body still felt weak.
And flashes from last night still crawled beneath her skin every time she blinked.
Dean watched her carefully.
Not impatient.
Not annoyed.
Concerned.
Like her reactions genuinely mattered to him.
Scarlett looked down slowly at the oversized black shirt hanging off one shoulder.
“You changed my clothes?”
Dean’s jaw flexed once.
“You got sick.”
Mortification immediately flooded her face again.
“Oh my God.”
“You were barely conscious, Scarlett.”
Scarlett covered her face weakly with one hand.
“This is officially the most humiliating experience of my life.”
Dean’s mouth twitched slightly.
“You were wrapped around me like your life depended on it,” he murmured lazily.
“Pretty sure I’m the one recovering here.”
Scarlett turned toward him in disbelief.
“You are literally the worst person alive.”
A quiet laugh left his chest again.
And there it was.
That strange tight feeling low in Scarlett’s stomach.
Because Dean Steele didn’t laugh around people.
Not like this.
Not soft.
Not real.
For a few dangerous seconds, the room felt almost normal.
Like last night hadn’t happened.
Then the memories came crashing back harder.
Hands pinning her down.
Blaine’s voice in her ear.
Not being able to move.
Thinking she should’ve listened when Dean warned her not to go to the cabin.
Scarlett’s breathing caught sharply.
Dean noticed immediately.
His entire demeanor shifted.
“Hey.”
His voice softened instantly.
“Look at me.”
Scarlett slowly lowered her hand from her face.
Dean’s expression had completely changed again.
Protective.
Focused.
Terrifyingly calm.
The same man who nearly beat someone to death for touching her was now brushing his thumb gently against her waist like she might shatter.
“You’re safe here,” he said quietly.
Something painful tightened in Scarlett’s chest.
Because she believed him.
Completely.
And maybe that terrified her more than anything else.
Scarlett’s eyes slowly dropped lower.
His knuckles were still split open.
Bruised.
Bloody.
Raw.
Evidence of what he did for her.
Evidence of how angry he became over her.
Nobody had ever protected her like that before.
Not even Will.
Especially not Will.
Dean followed her stare before flexing his hand dismissively once.
“He’s alive,” he said coldly.
The darkness in his voice sent chills down her spine.
And somehow—
A small selfish part of her was glad.
Scarlett swallowed hard before looking back up at him.
“You stayed with me all night?”
Dean looked almost offended by the question.
“Obviously.”
He said it so effortlessly. Like leaving her alone had never been an option in his mind.
Scarlett stared at him quietly.
Confused.
Overwhelmed.
Because none of this made sense anymore.
She’d spent years convincing herself Dean Steele barely tolerated her because of Erik.
That his staring meant irritation.
That his teasing meant annoyance.
That the tension between them existed only inside her head.
But none of this felt like tolerance.
Not the way he held her all night.
Not the way he looked at her now.
Not the way his grip tightened unconsciously every time she shifted away from him.
“I thought you hated me,” she admitted softly before she could stop herself.
Silence filled the room instantly.
Dean stared at her like she’d genuinely insulted him.
“Hated you?”
His voice sounded low.
Dangerous.
Scarlett swallowed nervously.
“You always act annoyed with me.”
Dean let out a quiet disbelieving laugh before dragging a hand over his jaw.
“Scarlett,” he muttered darkly, eyes locking onto hers again, “if I hated you, you’d know.”
The intensity in his voice sent another shiver through her.
Not fear.
Something much worse.
A sharp knock suddenly echoed through the bedroom.
The tension between them snapped instantly.
Scarlett practically jumped.
Dean barely reacted.
“Come in,” he called calmly, eyes never leaving hers.
The bedroom door opened carefully and an older woman stepped inside pushing a cart with breakfast trays, orange juice, coffee, bottled water, and a small container of ibuprofen.
Scarlett blinked in surprise.
Dean had called for all of this?
The woman’s eyes flicked briefly between them.
Specifically to the fact Scarlett was still tangled beneath Dean’s black sheets wearing his shirt.
Her eyebrows lifted slightly.
And the cold look he gave her had the woman quickly setting everything down before hurrying back toward the door.
“I’ll leave this here, sir.”
The door shut quietly behind her.
Scarlett looked back at Dean in confusion.
“You ordered breakfast?”
Dean sat up fully now, tattooed arm flexing as he reached for the bottle of water and ibuprofen.
“You need food.”
Scarlett stared at him.
Still trying to process this version of Dean Steele.
The terrifying man who nearly killed someone last night was now handing her headache medicine with the same intensity.
“I’m okay,” she said softly.
Dean’s eyes narrowed immediately.
“That wasn’t a question.”
The dominant command in his voice sent a small chill through Scarlett.
And instead of her usual defiance—
She listened without arguing.
Confusingly fast.
Dean handed her the water bottle first before shaking two ibuprofen into his palm.
“Take these.”
Scarlett obeyed automatically, swallowing the pills while Dean watched closely like he was making sure she actually did it.
“You have a concussion?” she asked quizically.
Dean snorted softly.
“No.”
Scarlett’s eyes dropped back to his knuckles again.
Bruised. Split. Swollen.
Evidence of what he’d done to Blaine.
Evidence of what he’d done for her.
Something complicated twisted painfully in her chest.
Dean saw her staring again.
“He deserved worse.”
The coldness in his tone should’ve scared her.
Instead it made warmth spread strangely through her stomach.
Because no one had ever protected her the way Dean did.
Ever.
Scarlett stared at the food blankly.
“Eat.”
Scarlett blinked up at him.
The single word sounded less like a suggestion and more like an order.
His eyes held hers steadily.
Patient.
Dominant.
Completely expecting her to listen.
And again—
She did.
Scarlett reached for the plate while Dean leaned back against the headboard beside her.
Watching.
In a careful way.
Like he was making sure she was okay with every bite.
Which somehow made her even more nervous.
“You don’t have to babysit me,” she muttered sarcastically after a few minutes.
Dean looked unimpressed.
“You almost got drugged unconscious and assaulted less than twelve hours ago.”
Scarlett winced slightly.
Dean’s jaw tightened immediately regretting how harsh that sounded.
His voice lowered slightly when he spoke again.
“So yeah,” he teased. “I’m babysitting you.”
The strange softness hidden beneath the irritation made Scarlett’s chest ache.
Silence settled briefly between them again before Dean nodded toward a folded pile sitting neatly on the chair across the room.
“I had your clothes washed.”
Scarlett looked over in surprise.
Her hoodie. Jean shorts. Everything folded neatly.
“You washed my clothes?”
Dean looked almost annoyed by her shock.
“You threw up on them.”
Mortification immediately flooded her face again.
“Oh my God.”
Dean’s mouth twitched slightly like he was trying not to smirk.
“You say that a lot.”
Scarlett covered her face with both hands.
“I need to die.”
“You’re dramatic.”
“I threw up on you!”
“You also threatened to fight me in your sleep.”
Scarlett slowly lowered her hands.
“…What?”
Dean looked entirely too entertained now.
“You elbowed me in the ribs and told me to square up.”
Scarlett stared at him in horror.
Dean finally smirked.
“Honestly? Kinda hot.”
“Dean!”
His gruff laugh filled the room again.
Warm. Real. Dangerously addictive.
And Scarlett hated how much she liked hearing it.
Dean nodded toward the bathroom afterward.
“Go shower.”
Scarlett blinked softly.
“I put clean towels in there,” he continued calmly. “Your clothes are ready when you’re done.”
The domestic normalcy of the conversation felt surreal after last night.
Scarlett stared at him quietly.
Still confused.
Still overwhelmed.
Still trying to understand why Dean Steele was taking care of her like she actually mattered to him.
And somehow—
That scared her almost as much as wanting him to keep doing it.
- Writer
