Chapter 18- Hanging by a thread
1572 Words
Dean
Scarlett stared at him for a long second without moving.
Dean could practically see the argument forming behind her eyes.
The attitude.
The sarcasm.
That stubborn defiance she wore like armor anytime someone tried telling her what to do.
Usually she pushed back immediately.
Usually she had another smart remark ready before he even finished speaking.
But this time, she just stood there looking up at him with uneven breathing and flushed cheeks, like she was fighting with herself too.
And somehow that was infinitely worse for Dean’s self-control.
The kitchen suddenly felt suffocatingly small with her standing that close.
Close enough that if he reached forward, his hand would settle perfectly against her waist.
Close enough to see the rapid pulse beating beneath the soft skin of her throat.
Close enough to notice the exact second her thighs pressed together again before she subtly shifted her weight.
Fuck.
Dean looked away sharply before his restraint snapped completely.
“Upstairs, Scarlett.”
The command came out rougher this time.
Less patient.
More dangerous.
Scarlett swallowed visibly before finally stepping around him.
The movement should have been simple.
It wasn’t.
Her shoulder brushed lightly against his chest as she passed. Dean caught the faint scent of her shampoo as she brushed past him, and Dean had to physically stop himself from reaching for her again.
Every instinct inside him screamed to.
To pull her closer.
To finally fill that smart mouth with something that would stop all the bratty little remarks for once.
To finally stop pretending he wasn’t losing his mind over her.
Instead, his hands flexed uselessly at his sides while Scarlett moved toward the staircase.
She only made it halfway before pausing.
Dean’s eyes lifted automatically.
Scarlett glanced back at him slowly, her fingers tightening slightly around the railing.
Still flushed.
Still conflicted.
Still looking at him like she didn’t fully understand what was happening between them either.
That almost made it worse.
“Sweet dreams, control freak.”
Dean let out a low laugh beneath his breath, though there was nothing relaxed about the look in his eyes anymore.
“You’re enjoying this way too much.”
Scarlett’s mouth twitched slightly like she was trying not to smile.
“Your eye kinda twitches when you get flustered. It’s honestly a little entertaining.”
Christ.
Dean’s jaw tightened again as she started backing slowly toward the stairs.
Smart enough to put distance between them now.
Probably because she finally realized how dangerous this was becoming too.
Scarlett paused halfway up the staircase before glancing back at him one last time.
Still flushed.
Still restless.
Still looking at him in a way Dean was absolutely not going to survive much longer.
“Try to relax, Dean,” she said softly. “You look stressed.”
Dean stared at her for a long moment before dragging a hand across his jaw.
“Go upstairs before I change my mind about behaving tonight.”
Scarlett’s breath visibly caught at the roughness in his voice.
Then finally, slowly, she disappeared upstairs.
The second she was gone, Dean leaned heavily against the kitchen counter before exhaling sharply into the empty room.
This was becoming a serious problem.
Because Dean Steele had built his entire life around control.
And Scarlett was becoming the first thing that had ever made him want to lose it.
-
(The morning after)
Scarlett
Scarlett barely slept.
Every time exhaustion finally started pulling her under, her mind dragged her right back into the kitchen again.
Dean standing too close.
The rough command in his voice.
The look on his face when she refused to move.
Go upstairs before I change my mind about behaving tonight.
God.
Scarlett shoved her face deeper into the pillow with a frustrated groan before rolling onto her back again.
This was ridiculous.
Dean Steele had spent years being nothing more than her best friend’s intimidating older brother.
Irritating.
Controlling.
Arrogant enough to make her want to argue with him constantly.
So why was her body reacting to him like this now?
Why did she keep replaying the way his voice dropped when he got serious?
Why did she still remember exactly how it felt when he touched her wrist downstairs?
And worst of all—
Why does some reckless part of her want him to stop holding back?
The realization alone made guilt twist uncomfortably in her chest.
Because everything happening between them felt way too fast.
Too intense.
Like something neither of them fully knew how to stop anymore.
By the time pale morning light started slipping through the curtains, Scarlett gave up pretending sleep was still possible.
She dragged herself out of bed before pulling on leggings and an oversized hoodie, too exhausted to care what she looked like.
Her hair was still messy when she headed downstairs a few minutes later, rubbing tiredly at her eyes as she reached the kitchen.
Then she stopped in the doorway.
Dean was already awake.
Of course he was.
Soft morning light poured across the kitchen, catching against the tattoos stretched down his forearms while he stood near the stove with a cup of coffee resting beside him.
The sleeves of his black shirt were shoved carelessly up his arms, and the top buttons hung open now like he either hadn’t slept or hadn’t bothered fixing himself afterward.
Neither option helped Scarlett’s concentration.
He looked unfairly good for someone running on almost no sleep.
Worse, he looked comfortable.
Like having her there in the morning felt natural already.
The thought unsettled Scarlett more than she wanted to admit.
The scent of coffee and breakfast filled the kitchen quietly while Dean glanced up at the sound of her footsteps.
His eyes found her instantly.
And there it was again.
That look.
Calm on the surface.
Something much more dangerous underneath.
“Morning, princess.”
His voice came out rough with exhaustion, lower than usual in a way Scarlett absolutely did not need to notice this early in the morning.
But she noticed immediately.
Scarlett crossed farther into the kitchen, trying very hard to act unaffected while Dean watched her the entire way over.
“You sleep at all?” she asked casually.
Dean slid a plate onto the counter before leaning back against it.
“Enough.”
Scarlett almost rolled her eyes.
Liar.
There were faint shadows beneath his eyes this morning, and the tension lingering around his mouth told her he’d spent most of the night awake too.
Which honestly should not have satisfied her as much as it did.
Dean grabbed another mug before handing it to her automatically.
Scarlett looked down.
Two sugars. Vanilla creamer.
Exactly how she liked it.
The tiny detail caught her off guard hard enough that she looked back up at him immediately.
Dean noticed the reaction but didn’t say anything.
He seemed to know everything about her lately.
Scarlett wrapped both hands around the mug mostly to give herself something to do while her thoughts scrambled uselessly again.
The silence between them wasn’t awkward.
If anything, that made it worse.
It felt easy standing here with him.
Comfortable.
Domestic in a way Scarlett absolutely did not want to examine too closely.
Dean took a slow sip of coffee before his eyes drifted toward her again.
Lingering this time.
Not subtle.
Scarlett suddenly became very aware of the fact that her hoodie had slipped slightly off one shoulder.
Dean’s gaze flicked there briefly before his jaw tightened almost imperceptibly.
Interesting.
A dangerous amount of confidence immediately crawled through Scarlett’s chest.
She leaned lightly against the kitchen island before taking another sip of coffee.
“You seem less threatening in daylight.”
Dean let out a quiet hum beneath his breath.
“That’s your first mistake.”
Scarlett fought back a smile.
“There’s the control freak again.”
The corner of Dean’s mouth pulled slightly upward before he looked down at his coffee cup, shaking his head once beneath his breath like she was exhausting him.
Which only made Scarlett want to push harder.
Probably a terrible survival instinct on her part.
“So,” she said carefully, “feeling more emotionally stable than last night?”
Dean went completely still.
Not dramatic.
Not obvious.
Just enough that Scarlett immediately realized she’d hit something sensitive.
His eyes lifted back to hers slowly.
“Not even close.”
The honesty in the answer sent a sharp wave of heat through Scarlett so quickly she nearly lost her train of thought entirely.
Dean saw it happen too.
She knew he did.
Because his attention dropped briefly to the way her fingers tightened around the coffee mug before returning to her face again.
Too observant.
Way too observant.
Scarlett looked away first this time.
Coward.
Before she could recover, her phone buzzed loudly against the counter.
The sound shattered the atmosphere instantly.
Both of them glanced toward it automatically.
Will.
Scarlett’s stomach tightened immediately.
The phone buzzed again.
Another missed call.
Another text.
Then another incoming call lit up the screen before the first vibration even stopped.
The tension in the kitchen shifted hard enough to feel physical now.
Scarlett stared at the screen without moving.
Across from her, Dean slowly set his coffee cup down against the counter.
Calm.
Controlled.
Almost unreadable again.
Which honestly felt more intimidating than anger would have.
“You gonna answer him?” he asked quietly.
- Writer
