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A shiver ran down that straight back of mine when he leaned in, his lips next to my ear, and said, “Only the filthiest thoughts, Duchess. I’d share, but I don’t want to set your panties on fire.”
My mouth popped open, my gaze tracking him as he walked out, my body turning to keep him in sight. “You...you’re...well, I say?—”
“Doesn’t sound like it,” he said over his shoulder. I could hear him smiling, the bastard. “I’m heading outside to work on the truck—holler if you need me.”
My mouth opened and closed and opened again, but before any words tumbled out, the back door sounded, marking his exit.
Fevered and ruffled, I turned to the chest of drawers, catching my reflection, absolutely scathed that my nipples were hard. Because the truth was, I might have done something silly if he’d said whatever filthy things resided in his brain. And as enlightening as that might have been, I had an agenda.
And Henry was at the top of it.
9
when it rains
JESSA
Thoughts of Henry tethered me as I began to unpack, filling the drawers and closet with my things. Most of my clothes were at the dry cleaner receiving emergency care, so I didn’t have much, but it felt good to unpack them all the same. Perhaps I could even settle in here if Remy would stop hitting on me.
It seemed a herculean ask.
Part of me didn’t even want to ask it.
I opened the window to let in the breeze, and it shifted the curtains, carrying the heady scent of magnolia on its currents. The ancient tree outside was the source, its waxy leaves providing the shade that would ideally help keep the room cool. I sat on the edge of the bed with a small smile on my face at the beauty and simplicity of this place. Not a small sort of simplicity, as if it was lacking. Far from it. Rather, it was uncomplicated. Easy and unhurried.
I found I liked it very much. Even the feral Remy, though I’d be hard pressed to admit it.
He was unlike anyone I’d ever met. Brazen and forward, and altogether too familiar with me. In the moments when he wasn’t actively trying to unsettle me, I found him charming.
It’d have been so much easier to ignore my own feral impulses if he wasn’t.
Country music played from the front of the small house, and I wondered just what he was doing. Perhaps he was half naked again, bent over that greasy engine with his shaggy hair half in his eyes.
Maybe I can see him from the front window.
Jessamine Hastings, get ahold of yourself.
Or I could get ahold of him.
With another swing of my mood, I huffed and stood, snatching my toiletries from my bag and a pair of shorts from their drawer. Fresh towels sat on the top of the chest of drawers, so I grabbed one of those too and made my way to the bathroom for a shower.
The washroom was actually lovely, with black and white penny tile floors and jade wall tiles. A clawfoot tub stood at the end of the room with a high window on the wall behind it, but the true wonder was a frosted skylight that set a brilliant glow to the room.
Once again, charmed.
When the window was open and the shower was running, I kicked off my shoes and slipped out of my clothes, folding them neatly before checking the mirror. My cheeks were flushed from the heat and dewy from humidity, leaving an unsightly sheen on my hair from perspiration. But I somehow looked fresher and more alive than I had in years. Younger even, like a version of myself I used to know.
It seemed Roseville agreed with me.
I slipped into the shower, setting my little bag of potions on the windowsill and sighing as I stepped into the lukewarm stream—anything hotter would have done no good in cooling me off, though I was beginning to wonder if the task was possible. I soaked my hair and soaped up my hands with shampoo, my thoughts wandering back to Remy as I lathered.
More pointedly to the cursed dream.
In it, I’d found myself standing inside his front door in my clothes from yesterday as he exited the bathroom naked in a cloud of steam. Water sluiced through the valleys created by his rolling muscles, dripping from his dark hair and ridiculous cock, a crooked smile on his wide, lush lips. He’d stalked toward me and said, “You’ve never broken a rule in your whole life, but I’m gonna make you break every single one.”
And then he’d kissed me. An explosion of sensation shot through my body, lips to tits, to the deepest center of me. Instantly in this dream I was naked, and within a moment, we were in whatever my brain thought his room was without having walked there. He’d stretched me out in his bed, working his way down my body until his eyes were on mine, my thighs on his shoulders, and his hot mouth was occupied with my aching pussy.
Soap slid down my body and my hands wandered in its wake, brushing my peaked nipples. One hand stayed there, the other roaming on with the replaying dream. But my eyes were closed, and behind my lids was his face, soft and intent in his desire, devouring me with such desperation, I’d had an orgasm in the real world last night without him ever touching me.
