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Or his towel.
What was likely only a second or two stretched into minutes inside my mind. The towel falling. Remy turning with both hands reaching for the dog. Disappointment over losing the view of his backside, only to be shocked mute by the sight of his cock, rooted in a thatch of dark hair and hanging low enough to leave me breathless.
It couldn’t be real, a cock of that size and stature. My brain tried to math an equivalent length on my body. My forearm perhaps? Certainly not my vagina. She’d not seen something so impractical, but it was impossible not to imagine what that sort of steel would do to a woman.
Said vagina ached at the thought.
Remy grabbed the dog by the collar with both hands this time, unaware of his swinging spare appendage as he dragged Beau out of sight. A door opened and slammed as I collected myself off the ground, rolled up my tongue, and did my best to cool the roiling heat he’d inspired. And around the corner came Remy, with a dishtowel over his cock, still largely unbothered by his nakedness.
He snatched the towel off the ground and wrapped it around his waist with his face pinched in concern.
“You okay?” he asked.
“Yes, thank you,” I said, a little shaky.
“Sorry about the—” he motioned at his waist. But then his eyes flicked to my suitcase and softened with guilt. “Goddamn that dog,” he huffed, scratching at the back of his neck. “I’m real sorry about your clothes.”
I glanced at my things with mounting horror. The contents had been tossed with Beau’s trampling, but that was fixable. What didn’t appear to be fixable, however, was the fact that he’d been busy digging his way to the center of the earth prior to galloping through the door.
My throat constricted as I rifled through my muddy clothes, holding them up for inspection one by one. I wouldn’t know if they were ruined until a dry cleaner got a good look at them, and I held onto the small hope they could be saved. Propriety dictated my action and reaction—I heard the stiff voice of my father in my mind say, Master yourself or they will master you.
With a hard swallow and nothing else to be done, I began folding them to pack away.
“It’s not your fault,” I said, afraid I’d cry if I looked at him.
A pause. He secured the tail of his towel and stepped next to me smelling of soap. “Here, lemme help.”
“I’m all right, thank you.”
Remy reached into my suitcase anyway, the heat of his body distracting and alarming and delectable. He smelled incredible, his skin damp, a droplet of water falling from his hair onto his broad forearm. His big hands fished around for an article of clothing, emerging with a very small pair of underpants twisted in his thick fingers.
I groaned, snatching my knickers. “Would you please just go put your bloody clothes on?”
He raised his hands in surrender and backed toward what I imagined were the bedrooms. “‘Scuse me.”
I pointed. “Go!”
“I’m goin’, I’m goin’.”
He gave me his back, and I charted its topography shamelessly and furiously and a thousand percent ready to get to a clean house—preferably with air conditioning, my best friend, and a well-stocked drink cabinet.
And without the bedlam of Remy Winfield and his rogue cock.
3
slings and arrows
REMY
The duchess sure was cute when she was angry.
Her button nose wrinkled up, her creamy skin flushed, her pretty lips flattened and her jaw set. Her nipples were hard even in the heat, and I absently wondered if my loose cock had anything to do with it. Either way, I swore I’d seen a flicker of actual fire in her eyes when she’d pointed to my room and commanded me to get dressed.
Wasn’t often a woman hurried me to put my clothes on.
I tossed my towel on the chair in the corner and grabbed a pair of clean jeans, considering the turn she’d just put on my day. Here I thought I was housing one of Cass’s fiancé’s buddies, and up walked a duchess instead.
I’d never seen anything so out of place in my yard as Jessa in her fancy outfit and heels too high for a gravel road. I figured when her golden hair wasn’t subject to the weather it was probably all shiny and smooth and perfect. As it stood, she looked a little like a Muppet.
