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He did that thing where he whipped his head, slinging his hair all in one direction. I must have looked nervous, because he said, “Don’t worry. Only one’s poisonous, the rest are harmless.”
I made a face. “How many kinds of water snakes are there?”
“Nine.”
“That’s it, I’m through,” I said on a laugh, turning for the edge, but he grabbed me and pulled me back until I glided into him, my back to his front.
He pressed a kiss to my shoulder before I turned to face him. We were close enough that I could have kissed him, but instead, I smiled.
“I told you from the start I’d win, by the way,” I noted. “Which means I didn’t just win—I was also right.”
“That kiss didn’t count.”
“Like hell it didn’t. Your lips were on my lips—the ones on my face even.”
He lay back and floated with his eyes closed. “Nope. I called it, so it doesn’t count.”
I gaped, but I wasn’t even the slightest bit angry. “You’re unbelievable, do you know that?”
“People tell me all the time, Duchess.” I splashed him, but he just laughed, clarifying, “I kissed you to make Henry mad.”
“Liar. You manifested another loophole so you could kiss me, and that loophole was Henry.”
At that, he opened his eyes and lowered himself back into the water, cutting through the space where he’d drifted away until he was close enough to leave me breathless.
“It didn’t count because you still have to choose.”
“Haven’t I already?”
The admission sparked something in him, but he didn’t move. And in that silence, I heard a dog barking in the distance.
23
permanent press
JESSA
We dashed to the edge of the pool as the sound of an ATV joined the barking, its light appearing over the waterfall. As we scrambled out, the dog came louder, closer, and moving fast in our direction.
“Grab your stuff and run!” Remy shot as he snagged his jeans and scooped up his shirt, stuffing his feet into his shoes as he ran-hopped in the direction we came.
I was right behind him, the heels of my shoes flattened and flopping on my feet.
“Remy Winfield,” the old man yelled. “I swear to God, I’m callin’ your mama!”
Laughter ripped out of us as we hurried away, bursting into the yard and through the back door of the house, panting and laughing and flushed, primed with adrenaline and the concoction of hormones we seemed to brew when in close proximity.
Remy was still naked, leaning against the back door, his chest heaving and eyes fevered. I’d haphazardly pulled on my dress, though it wasn’t tied. I kept it up with one forearm, and not very well—one breast was all but exposed. I didn’t really notice. I was too busy tracing the curves of his shoulders in the moonlight, the shadows made by his pecs. The valley between plains of abs, the flat low on his belly between those two wicked lines that pointed straight at his considerable cock. It stood eagerly, ominously, the root nestled in dark hair, the sight of it sending a tremor to my pussy. I squirmed, eyes still on his cock. My mouth watered, wishing my lips were closed over his crown instead of pinned in my teeth.
In my haze, I’d unknowingly lowered my arm, fully exposing the one breast and half of the other—a tipping point, it seemed. Because in the span of a heartbeat, he descended on me like a storm. His mouth and mine were a seam, the sick rush between my thighs desperate. The thunder of his groan, trapped in his throat and chest as he cupped my breast and squeezed hard, flesh spilling from between his fingers, the sweet sting peaking my nipple in his palm. The sound of our breaths were noisy, needy as we labored for air. Lightning crackled beneath my palms as they skated his chest, his shoulders, his neck until my fingers twisted in his dripping hair. My arse slammed against the dryer, my hips pinned by his, holding with so much force, my feet barely touched the ground.
But it was his mouth, that smart, ill-mannered, vulgar mouth, slanted on mine like he owned me. That mouth held me captive, fettered me to him, kept me from oblivion as he fisted the front of my dress, testing its seams before tearing them, leaving me blissfully naked. One shoe was lost, the other dangling from my toe as he shifted his hips, lowered them until his cock was nestled against my clit.
I squeaked, my leg twitching and shoe hitting the floor with a slap as he devoured my neck, his tongue lapping my collarbone. To my utter sadness, he set me down, though I found consolation in his lips as they tracked south. His breath against my tight nipple before the silk of his mouth, the pull of his tongue and graze of his teeth. Remy’s eyes were closed, his brow furrowed with intent, and I watched with aching reverence as he took a long moment with my breast, his free hand cupping my sex, both hands busy whipping my pulse to run, run.
He dropped to his knees, lids heavy, shoulders scratched up—oh, that was me, I realized from Pluto. Thick, rough fingers skated across my belly and down to my pussy, lips swollen with need, clit craving his touch. The veneration on his face was like a prayer, his eyes never leaving my cunt as he lifted one leg and slung it over his shoulder, bringing him close enough that his humid breath felt like a touch. His arm curled around my thigh, spreading me open, tracing the fluttering flesh with his fingertips.
He slid one into me, and I was so close to the edge, I nearly came.
