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My hands find his arms and I run my fingers up. He tenses when my fingers graze over his scars, but I don’t stop. It feels so good to be touching him, to feel his strong body under mine. I can’t seem to pull myself away.
“We could have sex, too,” I whisper up to him. The beast takes a step back, shaking his head no.
“Let’s go,” he says, grabbing my wrist and dragging me after him.
I frown at his wide back as we go but don’t say anything as he leads me out to his truck. Remy helps me into the passenger seat, and I turn to face him, but he’s already closing the door.
He climbs behind the wheel, and I shift in my seat to face him. I know I should let it go, but I have just enough liquid courage to keep pressing the issue.
“Did you hear me?” I ask him as he reverses out of his spot and heads back toward the Stud Farm.
“Yeah, I heard you. You don’t know what you’re saying. You’re drunk.”
I snort.
“I’m not drunk. Tipsy, maybe, but not drunk.”
“Right,” he says, clearly not convinced.
“Could I do this if I was drunk?” I ask him, as I cross my eyes and stick my tongue out.
“Yes.”
I giggle, snuggling into the seat more.
“What about this?” I ask him as I touch one fingertip to my nose and then the other.
“I would be more impressed if you were doing that while you were walking.”
“Let me out, and I will!”
He hits the lock button on the door, keeping me inside, and I sigh.
“Do people normally have to work this hard to get laid?” I ask him.
Remy curses under his breath, hitting the gas harder.
“Do they?” I ask again as we race down the street.
“I don’t know. I doubt it,” he answers. I frown.
“What does that mean? Don’t you know?”
We reach the entrance of the Stud Farm, and I swear that he thanks God as we pass by the sign.
“Remy?” I whisper as he parks outside his house.
“Let’s get you inside,” he grunts, hopping out of the vehicle.
I watch my big, burly cowboy walk around to my side and open the door. I attempt to jump out of the truck, but stumble as the ground tilts sideways.
Remy wraps his hands around my hips, steadying me and crushing me against his chest for the third time tonight. Hey, no complaints here.
He tries to take a step back, but I fist his shirt, gathering my courage as I stare up at the most handsome, confusing man I’ve ever met.
“Why don’t you like me?” I whisper, peering into his deep brown eyes. Remy tenses, his hands tightening on my hips.
“I do like you,” he whispers back. I toss my head back, laughing bitterly.
