But I just don’t know what I’m going to have to fight against. If it’s some fear in me … some fear in him … or that black side of him.
“I want him badly too,” I tell Pete, patting his shoulder. “So much I might shoot some shit up your veins if you keep shooting him up with that, you know?”
He laughs.
And I carry my empty cup to the sink, wash it, then fiddle around with some breakfast items, and send a text to Melanie telling her:
The earth moved. Yes! It was that freakingfuckingtastic OMG!!!!!!!!!!!
And finally, just before ten a.m. and before Riley comes to molest us, I go back to bed and lock myself in with him. Setting a tall glass I brought him on the nightstand, I lean over his na**d form and murmur, while my heart and my s*x or**s swell up with his nearness, “Get up, you sexy piece of man ass.”
Then I grab Remy’s sexy ass and squeeze those rocks and clench my teeth because I want to bite them, he’s so frickin’ juicy and hot.
“I’m not Diane, but this used to be the breakfast of champions before the champion tore her ACL and shot her knee to hell. Now you get her services in bed, consisting of all sugary treats for this—” I squeeze his biceps, “—and this—” I slide my hand over his abs, “—and this.” I tap his lovely head and his mesmerizing maze of a brain.
Suddenly I realize if it weren’t for that double accident, I wouldn’t be here. With this man. And it’s the first time I realize I might not only be glad, but grateful, that the universe redirected me in my path.
His sexy voice is muffled by the pillow. “Why are you bringing me breakfast in bed?”
I slap his bum, and his flesh doesn’t move one whit. “Because you look like my every fantasy and feeding you gets all my juices going. It’s a female thing. Come on, drink.”
He sits up, squinting those baby blues, and grabs the glass. It’s a protein shake made of dates and I am so wild about dates. They taste like caramel and I can eat about two dozen in a sitting when I get my period and get that unstoppable hunger.
“That's so f**king good,” he says, and then tips the glass back for more.
I grin and watch him drink the rest, feeling warm all over. I love how well he eats, really clean. His body likes him for it, and so does his skin. I’ve never seen Remy eat junk food. Even when he’s pigging out in room service, it’s vegetables and fish or meat for him. I don't think he likes treats. It shows discipline and responsibility with his body, and I admire it. His fighting is aggressive to his cells and demanding to his ATP, which is the source of energy the cells produce, and I love that he feeds himself correctly right after. He’s an athlete in heart, mind, and body, and it’s incredibly hot to me.
My phone pings while he downs the last, and the message is actually Melanie’s answer to the text I sent while blending the shake. Figuring she must be running this morning without me, I set it aside to answer later. “It’s Melanie, my friend. She’s excited that there’s been some action between tua and mua.” I grin.
He laughs, the sound rich and awesome, then he sobers, his eyes so tender on my face my insides go mush. “You miss her?”
I nod and want to tell him that she knows Nora also, and that she’s like my shrink, but suddenly he pounces out of the room, so I start gathering my athletic gear, when he returns.
“Tell her to present herself at the Southwest counter, with the code on this paper. There’s a ticket under her name so she can meet us in Chicago. I’ll take care of her room.”
“No!” I say in pure thrilled disbelief.
His answering two dimples go straight to curl my toes.
“Remy, I…”
I don’t know what I want to say, but actually I do.
I want this man to know that I am absolutely wild about him, and I’m not going to quit as soon as it gets steep. But I’m too afraid of being the only one to say something so … lasting.
If I say the L word, what will it mean for my future? I want him concentrated. I want my fighter to win. And I want him to say the L word to me not because he heard it first, but because deep in his inner complicated emotional world, he’s certain that he feels this for me.
“Why are you doing this?” I ask instead.
One dark eyebrow plucks upward as he comes over with his two dimples. “Why do you think?” He kisses my ear and whispers, in my hair, “Because your ass looks great in those tight pants you wear. It’s a guy thing.”
A laugh escapes me, and his dimples deepen. He tugs me closer and scents me, and I bury my face and smell his neck, then we need to part with a sound that’s a mutual groan. I go to my old room to get changed, and on my way there I’m texting Mel:
My man is so wild about me he just got tickets to fly my BFF over to meet me in Chicago. Just please don’t offer anything sexual in gratitude because a) I will have to kill you and b) that’s what I’M going to do but c) there’s always Pete and Riley around.
“I like me when I see myself through you, Brooke.” Gently, he seizes my ankles in his grip and guides my legs around his hips. His eyes glint in pure male contentment when his erection hits the spot between my legs, and he sweeps his head down and takes a nip from my outstretched arms, his teeth nibbling my bicep through the sleeve of my track jacket. “Hmm. And I like you like this even more.”
“Remington!” I try prying free but he holds me down by my hips, laughing as I pointedly slide my eyes in the direction of Riley and Coach, who are still cleaning up. “What is this? Free sex show day?”
“Take a hike, guys!” he shouts, and within five fast heartbeats, we’re alone. With the enormous gym and all the mat area, the weight equipment area, and the boxing ring, just for the two of us. The gyms he uses are always rented entirely for him, and the knowledge that no one will be coming shoots fire through my veins.
Remy slides his hands around my h*ps and spreads his fingers over my ass as he pins me down on his erection.
My breath stalls as I brazenly bring one of those big male hands upward, then I slowly force his grip around the curve of my breast, the swell covered in a skintight tank under my open track jacket.