Real 3 Remy

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make sure I brush my fingers over hers at the exchange, because I m a devil and I need the contact. My
eyes stay locked on hers as I steal that touch that shoots like a bolt up my arm, and neither of us is
laughing.
She tries standing, and I instantly take the bottle and set it down, then I wrap my arm around her
waist. I ll help you up so you can ice that.
She leans on me as I lower her from the ring and help her out of the gym, her arm coming around my
waist.
It s fine, she keeps on telling me.
Stop arguing, I softly command.
She keeps her arm around me as we board the hotel elevator, then I lock her at my side as we ride
upstairs. In profile, her nose is exquisitely dainty, and that smooth, pink mouth is perennially curved
in a way that tempts me to kiss it. Her scent tickles my nostrils, and as if with a mind of its own, my
nose drops as I try to find the source of that delicious smell. Holy god, I want to lick up all that sexy
sweat from her neck.
One of her firm, high-perched tits softly presses into my rib cage, and I can t pull my brain out of
there. I m painfully aware of the way that sweet little tit brushes against my side as we exit the
elevator.
Hey, man, ready for the fight? a hotel staff member asks from across the hall, and I offer him a
thumbs-up as we reach her room.
Key, I whisper to her.
She fumbles, then quietly I take it from her hand, slide it into the slot, and help her inside. The first
bed has a ton of family pictures facing the nightstand. I set her down on the second one and I grab the
leather bucket. I ll get you ice.
That s fine, Remy, I ll do it later, she protests.
I pull the lock out to stop the door and go into the hallway to fill the bucket up half with ice. When I
return to the room, I add some water.
Her face is pink in embarrassment when I kneel at her feet and set the bucket on the carpet, and the
black of her catsuit only heightens the peach hue of her skin. I remove her tennis shoe and her sock,
then I curl my hand around her calf muscle and guide her foot into the cold.
When we get this fixed, I m going to show you how to knock me down, I whisper, flicking my
eyes up to hers, and, god, I could eat her. Eat. Her. She s biting down on her lower lip, her eyes wide
and almost vulnerable as she lets me guide her foot into what has to equal the freezing waters of
Antarctica.
Cold? I ask.
She sounds like her lungs are closing. Yeah.
Slowly, I sink her foot deeper, and she tenses completely, all the animation gone from her face. I m
torn between the urge to stop torturing her, and fixing her ankle. More water?
She shakes her head and then surprises me when she shoves her foot all the way under the water.
Oh, shit, she gasps. And I know I should hold her foot in no matter what, but my instinct to protect
her is so fierce I yank her foot out, flattening her skin against my abs to suck the cold out from it with
my body heat. My muscles clench in shock, and her wide, surprised gold eyes lock on my face in
startlement. Every one of her tiny, cold toes burns into my flesh, and I ve been so successful in
teaching my body to embrace pain, I want them closer. I curve my hand around her instep and hold her
flat against me.
She looks breathless. From the cold. Or from me? She also sounds breathless. I didn t know you
gave pedicures, Remy.
It s a fetish of mine.
I smile a lazy smile, then I pull out an ice cube and stroke it gently across her ankle. I make sure
that her skin doesn t burn as I circle around her, and I m moving slowly enough that I can hear her
breathing rhythm quicken. I shift my hold on her foot and rub my thumb along the arch while still
caressing her with the ice cube.
Her voice trembles through me, like a feather stroking my insides. Do you do manicures too?
I glance up at her, on the bed, looking at me like a woman does when she wants to give herself
away, and the hunter in me is so ready I let her know with my tone of voice what I m thinking, what I [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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