He wanted more of exactly that. A lifetime of it.
But what kind of a lifetime did Remi want? She wasn’t one to plant roots. And he wasn’t one to comfortably tumble from place to place. He disliked cities, the anonymous crush of busy strangers. He loved horses, open expanses of water, and the people he served.
But he couldn’t ignore the gravitational pull of her. Just being in her orbit made his world bigger, brighter, more colorful. And he was fucking terrified.
He wandered over to the buffet table and inspected the plates, the utensils, checked the flames on the burners.
“Holy Lady Gaga.”
That familiar voice, the awe and excitement he heard in it, stuck him like one of Jenise’s famous jerk chicken skewers.
Remi didn’t look like Remi. She looked like Alessandra Ballard in a sequined dress that stopped several sexy inches above her knees. It shimmered like she did. Catching the light and the eye with its peachy gold sparkle and graceful long sleeves. Ken had done something goddess-like to her hair, pulling it back from her face in a high ponytail that rained down in thick red curls. Her eyes were smokier, lips bolder and redder.
His heart tripped in his chest, and for a second, he couldn’t believe she was his. And then he remembered. She wasn’t really. Not all the way. But that didn’t stop him from wanting to slide his hand up between her thighs and discover what she wore underneath that dress. Or wrapping that fiery tail around his fist. Or kissing her so hard, so rough that red lipstick smeared.
“Brick, I can’t believe you did this,” she breathed.
Maybe she didn’t look like his Remi, but she sounded like her. And it made him only want her more.
He crossed to her, drawn to her like a planet orbiting its sun. A masochist ready for his next punishment.
“You like it?” he asked gruffly. His fingers flexed at his sides, wanting to touch her, but he was afraid once he started, he wouldn’t stop.
She nodded, and when she looked up at him again, he saw tears in her eyes.
He drew in a sharp breath. The desire to touch her, to taste her, was overwhelming. He wanted to give her this. He wanted to give her everything. To prove to her he was worth staying for.
A hand fluttered to her chest.
“Where’s your inhaler,” he asked.
She flashed him an aggravated eye-roll. “In my clutch in my coat, hanging up right inside the door,” she promised. “I’m just overwhelmed by this.”
He shrugged, pretending like it hadn’t occupied nearly every waking hour for the last week. Pretending that he hadn’t done it to put that exact look on her beautiful face. “It was no problem.”
“Well, shit.” Remi snatched a bright yellow napkin off one of the tables and dabbed at the corners of her eyes. “This took work. A lot of that. I can see it. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome,” he said, his voice strained.
Need had taken over. He couldn’t stand not being able to touch her.
When she looked at him, he read it in her eyes.
“Can I see you for a second to talk about that thing?” She hooked her thumb toward the door and batted those big green eyes at him. When her teeth sank into that full, red lip, he barely managed not to pick her up and carry her out of there.
“Sure,” he said, absolute shit at pretending.
His heart raced as he held the door open for her. When she made a move for the stairs, he grabbed her arm and hauled her inside the storage room instead.
He hadn’t even managed to shut the door or find the light switch when her arms looped around his neck and dragged him down for a kiss.
It was pitch black in the room, but his senses were full of her. That electric scent. The breathy little moan she made when he forced her mouth open so his tongue could thrust inside. All the soft, willing warmth of her body under his rough palms.
It was insanity. An obsession. This need that grew bigger in him, threatening to overwhelm him. The desire to claim her choked him.
“How much time do we have?” she whispered.
“Thirty minutes,” he said, dragging his teeth down the column of her neck.
“More than enough time to reapply my lipstick,” she said cheerfully. Her gasp was music to his fucking ears when his hands coasted down over those generous breasts.
“You are so fucking beautiful, Remi.”
She laughed lightly. “It’s pitch black in here,” she teased.
“You looked beautiful in the light and you feel beautiful in the dark.”
Her breath hitched and then her fingers began to work their magic in the waistband of his pants.
“Remington,” he growled.
“I forgot how hot you are in a tie. The beard, the tie, your sleeves rolled up. God, the way you look at me. It makes me stop thinking about anything but you.”
Fuck. His dick swelled behind his zipper. He hated that suddenly the words weren’t enough for the rest of him. He wanted more than Remi wanting his hands on her. He wanted her to need him, to love him.
“Let me thank you, Brick. Let me show you how much this means to me,” she insisted, her hands working his belt open.
His stomach muscles tensed as she undid the button and lowered his zipper.
“What are you doing?” he groaned as her hands slid down his thighs when she dropped to her knees.
“Thanking you,” she said. Her breath was hot against his aching cock.
His next words were forgotten as her velvet mouth closed over the tip of his cock.
Blindly, he slapped his hands against the door to hold himself upright as Remington Ford performed miracles on her knees. That mouth. That fucking glorious, wicked mouth was doing things to him in the dark that he couldn’t comprehend. The rough of her tongue, the drag of her teeth. And when she gripped him at the root, when she closed those eager fingers around him tight, he knew he’d never be the same.
“I want to make you feel good,” he said, the words coming out rough and tumble.
“You will. Later. This is just for you,” she said, her lips feathering over the tip. Tongue darting out to dance over the slit where even now moisture gathered. Getting sucked off by Remi in a dark closet. It had probably been a fantasy. Probably been something to keep him up at night after another family gathering. Another dinner across the table from her.
He couldn’t go back now. He couldn’t go back to before he knew what she felt like writhing under him, begging him for everything he could give her. Couldn’t go back to a time when he didn’t know what it felt like to fuck her sweet mouth. There would be no more Thanksgivings or Christmases together if she left. He wouldn’t be able to look at her and not remember this. She was going to ruin him.
And he couldn’t stop himself from letting her.