The Redo (Winslow Brothers #4) (88)

I move my hand to cover the half-outie nature of my new belly button, and Remy, being as observant as he is, notices immediately.

A small hiccup of nerves sticks in my throat as I imagine him plying me with heady words about how perfect my body is when, to me, it’s anything but.

Instead, though, he stays silent, only moving my hand to replace it with his own. I watch avidly as he studies the flesh there, moving his hand from one side to the other and then putting his lips to the skin. His words are only a whisper, a backup singer to the sweet kiss he places there. “You know, I still can’t fucking believe I got to be a part of it. That Izzy, the Izzy I snuggle and rock and dance with, made a home in here for nine whole months. That she was happy and cozy and safe, and that I got to be there at the exact moment she chose to take a chance on the outside world.”

My breath catches in my chest at the reverent way he speaks of both Izzy and the experience of her birth. I know she’s a miracle, and I don’t take that for granted. But I definitely take the role my body played in the whole thing for granted. Definitely.

Remy’s dark head shifts then, his magical blue eyes coming up to meet mine and his smile climbing all the way to his eyes. “I swear, Ri. I think that elevator with you, watching you bring her into this world despite all the challenges you had…I think it’s the best moment of my entire life.”

“Remy.”

“It is. I’ve never felt anything like it, and I doubt I’ll ever feel anything like it again.” He smiles, closing his eyes and laying his forehead on my chest. “I close my eyes, and I can still see it. The moment you went to war with yourself—the moment you didn’t know if you could do it or not—and won.”

“You see all that just from looking at my stomach?”

“I see all that every time I look at you.”

“Wow.”

He chuckles. “Yeah. It’s hard work living up to a superhero every second of the day.”

I scoff. “Oh, please.”

“A real-life Wonder Woman, Ria. That’s you.”

“Remy, stop it.”

“Why?” he asks with a sly laugh. “Worried you’re going to start to feel good about yourself? Worried you might realize your own power? Worried that if you really let go of everything else and just enjoy yourself with me right here, right now, you’ll be ruined forever?”

“Honestly?”

He nods.

“All of the above.”

“Do you want to do this with me?” he asks then. Blunt and unfiltered, his delivery leaves no room for dancing around the answer. “Because I can tell you, I want to do this with you. I want you, Maria. I want to feel you. Be with you. Be inside you. More than I’ve ever wanted to do anything with anyone.”

My heart is beating so hard I swear it’s shaking my rib cage, but I give it to him straight. When it comes to Remy and me and all my fantasies, not a single fucking one has started with me saying anything but, “Yes.”

Remy doesn’t say anything else aloud, but let me tell you, he definitely fucking says something.

Diving forward, he closes his lips over the pink lace of my thin bra, and my back arches dramatically off the bed. I can’t even blame myself. At the very least, most women who birth a baby got it on approximately nine months ago. I mean, it’s kind of part of the process.

But me? I haven’t had sex in three years. Three. Years. I honestly can’t even let the thought sit in my head too long or it’ll make me pass out.

I’ve come pretty often thanks to my own pursuits, but the true nature of this partner activity has been lost on me for a while.

But I’m not lost now.

Holy shit, I’m not lost now. Remy knows how to make a woman feel found.

He moves carefully down my body to the button of my pants, undoing it with one hand while the other explores and caresses. His lips work over the skin of my stomach, and amazingly, I’m not feeling so self-conscious about it anymore.

Within a moment, my pants and panties are gone.

Remy’s hands skate down the sides of my body and down the length of my legs until they close around my ankles and squeeze. My heart jumps as he spreads my thighs gently, placing my calves on his shoulders and looking at me bared in all my glory. His eyes are hungry, powerful. I can hardly control the shake of my hands as he leans forward and swipes just one single lick up the center of my heat.

Sweet merciful everything, I don’t know if I’m going to survive this.

Because for as sweet and unassuming and helpful as Remy has been over the last week, he hasn’t lost any of his intensity. Even in the peek of his smile and the light in his eyes, there’s a darkness that lurks deep inside him. A side untapped, unchanneled, unchallenged. It’s the steely quiet of his past and the abundant possibility of his future. He controls his destiny—that much is for sure. I just wish I weren’t starting to feel like I’d be okay if he controlled mine too.

“Remy,” I whisper, my whole body giving over to the feeling in one location.

The warmth and steady pressure of his tongue.

The soft certainty of his moves.

I can’t think about anything else.

My initial instinct is to close my thighs around his head—to squeeze him like a vise to assure myself that he can’t and won’t escape.