Make Me Yours(55)

We have a spectacular view of the Empire State Building from the balcony of the penthouse suite. I’m holding a glass of Beaujolais, watching the lights flicker all around this amazing place when Remi walks up behind me, placing his hand on my lower back. It sends a humming sensation through my body. I love being here with him, learning about his world.

“I’ve gotta say, you’re the first girl I’ve met to stand up to Stephen like that.” The pride in his voice fills me with warm satisfaction. “I know many who’ve wanted to say the things you did, but never do.”

“If you’d met my dad, you’d understand.” Turning, I lean against the rail, admiring the way the light shines in his eyes, the way that dimple teases me when he smiles.

Remi’s holding a glass of the red wine, and he’s so perfectly elegant. “I remember you said your dad made you question your choices. You didn’t say he made you strong.”

Tilting my head to the side, I think about this. “I guess I didn’t really realize it until just now.”

“Silver lining?” His voice is gentle. “You’re not afraid of anything.”

“That’s not true.” I’m terrified of my feelings for him.

I’ve dated so many guys, and I’ve never felt this way about any of them. It’s like Remington Key holds my breath in his hands, and it scares me to death.

“What scares you?” He grins, caging me between his arms. We’re facing each other with my back to the balcony, his strong arms around me, his warm scent capturing my senses.

Circling a finger around the button on his shirt, I think about my words. “Earlier, when Stephen asked you if you’d ever move back to Seattle… Would you?”

His brow furrows, and I can see he’s considering his answer. I love that even in this moment, with us so close, he hits pause to give me a serious response. No off the cuff answer. He’s listening to me, thinking, as if everything he says to me is important.

I want to reach up and trace my finger along his forehead, move that curl off his brow. He looks down at me, and my heart beats faster. “Would you ever consider leaving Oakville?”

Exhaling a laugh through my nose, I relent. “When I was young, all I wanted was to leave Oakville. I thought it was a hick town with small-minded people.”

Remi takes the wine glass out of my hand and sets it with his on the glass table beside us. Then he turns back, enclosing me in his arms. I love being surrounded by him.

“I think I hear a but coming.”

“Everyone I know has a big butt,” I tease.

He grins. “Well?”

I take a deep inhale of his cedar and leather scent, of soap and Remi. “Now I realize how much I love my friends and being near my mom, even though she drives me crazy.” His expression doesn’t change, and I add, “It made me sad to hear you’d thought of leaving.”

Leaning forward, he traces his nose along the line of my hair, just at my ear, rising higher to my temple. “I haven’t thought of leaving once in the last eighteen days.”

His words are warm and sensual. My eyes close as electricity skates down my arms, as my panties flood with heat. “Has it been eighteen days?”

“Tomorrow will be nineteen.” It’s a low rumble I feel all the way to my core.

“Is that a good thing?”

Warm lips touch my forehead, my nose. His eyes capture mine. “I think it’s a very good thing. Do you?”

Lifting my chin, I kiss his scruffy jaw. “I think it’s amazing.”

Our mouths meet in a sensual kiss. Warm lips cover mine, our tongues curl in a primitive dance. Leaning down, he lifts me into his arms, and I don’t even try to fight. I wrap my arms around his neck, kissing his cheek, moving up to his temple as he carries me through the suite to his bedroom in the back.

Lowering me to my feet, he puts his hands on my shoulders, tracing his thumbs along the lines of my sleeveless dress. “I want to make love to you now. Is that okay?”

My stomach is hot and clenching, I nod before the words are out. “Yes, please.”

Hot eyes darken. He frames my face with one hand, his thumb on my chin, lifting it. Our mouths collide, and he parts my lips, plunging his tongue inside to find mine.

A little whimper aches from my throat. I’m chasing him, holding his face as his mouth moves down to my jaw, to my neck. My entire body is on fire as his beard scuffs my skin.

“I’ve dreamed of this every night since you came.” It’s a rough confession. It curls my toes.

Large hands are on my thighs, rising higher, lifting the hem of my dress until he reaches the center.

“Oh yes,” my chin dips, and I kiss his neck, his cheek, struggling to touch every part of him with my mouth.

Long fingers curl between my thighs, ripping my panties aside and diving between my folds. “You’re so wet,” he groans against my neck.

His hand is gone, and I’m acutely aware of its absence. He’s behind me now, grasping the zipper on my dress and pulling it down. My white dress falls in a puddle at my feet, and I reach behind me for his neck. He holds my waist, sliding his hands over my ribs, higher to cup my breasts.

“I love your body.” Kissing my neck, he pulls the skin between his teeth, and my knees go liquid. “You’re so beautiful. Look at you.”