He narrows his eyes, thoughtfully studying me. “Swimming… at the waterfalls? Just me and you?”
“Well…” I suckle on the refreshing droplets of water that settle on my lips. “I was planning to swim in the pool, since it’s right outside the back door. But we can go to the waterfalls ifyou want.”
“Felix is here. And Cato.”
“Unfortunately.”
“They’ll see you in your swimsuit,” he counters. “Youwantthem to see you in your skin?”
“I mean…” I exhale a breathy sigh. “I hadn’t thought that far ahead yet. But they saw me swimming in that Podunk town the other month, and nothing awful happened. But if you don’t want me to?—”
“No. I do,” he rushes out. “It would make me happy if you swam in the pool.”
“It would?”
“My brothers are going home later today, and I kinda wanted to hang out with them for a couple of hours. But if you wanted to go to the waterfalls instead…”
“You’d choose me over them?”
His eyes flicker with warmth. With possession. Heat. Determination. “One hundred percent of the time. They’re my family, and so they own a part of me. But you’re my choice.” He inches closer and kisses me again, nibbling on my bottom lip and drinking the water that falls between us. “I’ll forever choose you, no matter the alternative. If you asked me to stay in this room from now until next week, I’d do it. If you wanted to swim at the waterfalls and not see them at all, then that’s what’s gonna happen.”
“But if I were willing to hang out here and socialize with the New York Neanderthals…”
“Then that would make me very happy.” He pumps soap into his palm and lathers until foamy bubbles form, then he slides his hands over my chest, past Chloe’s attempt on my life, and over my peaked nipples. He lingers for a long beat, biting his bottom lip and studying my body, but then he moves downwards, lowering to his knees and washing my belly. “If you give me these few hours with my family, I’ll give you tonight without so much as a shadow passing in the hall.”
“Such tempting terms.” I thread my fingers into his hair and tilt his head back. All so I can bend and press a kiss to the deep line digging between his brows. “I’ll swim in the pool. Which brings me back to my original thought: no shampoo. I’ll wash my hair tonight, after I’ve destroyed it with chlorine.”
“Deal.” He drops a kiss on my thigh, dangerously near my throbbing core. Instead of pulling away and continuing his journey along my legs, he hovers. His eyes turn darker, his hungry gaze, devastating. He’s a wolf who caught the scent of something he wants, and to prove it, he buries his tongue between my legs and buckles my knees.
“Shit.” I brace myself with my hands on his shoulders, panting already for the man with a magical tongue. “Guess we should add this one to the tally sheet, too.”
He bites my clit and releases a deadly chuckle, the vibration like shockwaves in my veins. “This one’s for free.”
ARCHER
We don’t escape our room until almost eleven, losing half of our day to pleasure. But we didn’t wake till ten anyway, and a man is entitled to an hour with his wife, no matter who is waiting for him downstairs.
But now it’s time to face our guests, so I clutch Minka’s hand and lead her along the hall, one that would have been littered with guards twenty-four hours a day just a few decades ago.
No such security is needed these days—nor assigned—but my memories persist, and the shadows of time gone by pulse in the back of my mind.
We approach the stairs and start down, comfortable blue denim shorts hugging Minka’s ass, and an oversized Copeland City PD shirt dwarfing her small frame.
“Should you be wearing a bandage on your knee?”
Quietly contemplative, she glances down at her legs and shifts her head from side to side. “No. I’m supposed to keep the stitches dry and exposed to the air. I only wore a bandage yesterday to avoid getting blood on the dress.”
Again.
“I’m ready to take them out.”
“But it’s only been five days.” I know. I’ve counted every single one of them. “The doctor said they had to stay in forat leastnine days.”
She skips down the stairs beside me, bending that knee like there’snothing wrong with it. “Iam a doctor. AndIhave the education to decide when they’re ready to come out.” She glances my way, challenging. “Are you suggestingyouget to decide what I do with my body?”
“That’s a trap, and we both know it. I can’t answer that question without coming out smelling like a turd.”
“So don’t answer it,” she teases. “And don’t presume to tell me when I can remove my stitches. Do you think it would be rude to ask Mary to make us something to eat?”
