Quill was right—I shouldn’t read so many dark romances. And I…
“Does the water here work?” His voice draws me out of whatever weird cloud I’m floating on, and I blink up at him. My vision is almost hazy, but I nod quickly.
“Yeah.”
“Good. We should get cleaned up.” He shoves me back slightly, and when I just stand there staring at him, he tilts his head. “Where is it?”
Oh.
Oh, shit.God damn it, Remi, get yourself together.I’m doing a great job of proving exactly how useless I am.
“This way. Did you want to go first or…” I start walking when his hand snakes around my waist again and he drags me against him. The feel of my back pressed flush to his chest makes my head spin.
Definitely,definitelysomething wrong with me, because the low heat burning in my stomach isn’t fear. The tremble that runs through my body isn’tterror.I’m practically melting into him.
“I’m not dumb, Hummingbird. Wherever I go, you go too. So come on.” He leans in, and his breath is warm against my ear. “Let’s go clean off the evidence. You’re an accessory to murder now, after all. You don’t want to get caught.”
Accessory… to…
Oh. Oh,shit.
I did just help him clean up a crime scene, didn’t I? I’ve read enough and watched enough to know that if the police barged inright now and saw what happened, I’d be in trouble. Maybe not as much as Streeter, but I’d helped him clean up the evidence. I’d hauled those bodies outside with him. I’d thrown Trevor off the not-cliff. I was anaccessoryto murder. Neither of us were innocent.
Fuck.
As much as that should send me into another spiral, I can’t seem to work up that fluttery cold feeling of panic in my chest as Streeter drags me into the bathroom and closes the door behind us. With the warmth of his body pressed to mine and that look burning in his gaze, words likeaccessorydon’t seem that important.
Yeah… there’s definitely something wrong with me. But if I’m going to die, if I’m already in trouble…
I might as well enjoy it while I can, right?
7
STREETER
Yeah,the adorable hummingbird is covered in blood and evidence of a mass murder, but that’s not the reason I want to shower with him. I want to see him naked again, and I want him nice and clean for what I have planned for him.
Though I made it sound like we’re showering together because I think he’ll run, there’s no way he could get very far down the mountain with the way the snow is coming down, and I know he doesn’t want to die of hypothermia. I could sit alone in the bathtub for an hour and come back to find him waiting for me.
I’m not worried about him leaving. I want him wet and against me so I can touch him more.
“We have to get the body from the front of the cabin,” I mention as we step into the bathroom. I bat his hands away from the hem of his shirt and draw it over his head, taking in every inch of his creamy skin that comes into view.
“Body?” he whispers, shivering as my hands ghost across his right nipple. “We missed one?”
“Mhm,” I hum. “The first guy. The stupid shit who tried to stab me.”
“Garth,” he answers automatically, watching my hands as they drift down to the button on his jeans.
I grunt. “That fucker. Before it gets buried too deep, we have to move him with the others.”
“Yeah, okay. You’re right.”
Remi looks up at me, those wide brown eyes threatening to fucking undo me.
I slide my hands down the front of his pants and grasp his cock, making a ragged gasp escape his lips. Bending until my lips are a hairsbreadth away from his, I whisper, “Start the shower, Remi. You have blood on your face.”
A shudder racks his chest as he places his hands on my shoulders, pushing into my palm. I let him fuck into my grip a few times, soaking up the soft whimpers escaping his throat. If I weren’t sticky with blood, I’d bend him over right now and get my dick into him.
