With a grin, Remi asks, “Shower time?”
“You’re eager,” I say as I get to my feet and pull him towards me.
Remi ducks his eyes, crimson splotching his cheeks. “No, it’s just I… liked what you did last time.”
“Rimming you?” I ask just to see his blush deepen.
“Uhm… Yeah. It felt good.” He meets my eyes, then slaps me on the shoulder. “You’re fucking with me. Maybe you are a mean serial killer, after all.”
“I think in this case, it would be ‘mass murderer,’ right?”
Remi’s eyes blow wide, then he lets out a surprised laugh. I join him, liking the sound of his carefree mirth.
Yeah, I think I’ll keep Remi around.
Taking his arm, I spin him around and slap his ass. Remi yelps and glares at me over his shoulder. “Shower, Hummingbird.”
“Won’t the water be cold? We don’t have power.”
I shrug. “We should be good since we didn’t use it all up earlier. The water heater’s electric, but it shouldn’t have cooled down yet. We’ll have to be quick, though. Which means I can’teat your ass this time.” His cheeks turn that beautiful shade of scarlet. “But I can wash the blood off you again. Okay?”
“Yes, please.” Remi pulls in a deep breath, then takes my hand, threading his fingers through mine. “Let’s go.”
10
REMI
I’m onlya little disappointed when Streeter thoroughly washes me in a shower that goes lukewarm entirely too fast. I understand why, because the thought of still being under the stream of water when it goes cold is miserable.
But I was still kind of hoping he’d touch me more.
That hope is reignited when he wraps his arm around my waist and practically drags me back to the bedroom while our skin is still damp and the chill in the air that isn’t quite taken away by the fireplace stings against my nerves.
It’s funny, because the way his hands on me makes me feel, it seems like I should be steaming the water right off my body. It’s the only reason I have for letting this happen—the only reason I can think of for why I’m still not completely freaking out over the fact that I’m getting dragged to bed by a serial killer—mass murderer? Whatever.
Survival instincts.
Trauma response.
Really hot guy who is actually attentive to my needs and seems to… like me?
One of those is the right answer, and I don’t want to admit I’m probably broken enough that it’s obvious which one it is.
My reasons don’t seem to matter when Streeter pulls the towel from around my waist and pushes me back onto the bed. The motion is precise in its roughness, and it makes me shiver for a reason that has nothing to do with the cold. Apparently, he either went through things earlier while I wasn’t paying attention or he just has amazing intuition, because he turns around long enough to rustle in the bags by the door, and when he comes back, he has lube and a condom in his hands.
Fuck, am I really going to do this? Am I really that excited to do this?
From the way my cock is already hard—even in the chill—I’m guessing yeah.
Yeah, I really am going to do this.
I can’t remembereverhaving sex and really enjoying it… and there’s something about the heat in Streeter’s gaze that makes me think he’s going to completely ruin me for anyone else.
“Eager, Hummingbird?” That nickname zings along my nerves, making me shiver again before I scoot back and pull the covers over my body. I’m not sure if I’m doing it because I’m cold or because it’s embarrassing how much I want him, how much I want this.
Maybe it’s not any of that. Maybe it’s just the fact that if I’m going to die before I leave this cabin, I want to make sure I actuallyknowwhat it’s like for someone to turn me inside out. I’ve read it enough times in books, but I’ve neverfeltit.
“I…” I trail off, trying to breathe past the flush of excitement and embarrassment that’s warring for control. Finally, I just press my lips together and nod.
