"You bonded into it." His eyes already closing, his words starting to slur together, the lines of his face going soft in a way I only ever saw when he was falling asleep.
I snorted, pressing my face into his chest to hide my smile. His chest hair tickled my nose. "Shut up and go to sleep."
"Yes ma'am." His arms tightened around me one more time—a reflexive squeeze, possessive even in the fog of sleep—before going slack.
And we did.
Chapter Forty-Nine
Artemis
The houseboat rocked gently beneath my feet as I stepped aboard, the familiar creak of weathered wood mixing with the soft lap of water against the hull. Fairy lights strung along the railings cast everything in a warm, honeyed glow, and somewhere in the trees, frogs sang their evening chorus.
Remy was waiting for me on the deck, leaning against the railing with that easy grace that made everything look effortless. The setting sun painted him in shades of amber and gold, catching the lighter streaks in his brown hair, the curve of his smile. He was wearing a white linen shirt, unbuttoned at the throat, sleeves rolled up to reveal tanned forearms.
"There's my girl." His voice was warm, that Cajun accent wrapping around the words like a caress. He pushed off the railing and crossed to me, taking my hands in his, his thumbs rubbing circles on my knuckles. "Was starting to think you got cold feet."
"Never." I squeezed his fingers, feeling the familiar calluses from years of guitar strings and fishing lines. The anticipationwas different this time—less nerves, more hunger. Harper's bond hummed warm and steady in my chest, and soon Remy's would join it. "Just wanted to give you time to get nervous." I tilted my chin up, teasing.
His dimples flashed, those amber eyes crinkling at the corners. "Me? Nervous?" He pressed a hand to his chest in mock offense, the gesture so dramatically Remy that I laughed despite the butterflies rioting in my stomach. "Chere, I've been waiting for this since the first time I saw you. Ain't nothing nervous about it."
"Liar." I poked his chest, feeling the warmth of his skin through the thin linen. "Your hands are sweating."
He looked down at where our fingers were still intertwined, then back up at me with a sheepish grin that softened all his sharp edges. "Okay, maybe a little nervous. It's a good nervous, yeah? Like before you go on stage. All that energy with nowhere to go until the music starts."
"And when does the music start?" I stepped closer, close enough to breathe in his scent, my hands sliding up his chest.
"Right about now." He cupped my face in both hands, tilting my head up, and kissed me. His lips were soft but insistent, his tongue sliding against mine in a rhythm that made my knees weak. One hand slid into my hair while the other found the small of my back, pulling me flush against him until I could feel every line of his body pressed to mine. When we broke apart, we were both breathing hard, and his eyes had gone dark, the amber swallowed by blown pupils.
"Come inside," he murmured against my lips, his voice rougher than before. "I want to show you something." He led me through the narrow door into the houseboat's interior. I'd been here before, but tonight it looked different. He'd cleaned—really cleaned, not just shoved things in closets—and lit candles that filled the small space with the scent of vanilla and sandalwood.His bed had been made with fresh sheets, and there were flowers on the nightstand. Wildflowers, the kind that grew along the bayou banks, gathered in a mason jar.
"Remy..." My throat tightened, emotion welling up so fast I couldn't swallow it down. He'd done all this. For me. For us.
"Too much?" He rubbed the back of his neck, suddenly uncertain, that cocky confidence flickering. "I know it ain't fancy like Harper's distillery, but I wanted—" I grabbed his shirt and yanked him down into a kiss that was more teeth than technique, more desperation than finesse. He made a surprised sound against my mouth, then his arms wrapped around me and he hauled me up against him, spinning us until my back hit the wall and his body pinned me there.
"Not too much," I gasped when we came up for air, my legs wrapped around his waist, my fingers twisted in his hair. "It's perfect. You're perfect."
"Now who's the liar?" But his smile was blinding, those dimples cutting deep into his cheeks, and his hands were trembling where they gripped my thighs. "I love you, Artemis. You know that, right? I love you so goddamn much it scares me sometimes."
"I know." I traced the line of his jaw, feeling the faint rasp of stubble beneath my fingertips. "I love you too. Even when you leave your guitar picks everywhere and forget to do dishes."
He laughed, the sound vibrating through both of us. "That's fair." He kissed the corner of my mouth, my cheek, the spot just below my ear that made me shiver. "I'm going to spend the rest of my life making it up to you. Starting tonight."
He walked us to the bed, lowering me onto the fresh sheets with a carefulness that belied how desperately he was breathing. The houseboat rocked beneath us, a soothing rhythm that matched the pulse thudding in my veins. Through the smallwindow above the bed, I could see stars beginning to prick through the darkening sky.
"I've thought about this," Remy said, settling beside me, propped on one elbow so he could look down at my face. His free hand traced patterns on my collarbone, feather-light touches that left trails of heat in their wake. "Dreamed about it. What it would be like to bond with you."
"And?" My voice came out breathier than I intended, my body already responding to his nearness, his scent, the promise in his eyes. I shifted on the sheets, my thighs pressing together, seeking friction that wasn't there.
"And reality is going to be better." He leaned down and kissed the hollow of my throat, his tongue tracing the dip between my collarbones. "So much better. Because you're really here. Really mine." His teeth grazed my skin, just hard enough to make me gasp. "About to be mine forever."
"Less talking." I tugged at his shirt, frustrated by the fabric between us, my fingers curling into the linen and pulling. "More showing." I arched up to nip at his jaw, feeling the rasp of stubble against my lips.
His grin turned wicked, that playful edge sharpening into something hungrier. "Yes ma'am." He sat up and pulled his shirt over his head in one fluid motion, tossing it aside without looking where it landed. The candlelight played across his chest—leaner than Harper's, but still defined, golden skin stretched over muscle. A scattering of freckles across his shoulders that I'd never noticed before. I reached up to touch them, tracing with my fingertip, and watched goosebumps rise in the wake of my touch.
"Your turn," he said, his voice dropping lower, rougher. His fingers found the hem of my dress—a simple sundress, easy to remove—and started sliding it up my thighs, his knuckles brushing bare skin. "Want to see you. All of you."
I lifted my hips to help him, then my arms, and the dress disappeared over my head. I hadn't worn a bra—the dress didn't need one—and his sharp intake of breath when he saw me bare made heat flood my cheeks and pool between my thighs.
