“I’d ask if you’re certain you want me to be that person, but it’s a little late now.” His arms came around me and towed my stiff body into his. “I know it sounds pretentious, then again Iama pretentious ass, right . . .?”
My snort was muffled by his satiny skin.
“But thank you for giving me that honor.”
I rolled my eyes behind my lids.
“Now, let’s start over,” he said, pulling away from me.
“I’m pretty sure we can’t.” I gestured to the trickle of blood on my calf.
Remo towed me toward the laid-out pelts. “What I meant was, let’s try this again. Let me make this . . . better.” He let go of my hand, walked over to our balled T-shirts, picked one up at random, then returned to me. Before I could figure what he planned on doing with it, he crouched and wiped the blood off my leg before tossing it aside.
“I liked it, Remo.” Sure the stabbing pain had put a tiny damper on how much I’d liked it, but the fact remained that I’d enjoyed the brief fullness, the quick slip and slide of flesh, the hiss of pleasure that had fallen from his lips. “You sounded like you liked it, too. Well, until . . .” I nibbled on the inside of my mouth.
“I did. Very much.” He pushed long strands of hair off my face and tucked them behind my ear. “I promise you plenty of cavemen sex later, but let me make your first—”
“Second.”
“I believe it still counts as your first—”
“Technically not.”
He shot me a pointed look that shut me right up. “Lie down, woman. Unless you’d rather argue semantics.”
I smiled; he smiled back. And just like that, all the awkwardness was gone, and my heart finally discarded all the different emotions that had beat within it, settling on a single one—joy.
43
The Wake-Up Call
Iwoke up to Remo’s nails gliding up and down the arm I’d slung over him last night and hadn’t removed, afraid he might decide to leave while I slept. I’d never thought of myself as clingy but perhaps I’d be one of those girlfriends.
He must’ve heard my mind whirring, because his fingers stopped traipsing across my skin, and he turned to face me on our furred pallet. “Hey.” He tucked a piece of hair behind my ear. “How do you feel?”
“I’m guessing the same way I look.”
“Beautiful, then? Pleased to hear it.”
I rolled my eyes, the prickly violet fur digging into my raw cheek. “I was thinking more along the lines ofgiant bruise.”
Remo slid his arm under my neck and pulled me against him, pillowing my injured cheek on his bicep, which wasn’t much softer than the fur but a lot smoother.
The way his eyes sank into mine made me forget all about my throbbing face. He leaned in, pressed a feather-light kiss to my mouth. “We should get up.”
“We should.”
Neither of us moved.
In truth, I wasn’t sure I could. I really did feel like a massive hematoma. Although the main reason for my inaction was bliss. I flicked a lock of red hair out of his eyes, letting my fingers linger on his birthmark. “Can’t believe I broke all my rules.”
“What rules were those?” His words were so husky they sent a little thrill up my spine.
“Kissing redheads with the last name Farrow.”
“Oh. Those.”
I smiled at his evident contempt for my rules.
