Page 31 of River & Rue

I loosen my hold enough for her feet to touch the ground, but my body ignores my demand to release her completely. Probably because she’s the only reason I’m still upright.

She shoves me again, her hips wiggling.

“Give me a second, okay? My back is jacked up. And for the love of god, stop moving.”

She either doesn’t hear the strain in my voice or, more likely, doesn’t care. Her squirming intensifies, her hips churning against mine. The resulting mix of arousal and pain is like nothing I’ve ever felt before.

Confusing. Slightly fascinating.

Deeply unpleasant.

That unpleasantness increases exponentially when she screeches in my face.

“Oh my god, is that your dick?”

The disgust in her voice works like an electric shock. I recoil backward, making it two steps before white-hot pain freezes me in place. My legs tremble. I try to lock my knees, but they wave goodbye and drop me like a bad habit.

I hit the trail on all fours, my palms and shins taking the brunt. Cursing, I flop onto my side, then roll onto my back and drag my knees up. The worst of the pressure releases from my lower back, but the painful spasms continue.

Rue falls to her knees beside me, her worried face appearing right above mine, and all I can think is that our faces have never been this close.

Tendrils of russet hair are plastered to her forehead and temples. Beads of sweat dot the skin beneath her nose, a sight that shouldn’t be nearly as appealing as it is. I see every single freckle on her cheeks. The different blues in her eyes. Her lips are a little chapped, and there’s a tiny white line bisecting the curve of her lower lip that I’ve never noticed before. It’s an old scar, and I frown, wondering how she got it. How old she was.

Then she opens her mouth and reminds me why I shouldn’t care.

“I thought you were messing with me!”

My jaw drops. “The fuck?”

She turns beet red. “Not with that. I know you didn’t—or wouldn’t—you know—to me. Or to anyone. Without consent or whatever.”

“Gee, thanks.” Molars grinding, I close my eyes so I don’t have to look at her. “Believe me, the reaction was involuntary and entirely your fault. I told you to stop dry-humping me.”

Her breath catches. “You’re such an asshole.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know. Just go away.”

There’s a beat of silence, then a violent tug on my scalp. I hiss, more from shock than pain, and my eyes fly open. Rue smiles down at me, not an ounce of regret in sight for attempting to yank my bun off my head.

“What is wrong with you?”

She shrugs. “Depends on who you ask.”

“Let go of my hair.”

“Stop being a brat.”

This woman. Un-fucking-believable.

“Final warning. Let go.”

She has the audacity to smirk. “Or what? You’ll glare me to death? Don’t be a baby, River. It doesn’t even hurt. See?”

She yanks my hair again.

Only this time, I’m looking into her glittering eyes as she does it. This time, the firm tug generates a surge of heat and sends my body an entirely different message.

It doesn’t matter that I don’t make a sound. That my bunched shorts conceal the rising evidence. Rue is staring right into my eyes, and I see the moment she realizes they’ve dilated.