“Business called your breakfast out of bed today.” “You mean aside from the one that walked out of my bed?” He pinches my nose and now leans to me. “Do you want breakfast?” he asks me.īiting the inside of my cheek, I lean over and drop my voice to spare Pete. Instead of answering his PA, he turns to me and threads his fingers at the hair on my nape. I like my more than two hundred pounds of reckless, but his reckless still worries me even if he doesn’t seem in the slightest perturbed by Pete’s warnings.
He’s hardheaded and insistent and stubborn, but especially, he is Bipolar 1, and you don’t want to rouse his black side unless you’re prepared to deal with more than two hundred pounds of reckless that doesn’t sleep. I’m barely wrapping my head around the topic, but whatever it is, “provoking” Remington is not a good idea. He’s going to try to screw with your head. He’s spying on us now, and he’s going to do his best to sabotage you this year. the fucking bastard cheated to win, and he knows he’s going to lose as long as you’re fighting this season. His fingers trace down my back as he downs the bottle, and Pete is left scratching and shaking his head in complete confusion. Then he shifts me to one of his thighs so he can grab his sports drink from the table and finally looks at Pete, his voice low but firm. He kicks the chair farther out and drops down, hauling me with him. “Good morning, Brooke Dumas.” My tummy clenches in response to that, and with the soft kiss he sets on my ear, my knees going buttery, because he always does this to me, and as Pete’s voice repeats what he just said, I start stepping away, but Remington won’t let me. Remington growls my name softly, low and deep, in the way he does when he fucks.
“Remington, are you listening to me?” Pete asks. Shit, he kills me when he does that, and between my legs, I feel a painful little clench of need. I’m breathless when he ducks his head to my neck and drags in a long, deep inhale of me. He bends his head and sets a kiss on the back of my ear as he spreads his hand open on the small of my back, stroking up to the RIPTIDE letters on the back, as if to remind me they are there.
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