Remy (Real Book 3)

We’re hopping from location to location for the new season, and while Pete and I check us into our Phoenix hotel, something makes my hackles rise. I turn around to spot Brooke across the lobby, heatedly arguing with Riley, who’s heatedly arguing back.

“Hey.” I reach them in five steps and immediately grab Riley by the collar. “What the fuck are you doing?” I demand.

Scowling, he pulls free and signals at Brooke, who’s scowling back at him. “I was trying to explain to Brooke, here, that things weren’t as happy when she was away.”

I don’t know what Riley’s arguing about, but I do know this: I don’t like the look on Brooke’s face. I don’t like the way her lips look downturned at the corners, and I let the asshole know it. “It’s done with. You got that?” I angrily push my finger into his sternum until he stumbles back. “You got that?” I demand.

“Yeah, I got that,” he grumbles.

Good. I curl my fingers around the back of Brooke’s neck and I guide her into the elevator and then into our suite.

We head inside and she goes straight to the window, and I survey her round little ass. That ass is mine. “You like the room, little firecracker?” I wrap her in my arms and press into her body. “Want to hit the running trail when it gets dark?”

I play with her neck with my lips, when she turns around.

“Did you fuck other women?”

She looks at me with a new somber gleam in her eyes, and I stare back like a fucking idiot, not understanding what the fuck is going on.

“I realize I have no right to ask you.” She surveys me, and I survey her. “We broke up, right? It was the end of it. But . . . did you?”

It dawns on me that she’s jealous.

My little firecracker. Jealous.

Of me.

“It matters to you?” I ask her, smirking as my chest crams with all the shit only she makes me feel. “If I slept with anyone?”

She grabs a couch pillow and hurtles it into my chest, eyes flashing. “What do you think, you fucking jerk?”

Grabbing the pillow, I toss it aside, smiling in amusement. “Tell me how much it matters,” I croon, dodging another pillow and loving her cheeks this pink and pretty.

“Tell me!” she screams.

“Why?” I demand. She’s backing away, but I’m coming right after her. “You left me, little firecracker. You left me with a sweet letter telling me, very nicely, to go fuck myself and to have a nice life.”

“No! I left you with a letter that told you I loved you! Something you hadn’t told me until I came back to you and begged you to tell me.”

“You’re so fucking cute like this. Come here.” I pull her into my arms but she struggles to pull free.

“Remington. You’re laughing at me!” she cries wretchedly.

“I said come here,” I say, gathering her closer, and I’m fucking dying to kiss her senseless.

“Remy, tell me! Please tell me, what did you do?” she jealously begs, squirming to get free as she looks up at me. I swear I could look into her eyes all day, look into her face all day.

Using my body to flatten her against the wall, I place my forehead against hers and look into her eyes. “I like that you’re jealous. Is it because you love me? Do you feel proprietary of me?”

“Let go,” she angrily breathes, squirming between me and the wall.

God, she’s so lovely. I cup her cheek and softly tell her, “I do. I feel completely proprietary of you. You’re mine. I’m not letting you go.”

“You said no to me,” she angrily grits out, her eyes burning with fury. “For months and months. I was dying for you. I was going crazy. I . . . came . . . like a fucking idiot! On your fucking leg! You withheld yourself from me until I was . . . dying a little inside with wanting you. You’ve got more willpower than Zeus! But the first women they bring to your door . . . the moment I’m gone, the first whores they happened to bring you . . .”

“What would you have done if you were here? Stopped it?” My dare comes out as a whisper, and I’m struggling not to remember how I felt when I realized she fucking LEFT ME!

“Yes!” she cries.

“But where were you?” I demand, my blood starting to simmer.

“Where were you, Brooke?” I demand. I curl my hand around her throat and caress the pulse point with my thumb, searching her eyes.

“I was broken,” she whispers. “You broke me.”

“No. You. Your letter. Broke me.” Watching her, I trail my thumb along her throat and jaw, and then I watch as I trace her pink mouth, the only mouth I want. “What does it matter if I had to kiss a thousand lips to forget these?”

We hear a knock. I don’t move.

My body is tight and ready to claim hers. She’s my mate, and I want her to fucking tell me she’s jealous because I’m hers, and she’s mine, and that’s the end of it.

Then I want her to take me inside, I want to pound her hard and fill her with me.

But she doesn’t speak. My stubborn little minx doesn’t speak.

Letting her cool down, I open the door, tip the bellman, and pull in the suitcases on my own as fast as I can, one of my arms shooting out to stop her when she walks past me. “Come here, settle down now,” I command.

But she pushes my hand away, then steps out and says to the bellman, “Thank you. Would you send this duffel with that other suitcase to the other room?” she says, pointing at her suitcase.

Nodding, the guy pushes the cart back toward the elevators.

“Where are you going?” I ask.

She turns around and looks at me, breathing slowly, looking at me with wide, pained eyes. “I want to sleep with Diane tonight. I don’t feel so well and I’d rather we talk about it when I . . . when I . . . am settled down.”

I burst out laughing. “You can’t be serious.”

My laughter dies when she boards the elevator.

I stand there. My heart pounding for me to chase. But I’m too disbelieving to move.

The elevator closes.

And yes.

My woman. Just fucking boarded. That shit elevator. And left me here!

I grab my suitcase and toss it across the room with a yell, then I slam the door behind me and go kick the shit out of it.

“FUUCK!” Then I kick the pillow that is still on the floor, clamp my jaw and call Pete so he can give me Diane’s fucking room number.

When he answers, and I speak, I sound murderous. “Diane’s fucking room number.”

“Wh-whaaat? Shit, Rem, Riley told me about the argument . . . please just count to fucking a hundred before you do anything,” Pete says.

“The room. Now.”

“Two–four–three–eight.”

I slam the phone down and silently does as he says and count to a hundred.

I’ve got the phone in my hand by number 98, and by 99, I got my fucking finger on the numbers. I finally pound the keys, and when Diane’s voice answers I very softly, and very angrily growl, “I’m going down there for Brooke, so you can either open the door for me, or I can break it down. Your choice.”

I slam the phone and stop at the door, telling myself to breathe.

But I can barely pull the air into my lungs I’m so agitated at the thought of not sleeping with her. I’m agitated remembering she left me. She could leave me. Any. Fucking. Day. Again. Until I win this championship and make her marry me.

I’m so ready to make her my wife, my body preps me as if for a physical fight, and I’m ready to hunt and capture her. I squeeze my knuckles and focus on my breath as I head two floors down, and the instant I reach the door, Diane opens it.

Shit, but I think I wanted to break that fucking door!

“Diane,” I greet her, then I head straight for Brooke. She’s curled in a fucking ball, crying on that bed, and all my anger and frustration arrows to stiffen my cock up instantly.

Because more than jealous, more than possessive, she’s hurt.

And my body seems to think the way to make it better is to turn those sobs into moans.

God, I need to fuck her and get fucking close to her. I need to kiss her and pet her.

I need her. In. My. Room. My Bed. And my body in her.

“You,” I quietly tell her, opening my hand. “Come with me.”

“I don’t want to.” She wipes a tear.

Breathing through my nose, I try to stay calm, telling her, “You’re mine and you need me, and I want you to please come the fuck upstairs with me.”

She sniffles.

“All right, come here.” Grabbing her by the hips, I swing her up in my arms. “Good night, Diane.”

She kicks and struggles, but I clench my hold on her to still her, bending to whisper to her, “Kick and claw all you like. Scream. Hit me. Curse the fuck out of me. You won’t sleep anywhere but with me tonight.”

She’s silently angry as I head to our room, but I’m fucking angrier that she had the fucking balls to try and leave me if only for half a moment. I don’t even know why we’re fighting about this. I was amused by her jealousy, but I’m not amused anymore. I need to be inside her, and I need it now. One touch and she’ll fucking know she’s every woman to me.

Inside our room, I toss her on the bed and jerk off my T-shirt, then I reach out to get rid of her clothes. She flails and kicks at me, her face still streaked with tears as she edges back. “You asshole, don’t touch me!”

“Hey, hey, listen to me.” I trap her in my arms and hold her gaze with mine, my heart pounding as my hunter instincts kick in full gear in preparation to make her mine again. “I am insane about you. I’ve been in hell without you. In hell. Stop being ridiculous,” I tell her, meaningfully squeezing her face. “I love you. I love you. Come here.”

I haul her onto my lap, and she quietly starts crying. Every soft sob rips me in two. I remember it all. I may not remember what I did when she was gone, but I remember the emptiness of her like a curse on me. Maybe I fucked up, but all I probably did was try to fill the void she left in me which nobody can ever fucking fill but her.

“How well did you think I’d cope when you left?” I ask her, hurting like a son of a bitch at the reminder. “Did you think it would be easy on me? That I wouldn’t feel alone? Betrayed? Fucking lied to? Used? Discarded? Worthless? Dead? Did you think there wouldn’t be days where I loathed you more than I loved you for tearing me apart? Did you?”

“I’ve left everything for you.” She looks straight at me, hurt as if I did her bodily harm. “Since I met you, all I wanted was to be yours. You said you were mine. That you were my . . . my . . . Real.”

A pained groan leaves me as I squish her to me, quietly rasping, “I’m the realest fucking thing you’re ever going to have.”

She still looks up, and those hurt, tear-filled eyes of hers claw me like talons. “It should’ve been me all those times,” she says tearfully. “It should’ve been just me, only me.”

“Then don’t fucking tell me you love me and leave me. Don’t fucking beg me to make you mine and then run the first chance I’m not fucking looking. I couldn’t even come catch you. Is that fair to me? Is it? I couldn’t even get up on my own fucking legs and come stop you.”

She sobs harder, and my chest fucking hurts for the both of us.

“I woke up to read your letter instead of getting to see you. You were all I wanted to see. All. I wanted. To see,” I quietly tell her.

Fuck. Maybe I wish I hadn’t said that, but she hurts me and she doesn’t know it. I’m strong physically but she guts me. What she does guts me, and her pain—caused by me—guts me most of all.

As she cries herself to sleep, her sobs softening gradually until all that’s left is a hiccup in her soft breaths, I breathe her hair and hold her tighter than ever. I never ever want her to leave. Not even for a night to sleep in Diane’s suite. I don’t remember what I did when she left me, I was so out of it. But it doesn’t matter, nothing mattered but that she wasn’t with me.

When she’s sound asleep, I start stripping her clothes, leaving her panties for last, pulling them down her leg and tossing everything aside. I stand up to strip myself too, then I get back in bed, naked.

I’m so fucking hard my balls hurt, but Brooke shivers in her sleep and searches for my body heat, innocently rolling in her sleep to press closer to me. “That’s right, I’m right here,” I say and wrap my arms around her. I drag my nose along her nape, petting her during the night, scenting and licking her. “I only love you. You’re mine, and I’m yours. Nobody will ever have me but you.”

♥  ♥  ♥

SHE’S TANGLED IN bed with me two mornings later.

Yesterday morning, she was quiet and angry at me, but this morning I’ve finally appeased her, and she’s relaxed and in my arms. Her dark hair is spread behind her pillow and she’s resting on her stomach, her face buried in my chest while I at last pull in a good breath.

Hell, I felt like such an unwanted piece of shit yesterday, every breath felt like I was pulling in water. I got punched last night at the fight so she would stop ignoring me and touch me.

She wouldn’t touch me and I couldn’t fucking stand it.

She had no choice but to touch me after the fight.

She was worried about me, tending to my cut lip up to the point she realized I took the hits on purpose. Then she was all fire and anger, ordering me into the shower so she could rub me with her oils after. I like to let her think she can order me around. But not this time. I carried her into the shower with me and told her she would fucking love me if it killed us both. Jesus, I’m so fucking greedy when it comes to her.

“You coming to the gym?” I quietly ask, massaging her butt with the palm of my hand.

She doesn’t stir. Pressing against her back and scenting the back of her ear, I nip her playfully, then tongue her ear, and my cock hardens instantly, and a quick glance at the clock tells me there’s time for that. “You’re the most fuckable thing I’ve ever had the pleasure of seeing, touching, and sucking the hell out of,” I rasp, nuzzling her.

She sighs softly. I force myself to get up and brush my teeth, then I grab my clothes from the closet and ram my legs into my sweatpants. She’s still asleep, and I’m still hard, so I set my T-shirt aside, and go back to bed to wake her.

I pull the sheet down so the cold air makes her skin pebble and I can lick all those little cold bumps on her ass. I bite one cheek, then the other, sliding my hands between her legs to cup her pussy, growling softly when my cock starts pulsing, but when she doesn’t squeal or so much as move, I frown and ease back to look at her.

Last night she was tired, and yet she still let me have her. She was languid as I fucked her, letting me turn her, suck her, finger and tongue her. She kept coming fast and hard for me every time, her eyes dewy and sleepy, watching me as I told her how good she felt, how good she smelled . . .

You’re so hard for me, I love having you in me, she breathed, half-asleep.

I want to fucking live in you, I said, again and again, as I’ve said before.

She sighed and came, and after our fight, I still couldn’t have enough, so after relaxing for an hour or two, I woke her up, scented her, and fucked her, loving how wet she was.

She’s sleeping so soundly now I can’t wake her again. Running my eyes down her curves, I make love to every inch with my eyes, then I pull the sheets and cover her back up, leaning over as I brush her dark hair behind one ear.

I press my lips to her ear, “Dream of us.” Then I pat her butt again and stand. I bounce in place a few seconds to bring the blood from my cock back to my limbs and brain, then I head out to the kitchen to find Diane already on breakfast.

Pete is already in the living room, dressed and with the car keys.

I grab a green bar and a protein shake, tell Diane to feed my girl, and then we’re off.

We’re not a block away when Pete’s phone beeps. He answers, “Yeah,” and starts listening, his smile vanishing and his face paling by the second. My instincts shift into overdrive. My heart starts kicking harder and deeper.

BROOKE.

BROOKE.

BROOKE.

Pete swerves the car around and tosses me the phone as he speeds back into the hotel driveway. Diane’s voice screeches out of the receiver before I even place it on my ear, “Get back here! Get back here please!” she begs.

I see red.

Before the car screeches to a halt, I yank open the door and charge out and into the elevator, my reflexes lightning fast. Pete slides in behind me, and neither of us says a word as I press the floor button over and over as we head up.

“REMINGTON!” Diane screams from the door when I charge out the elevator with Pete running after me. I charge past Diane and slam the door wide open only to see Brooke motionless on the floor, a puddle of water surrounding her, and soft crying sounds trembling out of her.

And there are . . . scorpions! All over her! Lightning fast, I charge over, grabbing and crushing them in my hands one by one. Stingers sink into my palms, but there’s no pain. All my senses are honed in on Brooke. The way she’s crying, the way she’s trembling, everything I see making me half mad. I toss the last scorpion aside and pull her like a man clinging to life into my arms, and she’s shaking and whimpering while I struggle to breathe through my nose, my body trembling with the need to fight and protect her, my system overloaded with adrenaline as a rage unlike any other starts bubbling in my veins.

“I got you,” I passionately hiss as I wipe her tears, squeezing her to me. “I got you. I got you.”

If I lose her, it’s over for me. I’m done.

“A woman just came and knocked! She said Remy had ordered the box for her!” Diane cries out between sobs.

I don’t hear the rest of what they’re saying. I squeeze Brooke closer to my body and bend to her little ear. “I’m going to kill him,” I angrily promise her. “I swear to god, I’m going to kill him so slowly.”

Pete is whacking the scorpions with a frying pan, telling me something which runs in through one of my ears, and out the other.

I’m too busy rubbing my hands up Brooke’s arms and run my eyes up and down her body, inspecting her skin for marks. “Where did they bite you? Tell me exactly where, and I’ll suck all the poison out.”

“I . . . e-everywhere . . .” she says, looking helplessly up at me. God, I love her, I love her I love her and I’m sucking every drop of poison out of her.

“You shouldn’t suck on these—let me have a look at her,” Pete says as he comes over.

She’s trembling so hard, I fucking can’t let go, so I shake my head and tighten my arms around her and rock her. “I got you, little firecracker, I got you right here in my arms,” I whisper fiercely. Brooke trustingly clings to me, and it guts me that I just left her, safe and warm in my bed.

Rage and impotence flood me.

“Rem, let me see her,” Pete insists.

“No,” she moans, clutching me. “Don’t let go, don’t let go,” she continues to moan.

“Never,” I promise in her ear, my heart crashing fiercely into my ribs. Never.

I need to protect her. I need to make it better. I need the poison out of her body if it’s the last fucking thing I do.

“According to Google, they’re Arizona bark scorpions. Venomous but not deadly,” Pete says as he searches his phone.

“Hang on to me,” I whisper to Brooke, and when her arms are tight around my neck, I lift her up and cross the room.

“Where the heck are you going with her, Tate?” Pete demands.

“To the fucking hospital, dipshit,” I growl, angrily heading toward the elevator. I’ll walk us to the hospital if I have to, but there’s a familiar buzzing in my body, and I’m starting to believe I might even fly us there.

Pete yells after me, “Dude, Diane just called the EMT. Let’s just take a fucking chill pill and give her some Benadryl.”

“You. Take a chill pill. Pete,” I snap back.

Fucking motherfucker.

Brooke is almost fucking convulsing in my arms. She can’t focus. She’s been stung by these asshole insects and I need her. To be. Tended.

“I’m awright,” she says as she blinks dazedly at me, “I’m awright, Wemy. . . .”

My body temperature plummets. I look at her, and she’s not only talking in a way that makes me want to kill something, but she’s staring at my fucking ear like it’s one of my eyes! “FUUUUUCK ME!”

The elevator doors roll open, and Riley steps off. “All right, what’s going on? Coach is waiting at the gym, Rem. . . .” He sees Brooke in my arms, and his eyes widen.

“Live scorpions,” Pete informs. “Venomous, but fortunately not deadly.”

“I can’t bweathe,” Brooke says, looking at my ear again, as if waiting for my ear to explain this shit to her.

I can’t fucking see anymore, my vision is blurred from my rage and impotence and I want to kill. Kill. KILL.

“The poison spreads through the nervous system, but it doesn’t enter the bloodstream. Try to stay calm, Brooke. These bark scorpions are nasty suckers. Can you feel your legs?” Pete asks.

She shakes her head as she wheezes out air, and Pete leans over to inspect the damage. “Let me see that. . . .” I extend out her arm so that he looks at the stings, and I look directly into Pete’s eyes, “I’m going to kill him,” I tell Pete.

“It’ll be all right, B,” Pete tells her, watching me warily and staring into my eyes with growing alarm as he adds, “I’ve had the experience once. Awful, but you really don’t die from a North American scorpion.”

“There’s a note! I turned the box over and there’s a note!” Diane cries.

“What does it say?” Pete walks back to the suite’s open door, grabs the note, and automatically reads. “ ‘You’ve kissed me. Now you’ve been kissed back by the Scorpion. How does it feel to have my venom in you?’ ”

My testosterone spikes. My heart jerks. My body tightens. Adrenaline shoots through my body and my mind snaps. My control, my fucking sanity. Snap! I’m going to kill Scorpion, and I want to dismember him before I do. Spreading his teeth across the floor. Pulling his brain out of his fucking head.

I’m fully engaged.

I’m going to dismember and get rid of the fucking threat. NOW!

Brooke moans softly, and I look down at her, pale, scared, and trembling, and my murderous determination grows tenfold at the thought of anyone, anyone, messing with my girl!

“Pete, I saw his goons downstairs in the lobby. I think he’s here at the hotel,” Riley says.

“The motherfucker is probably downstairs waiting for Remington,” Pete murmurs, rubbing a hand across his face.

“Oh, he has it coming!” I thunder. “He’s already dead!”

I’m going to make it slow. And painful. And I’m going to shove a burning firecracker up his fucking ass AND WATCH HIM EXPLODE!

Brooke. She’s trembling. She’s holding onto me, expecting me to protect her. He got to her in my fucking hotel suite! I will never fail to protect her again. Nothing will ever hurt her again. I am Remington Tate—Riptide—and I am HER MAN, HER PROTECTOR, and I am going to take care of this RIGHT. NOW.

Blood boiling, I’m touching the back of her head, and I look at her face, her glazed eyes and the tears on her skin, and I’ve never been more ready to commit murder, but I manage to speak softly when I tell her, “I need to do something right now. I love you. I fucking love you to pieces, and I’m going to come back and put you back together again, all right?”

She nods and trembles, and my gut is being cut on the inside, because I don’t want to leave her either, goddammit.

“Why is she shaking like this, goddammit?” I ask Pete as I carry her back to the room.

He looks at me apologetically. “It’s the nervous system being affected. She sustained several stings, so it’ll be painful. While the EMT is on his way, let’s give her some Tylenol.”

Tylenol, yes. Tylenol and murder. My body is so wired and I’m single-minded. I feel like a robot who’s just been programmed to kill, and the fact that he hurt my little firecracker was the trigger button.

Heart pounding, muscles tightening, system overworking, I carry her back to the room and set her on the sofa, inhaling the top of her head. Every minute that motherfucker enjoys life while Brooke has trouble breathing is penance. Every fucking bite I see on her skin screams at me to go hurt whoever hurt her.

That’s right. I’m Death. I am fucking Death and I’m coming for him now.

“I’m going to go crush him now,” I tell her. With all the love I feel for her, I’m doing it.

I’m charging off to the elevator and hear Pete yell after me. “Damn it, he’s full speed ahead, Ri, go after him before he sees Scorpion or any of his goons— Diane! Get some cold compresses and wait for the EMT. We need to go get that man!”

Ha. They’re not fucking stopping me. I head for the stairs so they won’t find me in the elevator and run down several flights.

When I shove open the exit door into the lobby, I see them immediately. He’s right there. Scorpion. Two goons. He’s looking at me. I look at him and curl my fists. “You’re dead, asshole.”

He grins. “Your crowd is waiting,” he says.

The elevators to my right ping.

Riley steps off, and he sees me.

“Rem,” he says cautiously, holding the elevator door open as he spots Scorpion and his crew. “Rem, I can’t let you do this.”

“Don’t make me break you, brother,” I warn him, and that’s when I feel a prick behind me.

The darkness pulls me, but I’m not going down. I’m not going to go down until Scorpion bleeds to death and Brooke is safe in my arms.

“Dude, you weigh a fucking ton!” Riley adjusts me as he and Pete start trying to get me up the stairs. “Good job, Pete, those assholes didn’t even see you behind him.”

“Fuck you,” I growl.

God, fuck me. Fuck Pete. Fuck Riley. Fuck Scorpion I’m going to kill that motherfucker on the ring! I hope it’s a submission fight and he’s so fucking proud he won’t submit and I’ll just BREAK. HIS. FINGERS. THEN HIS ELBOWS. HIS FIBULA. TIBIA. HIS SKULL. THEN HIS NECK.

The guys are panting, floor by floor, and they both keep telling me to hang on while I keep telling them to take me to Brooke.

“Hang on, buddy,” Pete says breathlessly as he helps Riley bring me back to the room.

“Need to see Brooke,” I insist.

They get me on the bed and I hear Pete telling Riley to “Get the other side” and ask me what the hell he’s going to do with me.

“Brooke,” I angrily tell them.

“She’s coming, dude!” Pete says, laughing at my stubbornness.

They prop a pillow up behind me and I see her. Diane is helping her to bed, and I look worriedly at her.

My girl. God my girl hurt because of me.

“Okay?” I rasp out.

She smiles softly at me as she eases into bed and pulls the cover over us both, sliding her fingers into my hair.

“More than okay,” she says, her eyes bright with love and understanding. All the tension in my body leaves me when she speaks to me. I was fighting not to succumb to the sedative, but her voice makes me unwind, and I succumb to her.

♥  ♥  ♥

BROOKE HASN’T RECOVERED from the stings, and I’m still black as fucking midnight.

She’s been sleeping too much, and she spent the flight to Las Vegas sequestered in the toilet. The word pregnant has been popping out of Diane’s mouth.

Pregnant.

Eight letters, one word that makes my chest swell, my cock hard.

“I’m not pregnant!” Brooke’s been telling me.

She keeps denying it, but I swear to god I can almost smell it on her. I smell it on her and it makes me even harder.

While she takes a home pregnancy test, I’ve run around a worn path on the hotel carpet, but the urge to fuck is still acute. Now I’m shadow boxing between the bed and the seating area, trying to get rid of all this extra energy and pull the blood out of my cock. Pump, swing, pump. Holy shit, she could be pregnant. My balls draw tight at the thought and my cock jerks again. God, I hope she’s pregnant. Now. I fucking pray she’s pregnant. Sensing her all of a sudden, I turn around, and she’s watching me with a lost, thoughtful look in her eyes.

“You check yet?” I ask impatiently.

She jerks at my voice and looks at me, looking thoughtful and delectable. Once again, my cock goes up.

“Brooke?”

She gnaws on the inside of her cheek and frowns, her expression uncertain.

“Did you or did you not pee on a stick, baby?” I prod.

“I did! I told you I did!” She goes back into the bathroom and comes out with a white stick. She looks at it, and I’m so restless, and so primed to mate, I continue pumping the air.

I swear if she’s not pregnant, we’ll remedy that soon. I’ll keep fucking and taking and claiming her until she is. I want to be the father of her children. I want her to be mine. Every breath, every sigh, every moan of hers, mine mine mine. Her body mine, to have my children, to have me inside her. Mine to protect, to pet, to kiss, every inch mine to run my tongue over.

Feeling hot and hungry for her, I watch as she studies the test result, and I want it so bad, I’m running out of patience. “What’s it say?” I demand.

“It says . . .” She stares down at the stick, then she sets it aside, and starts walking over to me, and she looks fucking adorable, and womanly, and vulnerable.

“Remington, don’t forget this,” she whispers, framing my face in her hands and looking into my eyes. “You’re black right now, and I don’t want you to forget what I’m going to tell you. I need all of you here with me.”

“Hey.” I frame back her face in mine, looking deeply into her eyes. “I got you.”

“God, please do.”

“Yeah, I do. I got you. Now what’s wrong here? Hmm? If you aren’t, then we figure out what’s wrong with you. If you are . . .”

She runs over to get the test, then she returns and extends it out. “Two lines means, supposedly, that I am.”

My eyes remain on hers for a moment. Does she want to be? Fuck, she better want to be. She better be.

I stare at the screen at the end of the stick and immediately see the double lines.

I frown because I need to be sure, but already, my insides are buzzing with pride.

I still see two lines.

More buzzing in my body, buzzing in my skin. I think I just grew ten sizes wide and high.

I lift my gaze to her, and she looks uncertain, as if she doesn’t know whether to be worried or happy. “Come here.” Unable to hold back my smile, I pick her up and lift her into the air, smacking a kiss on her abs, then I toss her down on the bed. She squeals and bursts out laughing as I fall on her.

“You’re a crazy man! You’re the only man I know who throws his pregnant girlfriend onto a bed!” she cries.

“I’m the only man,” I correct her, “as far as I know. There’s only one man in your world, and it’s me.”

“All right, but don’t tell my dad I agreed so easily . . .” she whispers, rubbing my shoulders, gold eyes shining on me. I want this baby to have those eyes. That perfect smile.

“Brooke Dumas pregnant with my baby,” I tell her. In case she didn’t see the fucking test, now she fucking knows she’s pregnant by me.

She grins happily, and that pure little grin feels like a kiss all along my pulsing cock. “My head is reeling. Kiss me.”

I drop my head and trail my tongue in to mate with hers, then I drag the back of one finger across her cheek. “Make it look like you,” I whisper.

“You’re the one who gave this to me,” she counters.

“No, you’re giving this to me.”

“All right, we’re both such giving souls.”

She laughs, and I laugh with her and roll to my side, gathering her in my arms so I can kiss her all over. “You’re mine now, from the top of your pretty dark head to the soles of your little feet.” I caress her face and kiss her eyelids, and I’m so fucking delighted, I swear things are actually moving in my chest. “Don’t even think about leaving me again or I’ll come after you and so help me god, I’m going to tie you to where I am, and where I sleep, and where I eat. Do you hear me, Brooke Dumas?”

She nods breathlessly. “There isn’t a single part of me that doesn’t know I’m yours.”

She seizes my hand and spreads it over the curve of her breast, right over her heart.

I clench her breast possessively so she remembers its mine, and I bend my head and kiss her. “I’m so crazy about you,” I rasp, and I drag my hand down her lovely curves and pet her.