“I don’t know. You’re the nerd. You tell me.”
He flipped my ankles off his shoulders and pulled me closer to him by the backs of my knees. “How dare you. I’m not a nerd, Raven.” He paused long enough to smolder. “I’m a bad boy.”
I humored the nerd and urged him to go on. “That’s so hot, Admiral Steele. Tell me more.” I used his official title despite his warning about how he was undercover for the Canadian Navy. Then I set my glass behind him, and, while I was leaning forward, I climbed up to straddle him.
“I put my jeans on straight out of the dryer even though the rivets burn like hellfire,” he stated as proof before brushing my hair back and peering deep into my eyes. Maybe it was the alcohol or all the acting practice we’d done that night, but he was getting more and more convincing by the minute. “I change my own oil and my own windshield wiper blades—without gloves.”
“On your big truck?” I inquired as I ground against him and kissed his neck.
“On my semi—no, rig. Yeah. My big rig.”
“Fuck,” I hissed.
He’d used a lower voice in the elevator, but up close, I could feel the gravelly rumble of it against my naked body.
“Fuck is right.” His arm circled me, and soon his fist found the hair at the nape of my neck and guided my eyes back to his. “I swore to myself after I broke my grandfather out of an Icelandic prison I’d never put myself in that much peril again. But tonight, in this giant soapy fish tank in a hotel room with a super-sweet garden view—with you—I’ve never been in more danger.”
I had one last clever quip before I gave it all up and attacked him. “Dangerous because of the poison I put in your beer?”
“That was you?”
I laughed manically. “You’re damn right it was me, and I’d do it all again.” I kissed him softly on the lips. “But don’t you fret. I have the antidote.”
He blew a stream of air so powerfully my eyelashes fluttered in the breeze. “Thank God, Brightmore. Where’s it at?”
“It’s inside me,” I answered as demure and mysterious as I could…if you ignored the hiccup. “And there’s only one way to get to it.”
“Through your mou…” His voice trailed off once he saw my expression.
I shook my head, whistled a yoohoo, and glanced between us.
“Your pussy has the poison-curing antidote in it? What a dumb place to hide it. That was the first place I wanted to look.”
“Your time’s a-wasting, Harley. Only my”—I thought quickly—“my third orgasm can save you now.”
“Thuh-ree?” he cried.
“Three.”
He huffed and winked. “Fine. I guess getting you off is better than dying. Besides, my morning revolver duel with an old enemy isn’t until nine.”
“That’s the most romantic thing anyone has ever said to me.”
We were ridiculous. Months earlier, I never would have fathomed Mr. Grumpy from the courthouse himself would be capable of a conversation that off the wall. But he was there for it one hundred percent, and I tried, desperately so, not to acknowledge that he was actually just there for me.
No matter how stupid.
Crazy.
Difficult.
Life-altering.
Or just all-around ludicrous.
We were together. No lies. No betrayal. No tragedies dividing us.
Just us, in any and every variation we could conjure.
Life still existed outside that bathtub. Broken hearts, strained relationships, past traumas, a dumpster fire of pain raging between us.
We couldn’t hide forever, but dammit, we could try.
And that was exactly what we did as he carried me to his bed and then found the antidote in record time.
Bowen
For the rest of the conference, I blew off virtually every morning and afternoon meeting I was supposed to attend. I showed up just enough in the middle of the day to keep Oscar from pounding my door down.
Each morning, Remi would wake up in my bed. We’d share coffee and room service, talking about absolutely nothing while she got ready. For those few precious days, we didn’t let the past suffocate our good time. We only lived in the moment. Then I’d walk her across the street, kiss her indecently in the hotel lobby, and spend the rest of my day replaying our nights together while counting down the hours until she came home.
And for those few short days with her in my life again, home was exactly what that hotel had been. If it had meant keeping her, I would have packed up everything I owned and moved myself and Clyde into that one-bedroom garden view suite.
But all good things must come to an end.
I’d sworn to myself I wouldn’t allow the dread of losing her to ruin our last night together. Even though the countdown was now in hours rather than days, I still had her. And when the clock ran out on our little charade, I would go home with far more than I’d expected.
