Suddenly, his hands wrap around my naked ass, massaging the skin there delicately, then pull me up—I gasp, feeling his hot, bare erection. All the air leaves my lungs, leaving me panting in Remi’s arms.
“Remember I told you we’ll kiss when we’re unable to stop ourselves from kissing each other?” he asks, his lips hovering above mine.
“Yes,” I breathe, touching my lips to his—wanting to slip my tongue inside his mouth.
“Do you want me to kiss you, Kaci?”
“Yes.”
“Badly?”
“Yes. Yes.”
“Then, say it.”
“Kiss m—”
Twisting my hair in his fist, he pulls my head back. Remi’s lips smash mine in an intense kiss, one hand squeezing my breast. His hot mouth evades my senses as my clawing hands and low throat whimpers encourage everything he’s doing. Sweaty skin rubs against sweaty skin, finding even the slightest friction pleasurable. A low rumble echoes from his throat, and those hands travel up until I feel the blissful warmth pinch my nipple.
And I fall.
Bang. Bang. Bang.
I jolt from the bed. Cold air slaps against the sweaty T-shirt sticking to my body, and the only remnant of my indecent dream is my struggling lungs, pulling in all the air they can.
Bang. Bang.
The person outside knocks again, hesitantly this time. “Go away,” Candee groans from her bed, pulling the covers over her head. I look at the clock to see it’s eight in the morning. Stumbling out of bed, I walk on wobbly feet, opening the door slightly, and my jaw drops to the floor, seeing a well-dressed Remi standing in front of me with the same sexy smile he had in my dream.
My breathing hitches. I narrow my eyes at him while he continues to stand there smirking. Maybe I need a pinch—I pinch myself, and my eyes stretch wide as I feel the sting. It’s not a dream. Remi is in front of my dorm room.
“Hi.” His croaky voice does delicious things to what’s already melting inside me, while the door is the only thing preventing me from pooling on the floor. Because let’s be serious, after that dream, I’m horny, and Remi’s got all the right equipment.
“Hi,” I mutter, my voice refusing to cooperate, knowing it’s too early in the morning. I pop my head outside, hoping no one saw him, and invite him inside. “Come.” I open the door and walk in, letting him follow me.
When I turn to him, Remi’s smirk turns bashful as he roams his gaze over my body. I instinctively look down only to remember I’m wearing the pajamas I bought last summer from an erotica author’s merch, thinking the words written on it were funny. The words that are spread over my boobs say, “Squeeze us, please” and the ones across my butt say, “And these buns ain’t gonna spank themselves.” I cringe. This is what the heroine says to the hero to seduce him, and I loved that scene, but no one was supposed to see these. Especially not Remi. Earthquake, where are you? Please swallow me.
“Nice pj’s,” Remi comments, a small smile playing on his lips. His gaze flicks over the words on my boobs once again.
Heat caresses my cheeks. “Thanks,” I mumble, mentally trying to find a hole I could fit in.
“You’ve got some interesting clothes,” he praises, and I wince.
“She’s got more interesting things beneath those clothes,” Candee mumbles from her bed.
Our heads whip toward Candee’s sleeping figure. As if Remi’s comments were not enough to embarrass me, Candee’s making sure to paint me red.
“I’m sure,” Remi murmurs, and to say that it somehow inflates my ego is an understatement. It’s bad … bad … bad.
His hands slide in his pockets, and my eyes instantly zone in on those flexing arm muscles. My body remembers the feel of those hands in my dream. His gaze roams around the room as I stay fixated on him, taking in his square face, his amber eyes, and that light stubble on his structured jaw—dear lord, is it the dream or is Remi looking even sexier today?
It’s the dream, Kaci. Just the dream.
And maybe the anticipation of kissing him.
And his eyes—
No. Stop!
“So …” I begin, but my voice cracks—I’m still in the dream daze. I clear my throat, trying not to embarrass myself further. “What brings you here?” I ask.
His eyes widen slightly, and he opens his palms toward me. “Yeah, I texted you, but you didn’t reply, so I thought I’d come and ask you in person,” he explains, getting those hands back in his pockets—and the arms flex again—and of course I’m noticing. I shouldn’t. But I am.
“Oh. I didn’t check it,” I say, my gaze moving to his Adam’s apple as he speaks. Holy shit—did it bob the same way when he was speaking yesterday? Nope … no, it’s definitely different today. I feel a tingling sensation pooling in an intimate part of me.
He bites his smiling lips, and clears his throat, bringing my gaze back to his. “Um, you said something?” I ask, knowing I was too busy lusting after him to care.
“Yeah …” he says through a smirk. “I said, since I didn’t have your number, I took the liberty of taking it from the form you filled in for the class.” The skin between his eyebrows creases. “Sorry”—he shrugs—“but Wylla is going on this trip with her support group, and she wanted to have her hair styled in a weird way.” He stops and flinches. “I can’t do it, and she’s adamant about having it done that way, so I texted you, and since you didn’t reply and we live pretty close by, I thought I’d see if you could … come … you know?”
I could come, all right—that pun was fully intended. And have I mentioned how much I like that kid? Well, I like her a lot more now.
That dream must have turned me into iron because Remi feels like a magnet, and all my body wants is to stick with his. “Of course. I’d love that,” I breathe. “Let me change, and then we can go,” I say, already making my way to the closet.
“Great,” he says, and I return my attention to him. He clasps his hands together and walks backward. “I’ll wait downstairs.”
You don’t have to, my brain says, but of course, he’s already out of the door.
“C’mon, let’s get you in something flirty,” Candee says, throwing the covers back and jumping out of the bed to join me near the closet.
“I’m just going to help Wylla with her hair,” I reason, but Candee is too busy looking for flirty clothes to listen.
When I join Remi downstairs, I’m wearing a pair of faded denim shorts and a tight T-shirt that says “Focus on the Goods” across my boobs—Candee’s choice. Candee’s T-shirt.
He pathetically fails to keep his gaze off my boobs until I join him near his bike. Mission accomplished, Candee.
When I stop before him, he takes the helmet, places it over my head, and starts strapping it under my chin. He keeps his hands there for a few more seconds and then lets them drop. “Ready?” he asks, and in one swift move, he’s on the bike, strapping his own helmet.
“Yeah.” I place my hands on his shoulders, as leverage, and climb on the bike behind him. My twitchy hands snake their way around his abdomen, appraising how wonderfully rigid the muscles feel there.
***
“Kaciiiii …” I hear my name being yelled with zeal before seeing the wheelchair making its way to me. “You came.”
“I did.” I crouch and give a playful tap on her nose. I can’t help but notice that her hair is tangled.
Her giggles light up the room as she takes my hand in hers. “Come with me.” She wheels herself with her free hand.
I start to grab the wheelchair’s handle when Nicholas enters the living room, biting into an apple. “Hi, Nicholas.” He shakes his head at me, pointing at my hands before throwing Remi an apple. I pull my hands back.
“Wylla doesn’t like anyone touching, or worse, steering the wheelchair,” Remi murmurs, his breath tickling my ear.
One side of Nicholas’s lip lifts in an attempt to smile, and he nods his greeting. I guess I’ll consider myself lucky since one side of thos
e lips lifted to smile at me. After a mental eye-roll, I see I’m being led to sit on the couch.
“I have a support group where we do a lot of fun stuff. And I have a lot of friends there.”
“I don’t doubt that,” I comment, taking my phone out of my pocket and placing it on the nearby table before taking a seat.
“So”—she wheels herself until my feet and hers are touching—“I need to look the prettiest.” The seriousness in her expression makes me nod in agreement.
“Then, let’s get to work. How much time do we have?”
She glances at me under her lashes and gives a helpless look at Remi, who is leaning on the wall, near the door, looking at us. Mirth dances in his eyes. “Ten minutes,” he says after swallowing the apple in his mouth.
My gaze snaps back to Wylla, and she shrinks. “It’s Remi’s fault.” She fixes him a look. “He took his sweet time bringing you here. And you should have seen what these two did with my hair. We almost had to cut it.”
I gasp, showing her my sympathy. “That’s terrible.”
“They were laughing at how bad my hair looked.” She sends them a sidelong glance, a blush staining her cheeks.
“We’ll need to have a little talk about not laughing at Wylla,” I scold the boys, and they dutifully nod, not daring to break into laughter.
“Remi brought a knife to cut it, saying he couldn’t find the scissors.” She cut him a dark look.
“That is very bad, Remi. Very bad indeed. No one is cutting Wylla’s hair. And with a knife, that’s awful.” I get back to Wylla.
“And Nicholas doesn’t let me braid his hair.” She peeks at Nicholas before tucking her chin low.
I feign horror by letting my mouth fall open in shock. “Why would you do that, Nicholas? I mean, what’s the use of having long hair if you won’t let Wylla braid it for you?”
Nicholas stops the apple halfway to his mouth and arches an eyebrow at Wylla. “Because I’m not particularly fond of how I look when I have two pigtails on either side of my head.”
I snort and cough, hiding my laughter, imagining Nicholas in pigtails.
“He didn’t look that bad,” Wylla mumbles, giving Nicholas a deep frown. The latter narrows his eyes to slits. This banter makes me happy. They are all so lucky to have each other.
I sigh. “I’ll scold them some more later, okay?” Wylla nods. “Now, tell me how you want your hair done?”
She lowers her head. “I want my hair like DIY with Tacos.”
“Who is Tacos?” I glance at everyone in the room. Remi’s and Nicholas’s eyes are watering as they try to suppress their laughter.
Wylla’s head snaps up. “You don’t know Tacos?”
“No.”
“She’s a YouTuber, and she creates DIY stuff. She’s funny. I like watching her videos. See that?” she says, pointing at a paper wreath. “I did that with Mrs. Dunlop’s old newspaper by watching Tacos’s videos.”
“You did that?”
Her lips spread, and she nods. “I did.”
“Wow. You’re an artist. That’s beautiful, Wylla.”
“Thank you, Kaci. So”—she folds her hands under her chin—“the other day, she had her hair in this braid.” She asks for Remi’s phone and plays a video where Tacos is making a demonstration of how to make something with plastic bottles. Her hair is styled in a mermaid’s braid.
“You want the mermaid braid?”
“That’s what it’s called?”
“Yeah.”
Her eyes grow big. “I want the mermaid braid.”
“Then, we’ll do the mermaid braid.”
I ask the guys to bring me the hairbrush and hairbands I’ll be needing. I know I no longer have ten minutes, so I work fast. I braid her hair, loosen the strands, add some decorative pearls Remi brought me, and it’s done. She maneuvers her wheelchair and disappears from the living room.
“I need to learn how to do that,” Nicholas comments, finishing his apple.
“You want mermaid braids?”
“You never know. Might come in handy one day.” He shrugs and grabs Wylla’s backpack.
Wylla wheels herself out of the room. “I love it, Kaci. You need to teach my brothers these hairstyles. I don’t want to end up cutting my hair.”
“If we learn all of them, then Kaci will no longer come to visit,” Remi says, a smirk playing on his face.
Wylla stops her wheelchair and lands her gaze on me. “Don’t stop coming, Kaci. You’re my only friend who can scold Remi and Nicholas.”
“I’m not going to stop coming. Don’t you worry. Have fun.”
“I will,” she says, and Remi picks her up in his arms while Nicholas gathers the wheelchair. We descend the stairs, all the while Wylla’s face is hidden in the curve of Remi’s neck. She’s definitely scared of being dropped.
No one speaks on the way down. We get to the road just in time to see a white van with a “Cartwheel Angels” logo stop in front of the apartment. A few people come out to help Wylla and her wheelchair in the van. Wylla waves an enthusiastic goodbye, and the van disappears.
“I need to go too,” I say, turning toward Remi.
“I’ll drop you off,” Remi replies, taking the bike keys out of his pocket.
Nicholas steps toward me and dips his hands in his pockets. “Thanks for coming, Kaci. Wylla created quite a scene to have you come and braid her hair, but I’m glad you came.”
“I’m glad I did. And I got to scold you two. It felt good.”
We laugh. “I have some errands to run, so I need to rush,” Nicholas says once we sober up. I wave and give him a small smile as he walks back to the apartment.
When I turn around for Remi to drop me back, the man’s gaze is riveted on a certain part of my face. Squirming under his intense gaze, I cock my head to the side and wait. “Remi?”
“Huh?”
“You’re staring at my mouth.”
His bedroom eyes lift to mine. “I’m wondering why we haven’t kissed yet.”
The husky candor of his voice makes me suck a breath. My cheeks start heating up as my thoughts go back to my dream. “You can’t say things like this.” I bite my lower lip, feeling self-conscious.
He presses his thumb on my lower lip. “Then, you can’t do things like this, darling.” Freeing my lower lip, he brings his big, warm hand to my cheek, sweeping the hair behind my ear. My cheek adjusts itself on his palm, turning his eyes mahogany.
I’m in trouble.
#ThoseEyesThough
ELEVEN
#ConditionalLove
“Dammit.”
“What?”
My shoulders sag, and I turn toward Candee. “I forgot my phone at Remi’s place.” When I came back to the dorm, I went straight to my book because I was nearing the climax, and I was dying to know what happens, obviously. Then Candee and I started binge-watching “Prison Break” on her laptop, and now it’s seven in the evening, time to call Mom, and I’m just realizing that my phone is not with me. I’m such a disappointment to the millennials.
Candee’s eyes bulge, and she jumps to her feet. “Then let’s go and get it.” She curls her hand in the curve of my elbow and starts walking toward the door.
“You’re just excited to see Nicholas.”
“I am.”
There’s a knock on the door, and my lips twist. Candee’s shoulders slouch, and she gives me a side look. “Looks like we’re not going anywhere.”
I snicker, freeing my arms. I open the door to see Remi standing there with my phone in his hand. “I was just coming to fetch this.”
“Yeah, you left it on the table.” He hands me the phone. “Nicholas and I weren’t home. When we came back, we didn’t notice your phone was on the table until it started ringing.” With a sigh, he fixes me a worried look. “Your dad called.”
“Okay …”
“He called like ten times, so I picked up to tell him you forgot your phone at my place.”
Shit.
&n
bsp; “I would have come sooner, but since I was already heading this way because of classes, I thought I’d drop it off now.”
“No problem. I’ll speak to him. And thanks.” My hands grip the door tighter, freezing my smile in place.
He nods and pushes his hands inside his jeans pockets. “He was a little pissed. He asked a lot of questions, but I—” He pauses and clears his throat.
Double shit.
“I didn’t tell him anything. Just that you forgot your phone.”
I lift my shoulders, showing nonchalance, trying to play it cool when inside, I’m preparing for the storm. “Don’t worry. And thank you. I didn’t realize I’d forgotten it until a minute ago.”
He nods, and we stand in awkward silence. “See you?” His fingers move to his hair as he arches an eyebrow at me.
“See you.” I close the door.
“I’d say the seduction phase can be considered over, and you can now rebound the hell out of him.”
“Candee,” I say in exasperation, hanging my head low.
“He’s practically begging to be your rebound. I mean, he showed up everywhere you’ve been. You’re sad at the coffee shop, whom do you meet? Remi. You need shelter from the rain, who invites you to his place? Remi. You’re here all alone, and who’s giving you hot-and-bothered, hour-long stares? Remi.”
“Shut up.” When I turn around, Candee has her hands on her waist, her lips are pulled up in an annoying smirk, and both her eyebrows are arched, waiting for me to deny what she’d said. “Fine, he’s been helpful.”
“He could be a little more helpful. Just let him do a few naughty kinds of stuff to you.”
My thoughts go back to our almost kiss. How determined he was the other day when he said we are going to kiss, and today … I’ve enjoyed being turned on by him. I want this kiss to happen, and this time, I don’t want to step back.
“I’ll think about it.”
Huffs. “You’ll think about it? If you have it half as bad as I have it for Nicholas, then I bet he’s doing some naughty things to you in your dreams.” Her eyes narrow to slits. “Try and deny that?”
Darling, Dance with Me Page 6
