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Queeny nods and focuses on my mouth like she’s under hypnosis. Her lips are stained red from her gloss, and they look so soft. So ripe. So fucking juicy.
“I drannnk apple marinis all night.”
“Marinis, huh?” A low chuckle rumbles in my chest.
“Yep. And I coulnt help but wonner if you’d taste the sssame.” Her lids drop to half-mast. “I bet you’re sssweet and tart, and ssso fugging egi—” Hiccup. “Edble-ible.”
Her pink tongue dips out, calling my name and putting pressure on my resolve. I swear the damn thing is saying, Pssst, Remi. Don’t you want a taste? Just a little one is okay.
“Why don’t you find out?” I’m so fucking close to licking those lips that mine part in anticipation. I’m going to kiss her like she’s never been kissed before. So fully she’ll know exactly how much I feel for her.
My chest aches with the profound emotion I’m trying to restrain. She’s everything amazing, beautiful, and right in the world. The fucking center of my universe.
But she has to make the first move. She’s made her boundary clear—if she wants to breach it, that’s on her. I’ll happily oblige.
Queeny’s chin raises, asking me to take the bait. The wait is pure agony, but she goes for it, brushing her bottom lip against mine.
Oh God, so fucking good. The hairs on my arms raise, pointing straight to her. Inside, I’m dying of suffocation, my ribs tightening around my lungs, and my stomach swoops. Every nerve ending in my body is celebrating. An exhilarating buzz zips down my spine to my groin.
I’m about to go in for more, when she jerks back with wide eyes and runs upstairs.
Well, I’ve never had a woman run from me before. Stunned, my eyes blink rapid fire. What the fuck just happened? One minute we were hot, but in a split second she went cold on me. I can’t believe one small kiss has her so spooked.
Raking my fingers through my hair, I contemplate how to fix this. That’s when I hear it—violent retching.
“Shit.” I run after her and find her in the spare bathroom on her hands and knees, head hovering over the toilet bowl. “Oh, baby.” I wince, holding back her hair. “I got you.”
She’s going to have one hell of a hangover tomorrow. So will my heart.
Mae
Agony, stab, throb. My pounding head rudely wakes me before my alarm does.
“For the love of God.”
Pinching the bridge of my nose, I scrape my tongue across the back of my front teeth. My mouth tastes like sour milk and goat farts. Gross. Hoisting myself up into a sitting position, I realize I’m still in my dress from last night. What in the world?
My ears strain to hear anything coming from the baby monitor, but it’s off. However, sticking to the top of the device is a note with Remi’s neat script.
Relax. I’ll take care of Isabel.
By the time I shower and dress, my head feels a bit better but my stomach is roiling in sour emptiness. It’s amazing how fast I got used to being fed every morning. Before Remi, I sometimes didn’t eat until lunch. I brush my teeth a second time before heading downstairs, finding Remi holding Isabel as he’s stirring something on the stove.
“Good morning.” I pull my daughter from Remi’s arms and give her a snuggle.
“Mommy,” she squeals.
Remi looks at us with a devastating smile. “Morning, Queeny.” He points to his cheek, leaning toward me.
When I get close, I smell his warm scent and wish it was me he was holding. He’s such a greedy flirt, but I’m happy to oblige.
Remi side-eyes me, gauging my hangover status, no doubt. “You doin’ okay?”
“Peachy.” Walking over to Isabel’s high chair, I set her in it and pull her closer to the table, next to me.
“Stawbaby?” Isabel asks.
I boop her nose before heading to the fridge to find her some strawberries. She loves her fruit. Cutting it up, I place it on her tray and sit to watch her eat.
