Page 77 of Broken Pact

He playfully growls into my neck, dragging the blunt edges of his teeth across my skin. “Looks like I won. What’s my prize?”

I huff a laugh, still squirming. “What do you want?”

He turns me around in his arms, walking us back toward the platform. “Didn’t I tell you? I only play for keeps.”

And then he kisses me.

37

JASPER

The moment my lips touch hers, everything else fades away. The gentle lapping of the water against the platform, the distant birdsong, the warm sun on my skin—it all disappears.

There is only Coraline.

Her lips are soft and pliant beneath mine, parting on a breathy gasp. I take the invitation, deepening the kiss as I pull her impossibly closer. She tastes like summer sunshine and sweet temptation, an intoxicating combination that sets my blood on fire.

Her fingers thread through my hair, tugging gently as she matches my energy. I groan into her mouth, the sound swallowed by our kisses. My hands map the curves of her body, trailing along her spine, over the swell of her hips, committing every dip and valley to memory.

She arches into me, those tits I’ve dreamed about pressing against my chest, taunting me. Her arms wind around my neck as she kisses me back. The heat between us builds with every slide of our tongues, every nip of teeth against lips. I drink her in like a man dying of thirst, lost to everything but the feel of her in my arms.

She pulls away, but I let her because she returned my kiss with fucking fervor. And that’s not a word I think often. But there’s no other way to describe the way that woman throws her whole goddamn soul into every kiss.

Jealousy eats me from inside, a black, festering wound on my heart. The very idea that this is simply how she kisses anyone is unacceptable. Nah, this is something she reserves just for me.

She heads toward the swim platform, climbing the short ladder until she’s standing in the middle. She grins at me, this joyful, almost shy sort of smile. Coraline Carter shy? The idea is enough of a motivator as any, and I follow her to the platform.

I snag a couple of bottles of water from the cooler I packed earlier and toss her one. She catches it against her chest, the fabric of my tee pulling a little to the right. Giving me a glimpse of the side of her breast. My mouth waters as my gaze gobbles up the sight of that curve.

I’m half-convinced she’s made of magic or witchcraft or something. There’s no logical explanation for the way every thing about this woman turns me on.

She sits on the edge of the platform, her feet dangling in the lake. With a flick of her wrist, she twists off the cap and takes a long sip of water.

I watch, mesmerized by the way her throat works as she swallows.

She closes her water bottle and tosses it into the cooler before slipping back into the lake. “Jasper,” she hedges. “There’s something I wanted to tell you. About last night.”

I abandon the platform with my heart in my throat. There could be a handful of different things she wants to tell me. I swim toward her, giving her a couple of feet of space. “We can talk about anything, baby.”

“Perfect. Let’s talk about how you fell asleep cuddled to my foot like it was some kind of stuffed animal. Is this the part where you tell me you have a foot fetish?” She smirks at me, her lips just above the surface of the water. Her arms move in smooth, controlled strokes, keeping her body afloat in the clear blue water.

That is absolutely not what I thought she was going to say. My head tips back, a bark of laughter catching me by surprise.

“So you’re aware then?” she asks, looking down her nose at me. All sass, all the fucking time.

“Don’t be a brat.”

She feigns offense, her head tilting back and her hand pressing against her chest. “Me? I would never. But back to the foot fetish.”

I roll my eyes, annoyed that I have to break her teasing up with something serious. If I don’t get some answers soon, I think I might have a fucking breakdown or something. My mind has been working in overdrive ever since she came to me last night, and in double-time since I saw that fucking video.

Fuck it. Let’s just rip the band-aid off.

“Nah, baby. I want to talk about what happened last night.”

Her smile falls from her face so fast, I think I could’ve blinked and missed it. She starts to swim back toward the floating platform like that’s going to save her from these questions. “I don’t want to talk about that, Jagger.”

I’m behind her in an instant, crowding her against the edge of the platform close enough that she can’t get up on it. “Jasper,” I growl into the crook of her neck from behind. “You call me Jasper.”

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