Page 91 of Fire Fight

“Drake!” Viliami yells like he’s only just noticed. “You’re looking overly close for a sibling. Maybe tone down the incest vibes for a night.”

I click my tongue in exasperation. “We’re not—”

But he’s gone, eyes focusing on a girl near the boat shed, swaying while she stares at her empty glass with disappointment. When I turn back to Drake, his eyes reflect the dancing fire in the pit, appearing hypnotised.

“Should we move inside to get the next photo?”

The question stirs him back to life. “Sounds good. Pick up a drink from the kitchen while you’re there.”

“Are you trying to get me drunk?”

His eyes gleam and he leans forward, whispering into my ear, “Now that’s an idea.” A shiver works its delicious path along my spine, leaving me giddy.

When we stand, I immediately see Gretchen’s left the platform and I scan our surrounds to see her walking in our direction. She hasn’t spotted us yet, greeting guests and stopping for small bursts of conversation. A perfect hostess working her party; the gossamer panels of her long dress fluttering in the breeze.

She looks just as beautiful as I knew she would when I first saw the design. I remember her snippet about no underwear and turn away, wanting to get out of her orbit. Worried if she sees us together, I’ll pay for it on Monday because as much as I don’t want to be at her party, it’s obvious she’s gone to a lot of trouble, and I doubt Drake’s announcement in the cafeteria put her off target.

We retreat a few metres into the reserve and Drake’s eyes sparkle as he bends his head to kiss me. “Let’s head deeper,” he says, voice becoming husky. “Over by that tree.”

I dutifully pick my way, focusing on where my feet are landing to the exclusion of everything else. The setting sun,which had still cast plenty of light back on the manicured lawn, can’t penetrate the lush foliage, the dimness of earlier plunging straight into darkness.

When my palm lands on the bark, I turn in triumph to see Drake has removed his tie, wrapping it around both hands like a garotte. My breath catches in my throat as he kisses me, pushing me against the tree with his body; rough bark behind me, palms flat against his sculpted chest.

“This is a far better use of our time, don’t you think?” he teases.

I nod, speechless, raising my hand to circle the back of his neck, playing with the soft hairs there. “If I ask you something, will you give me a truthful answer?”

He doesn’t even hesitate. “Of course. I never want to lie to you.”

“Did you arrange for Hudson’s tyres to be slashed?”

Drake runs his hands lightly along my sides, pretending to pat me down. “You’re not wearing a wire, are you?”

“No.”

“Yes. I organised some friends to help me.”

He waits for a few seconds, time enough for me to ask something more if I had more questions. “I’ll always tell you the truth,” he whispers when he understands I’ve finished. “If I do something that would make you ashamed of me or angry, that’s on me. I won’t lie and make things worse on top of that.”

“Thank you.”

I squeeze the back of his neck, trying to pull him down to kiss me, earning nothing more than a satisfied smile. “Someone’s needy.”

He takes both of my hands, moving them around the trunk of the tree behind me. His chest crushes against mine, coaxing a reaction from my pebbled nipples, breath playing havoc with the skin of my neck as he secures me with his tie.

Drake brushes my lower lip with his thumb, whites of his eyes gleaming in the low light. “Remember, these are my lips,” he whispers, pulling a sharpie from his inside pocket.

I feel the nib against the sensitive skin, making their mark. When he pulls back, I ask, “What are you writing?”

“My initials.” He appears inordinately pleased. “I’d prefer my entire name, but we’ll take it in baby steps.”

He presses a soft kiss to his markings, then turns his attention to my dress, tugging at the deep V of the wraparound until the knot on my hip loosens, allowing it to gape. Flipping down my bra cups to expose me to his intense gaze. “And these.”

This time, he writes his entire name around my areola, the pressure drawing forth a whimper of need.

“Shh. We’ve got time,” he murmurs, repeating the design on the opposite side, his voice reverberating through me like the bass notes shaking the nearby speakers. As he finishes, his mouth covers the fresh ink, sucking at me until the need rises in my body, making my knees tremble, sagging back against the tree. “Just one more signature.”

He pushes my knees apart, dropping to a crouch that places his mouth level with my pussy, the heated breaths making me hum in anticipation as his head slips under my dress.

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