Page 36 of Calling Quarters

He left my mind in such a jumbled mess, I couldn't control my own actions.

I felt like putty in his large, capable hands. All I wanted him to do was gently caress me. To sculpt me into whatever he wanted so long as his skin never left mine and the buzzing between us never ended.

A soft, mortifying moan escaped my lips and he paused, glaring down at me. I wanted to scream. I hated myself for allowing my body to react in such an embarrassing way. That I craved the touch of my enemy so deeply, even my bones ached for it.

“I've never done this,” I admitted through a bated breath.

After a few weighted seconds where I contemplated throwing every ounce of pride I had out the window and begging him to torture me just a little while longer, his hands moved to the top of the blanket and pulled it down, exposing my naked body to the cool, ocean air.

I resisted the urge to fold my arms over my chest and cover myself up. I'm not sure what possessed me to sit still under his gaze and allow those deep, deadly eyes to slowly drink my imperfect body in.

My admission still hung in the air between us as he slowly considered me. A soft nagging in my mind told me I should still be embarrassed, but I refused to give it life.

It was almost as if the knowledge that he was so dangerous brought out this side of me that wanted to test him. To see how far we could take this before someone got hurt.

My arm slid across the velvet sheets until my nails scraped against his jeans. I tugged at the material, bravely asking him to expose himself to me the same way. To make this horrible mistake into a mutual decision.

With a low rumble in his throat, he leaned into me and cupped his hand on my jaw, his face hovering just above mine. I could feel his breath on my lips and couldn't stand the teasing anymore. When he didn't make a move, I opened my mouth the slightest bit and leaned forward into the space left between us. Then, throwing all caution to the wind, I sucked his bottom lip between mine and bit down.

That was all the permission he needed. In a frenzy of rushed movements, he managed to hop into the bed and place his body between my naked thighs, rubbing himself against my damp center with the rough denim material of his jeans. I could feel every hard part of him as it pressed into me.

I watched him through my lashes and was somehow met with an even deeper, darker black than usual. His gaze burned into me like molten lava pouring onto my skin, and I welcomed the pain it incited. Featherlight kisses trailed my cheek and neck as he slowly tortured me—playing with my patience as if it were something to be tested.

When he journeyed back to my mouth, he nibbled at my swollen lip the way I had done to his before, then he replaced the playful nipping with a slow, tentative kiss. We took our time finding the perfect fit while he allowed my hands to explore the taut, toned muscles of his torso beneath his thin cotton shirt.

His arms were braced above my head, holding the top half of his body up so that he didn't crush me. When he shifted a little to reach his tongue deeper into my mouth, his stiffened manhood pressed harder against me, and another moan left my lips. I could feel his smile against my mouth just before he thrust himself against me once more, nearly sending my head spinning into the next galaxy with the simplest movement.

Without warning, he shifted onto one arm and snaked the other between us. I felt his fingers against my slick slit and jumped, sending them just a little farther into me. He chuckled against my mouth, then pressed one finger into the perfect spot. That was all it took. I couldn't stop myself from unraveling beneath him as he rubbed and caressed me in ways no man had ever attempted before. All the while his warm mouth stayed connected with mine, intensifying the stimulation.

It was embarrassingly quick, but shame had no place in our tiny bubble. I waited for the negative feelings to come crashing into my chest, reminding me what a mistake this was.

They never did.

Once I was thoroughly satiated, Remy rolled over and settled into the spot beside me. We simply stared into each other's eyes—me completely naked and him fully clothed and soaked in my juices—exchanging the secrets we knew our mouths could never share.

“They're going to pay for what they've done,” he promised.

I didn't have it in me to discourage him. The earnest expression he wore told me there was no way I'd be able to stop him anyway.

Chapter 21

Storie

When I arrived back at the hotel, I stopped by the office to tell Blaire and Tabitha that I was still alive and to check in with them. As soon as she saw me, Blaire jumped out of the office chair and wrapped her arms around my neck in a tight hug. My hands awkwardly patted her back until she pulled away with her hands still gripping my shoulders. Her expression turned horrified when she scanned my bloodstained clothes and matted hair.

“Where have you been?”

“It’s a long story.”

“Well, I’ve got time. Have a seat.” She pulled one of the chairs lined against the wall up to the desk and took a seat on the opposite side.

After what happened to me in the past two days, I wasn’t sure if I could trust anyone in Beacon Grove anymore. Not that Julia had ever proved to be a person I was interested in befriending, but she and her friends appeared to be harmless and my miscalculation about them nearly cost me my life. I wanted to trust Blaire, though. I wanted to share what happened with someone who wasn’t involved in any way. Eventually, that won out over every hesitation I had.

“Julia and her friends,” I said on a sigh when I fell into the chair.

“What did they do? You look like you’ve crawled out of a grave.” I shot her a sarcastic scowl and she laughed, shrugging her shoulders unapologetically.

I peered out of the windows of the office and dropped my voice in case we were overheard. “It was really weird. They threw me into a van and took me to the Wilde’s beach. All of them seemed to be on some kind of drug. They were acting pretty out of it, especially Julia. She was saying things about the Wildes and the Rists always being connected and that it was supposed to be her.” Blaire scrunched her nose and tilted her head, equally confused by that as I was. “Then, I saw an opportunity to run and the big one hit me over the head.”

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