Page 74 of The Prodigal

“How’s48 Hourssound?”

“Like a snooze fest.”

I’m taking that as an excited yes.

“48 Hoursit is!”

About five minutes later, the king emerges dressed in—heaven help me—sweatpants and a form-fitting tee. “You planning on watching this shit all night?”

I meet his frown with a grin. “That’s exactly what I plan on doing all night, Mr. Crabby. But”—I sneak out a pack of mints from under my pillow—“if you’re a sweet boy, I’ll share thesenotexpired mints with you.”

“Where’d those come from?”

He throws his wet hair forward, splashing water everywhere, the cool water making me squeal as it hits my bare legs. “You would know if you had come into the diner.”

I swipe away the few drops of water as he rolls his eyes. “You asked me to stay in the car.”

I did—and he listened, which is a freaking miracle, but I don’t point that out. I’ll let him keep living in denial that he kind of likes me.

“Well, I figured it was time to replace the expired ones in my purse, considering how awful your breath was in the river.”

“My breath was bad?” he questions with an arrogant smirk, stalking forward like a predator.

I nod. “Worst kiss I’ve ever had.”

He hums and eyes the little shorts and tank top I’m wearing. My breath hitches as he plucks the mints from my hand and pops one between his lips. “Perhaps, I should kiss you somewhere else and see if I’m terrible there, too.”

I cock a brow, just like he’s done to me a million other times, and shrug, “Maybe when the show is over—it’s just getting good.”

Everyone needs a chase—especially Remington. Hunting is one of his favorite games. While I’d love for him to tell me I’m beautiful and love me with his mouth, I think it’s more fun to deny him.

“Okay, Eve.” He chuckles darkly. “I’ll play your game, but just know I’m a very sore loser.” I can read the threat and promise underneath it. I will pay for this defiance.

“I look forward to it, 101.”

I’m not scared—I’m thrilled.

“Are you gonna lie down or just stare at me all night?” I ask nonchalantly.

He grins, but it’s anything but sweet when he lies down beside me, keeping his hand on my thigh.

For the next hour, we watch TV side by side in comfortable silence until Remington’s hand slides off my leg, and I find him sleeping soundly, looking every bit like a beautiful fallen angel.

I’m not sure if I should wake him or let him be. I don’t know what the rules are about the closet, but just in case, I slip out of the bed and find the sheets in his bag. If, for some reason, he wakes up and I don’t hear him, I want to know he’s not sleeping on dirty carpet.

And I was right.

A few hours later, the bed shifts.

He doesn’t say anything when he stands or finds pillows and a blanket in the closet.

He simply stays silent as he lies down and opens his arms for me.

Remington

What the fuck am I doing?

Eden squeezes into the closet next to me, her body molding against mine.

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