She sounded stronger at least, but of course it was because she was fighting him.
“You didn’t call, but I came anyway. That’s the way this works. You will always be my problem.”
For some goddamn ridiculous female reason, his answer had her relaxing against him. He could spend a lifetime studying Remi and knew she still wouldn’t make any damn sense to him. But he had bigger problems to deal with now. With her new relaxed position, his thumb wasn’t just brushing her breast, it was pinned under it.
“You couldn’t throw on a bra and put your inhaler in your coat, could you?” he muttered.
He winced when she shifted against him. She had to feel how fucking hard he was for her with his cock wedged up against her ass like that. Every rock of the saddle was a new level of hell for him.
“No one told you to put your damn hand up my shirt,” she reminded him. She sounded better, brighter, perkier.
“I don’t hear you asking me to remove it,” he shot back.
“I didn’t ask you to remove your hard-on from my ass either. I’m too polite.”
“Jesus, Remi.”
But when he made a move to drag his hand away, she held it in place. “Don’t,” she whispered.
“Why not?” he asked through gritted teeth.
“It makes me feel safe. Okay?”
They were literally the only words that could have kept his hand where it lay, and she goddamn knew it.
She gave his hand a little squeeze through her shirt before dropping it.
On an icy breath, he tested them both. Brick slipped his palm a little higher until his thumb and index finger cupped the underside of her breast.
When he began to rub tiny, gentle strokes into that soft, warm flesh, she melted against him and let out a little sigh.
“This doesn’t change anything,” she said suddenly.
“No. It doesn’t,” he agreed. But it did mean he was going to savor these minutes, these touches. Because this was as far as it would ever go.
24
The nerve of the man she hadn’t called to come bail her out of a mess. Remi tried to ignore him. And his big, warm hand. And the feel of his hard thighs beneath her. No easy feat as the sway of the horse reminded her with every step.
She was hot and cold. Overwhelmed. Confused. Irritated. Irrationally turned on. And recovering from an attack. It was a festering stew of a mess.
He steered his hulking horse onto Lake View Drive, and Remi refused to dwell on how romantic this would be if they were anyone else but the two of them.
She’d given him his chance. Millions of them. And he’d turned his back on every single one of them. Just because it felt damn good to have that big, rough palm under her shirt was not a reason to thaw. He’d made his choice, and getting himself worked up worrying about her wasn’t going to sway her.
Ugh. It still felt really good. Really, really good.
She shifted against him, unable to help it. And when she did, the hard-on pressed against her ass responded with a jerk.
The school appeared on their left. A small, cozy brick building where she’d spent her formative years. Learning that people were different. That not everyone thought the letter L was orange.
All these years later, she didn’t feel that much different from the energetic little girl who dreamed of bigger things.
Red Gate came into view as they rounded the bend, and Remi sighed with relief. She didn’t know how much longer she could stand being held by Brick without either slapping him in the face or ripping her own pants off and shouting, “Take me, you fool.” Cleetus was a sturdy mount, but she doubted he’d be okay with them fucking on him.
When they got to the gate, Brick slid his hand out from under her shirt, his fingers blazing trails along her stomach. Like little tracks of fire.
Wordlessly, he dismounted and, before she could do the same, he plucked her off the horse and set her down.
Tired and mad, Remi opened the gate and let it slam behind her, hoping he’d just go away rather than see the whole doctor appointment thing through.
She unlocked the front door and let herself inside. The snow was falling onto the frozen crust of the lake beyond her wall of windows. Inside it was cozy and warm. She just wanted to curl up on the couch and sleep for a week.
Attacks always left her exhausted. But she couldn’t let Brick see that.
She found her purse, a patchwork leather in shades of greens, next to the dining table. Rifling through turned up nothing resembling her inhaler.
“Where the hell is it?” she muttered to herself.
She moved on to her toiletry bag in the bathroom and was pawing through it when she heard the front door open and close, the boots on the hardwood.
“Damn it,” she muttered.
No inhaler there.
Ignoring the looming, frowning cop in her living room who was staring at her with his arms crossed, she went into the bedroom and dragged her suitcases out of the closet and began going through the zippered pockets.
“Find it?”
Brick’s voice came from the doorway behind her.
Remi ignored him and opened the nightstand drawer. Shit. Where the hell was it?
She put her hands on her head and paced in front of the tiny closet, trying to pinpoint the last time she remembered having it. She always carried it to yoga class after her instructor had told her she was a “boner head” for not keeping it with her. She’d gotten in the habit of stashing it in whatever purse she was carrying.
She paused, mid-step.
The headlights in the mirrors. The hard jerk forward and the snap back.
“Fuck,” she whispered.
“What is it?” Brick asked grimly.
“I…I think I lost my inhaler in the accident.”
“You haven’t had one since you broke your arm?”
It was such a blur. The ride home. The pressure in her chest. The hospital afterward.
Remi swiped a hand over her face, trying to push the images away. Trying to focus on the present.
“I guess so,” she admitted.
It was irresponsible. Especially given the fact that she’d ended up in the emergency department with an asthma attack while her friend fought for her life in the ICU. That’s when the attending doctor had realized her arm was broken.
Her only thought after that was to get out of town. To go where no one could find her.
“That’s unacceptable, Remington,” Brick said. He’d stepped into the room, crowding her against the bed. She could feel the heat pumping off him at her back. His aura was probably a roiling mess of frustration and anger.
She couldn’t exactly blame him.
“Do you at least have your daily meds?” he asked.
“I ran out two days ago,” she said in a small voice. She crossed her arms over her chest and hunched her shoulders against the judgment she was sure he was going to deliver.
Instead, she heard him sigh. Felt the heat of his breath on her neck.
“Come on then. Change out of your wet clothes, and let’s get it taken care of,” he said.
She turned to look at him. “What? No lecture?”
“I think you’ve been through enough for one day. I’ll lecture you tomorrow or the next day when I’m not so pissed off.”
She wasn’t going to say “thank you.” Because she didn’t want him to think he was forgiven for any of his other transgressions. Instead, she gave him a tight nod and skirted around him. “Fine,” she said.