Remy(16)

Scowling thoughtfully, she keeps glancing at my chest. “How do you feel?” she asks, studying me with a keen, doctorly look I used to get at the Institute.

“I feel like running.” I peer into her gaze and dare her to deny that she wants to be alone with me too. “Do you?”

I count up to eight heartbeats, and she still hesitates, driving me insane, until she finally nods. “Let me grab my sneakers and put on my brace.”

I nod, and my mouth waters as she walks out of the kitchen to go change. God, this girl is going to be the death of me.

We run along a well-lit dirt trail that’s scattered with trees. As soon as we start, I pull my hood over my head to keep it warm and pump my fists in the air to keep the blood in my muscles rather than where it goes to when she’s around. The air is cool. She wears running shorts and a top that hugs her curves, and in my peripherals I see her breasts bouncing, her butt firm as her long legs take those sprinter strides.

Drives me fucking crazy.

“So what happened to Pete and Riley?” she asks.

“Out looking for whores.”

Her eyebrows go up as I keep punching into the air. “For you?”

“Maybe. Who cares.”

Her ponytail bounces and swishes side to side, and I like it. I like the way she measures her stride to mine, how our feet hit the dirt at the same time.

We pass a couple of other runners on the trail, but we keep going. Brooke is fit and fast. I’ve never had a training buddy, but I swear I could get used to this. To running with her.

We covered four fast miles easily before she stops and sets her hands on her knees and waves me forward. “Go on, I’m just gonna catch my breath, I’m getting a cramp.”

I search into my hoodie’s front pocket and pass her an electrolyte pack, then I bounce in place to stay warm and thrust my fists alternately in the air as her marshmallow lips part and she slides the pack over her tongue.

Fuck.

Me.

Standing.

All my blood rushes to my groin.

I’ve seemed to stop bouncing.

I don’t believe I’m even breathing.

Fuck me, she’s tonguing that packet right in front of me, and I’ll be damned if I don’t just stand here and watch like a dickhead. “Any left?” I ask.

She hands it over. I can’t help but notice she watches me as intently as I just did her as I push it into my mouth. This is what I want to do to you, I think as I look at her. This is what I want to do to your tongue, Brooke.

Sucking the remaining gel out of the packet, my body tightens when her taste slides through me. The packet has never before tasted like this. Sweet, but sweeter. It’s so fucking warm, and I’m so turned on, I suck every last drop as I look at her. Her lashes are lighter at the tips, and they sweep upward as she forces her gaze from my lips, to my eyes. Eyes that I’m fucking swallowing her with.

God, I want you. I want you now. I want you tomorrow. I want you the instant you’re fucking ready for me.

“Are they right? What Pete said? Are you doing it on purpose?”

She holds my stare with curious intent, and I’m trying to get my head straight, still rubbing my tongue on the packet. I’ve never waited so long to claim something I want, and I’ve never wanted anything like this. It’s driving me insane and crazy. Her breasts look perfect in her running gear. Her ass. Her legs. She’s delicious and I’m hungry. I am so fucking hungry for her.

“Remy, sometimes you break something and you never get it back. You never get it back.” Her voice falters, and she glances at the street and passing cars for a moment.

And just like that the lightness of tasting her is gone and my chest feels heavy. The YouTube video plays in my head and the instinct to protect her from everything they said and everything they called her only frustrates me because I can’t do shit.

“I’m sorry about your knee.” I’m not good with words, but as I slam-dunk the packet into the nearest trash can, I wish I were. I wish I could tell her how I feel thinking about her crying and helpless. I’m going to fucking protect her from now on if it’s the last thing I do on this planet.

“It’s not about my knee,” she counters. “It’s about you not taking your body for granted. Don’t ever let anyone hurt you, don’t ever allow it, Remy.”

I shake my head to appease her but scowl when I think of not ever getting hit again. She will never understand how much I crave her to touch me. Not only sexually. Her touch does crazy shit to me. I’m sick for it. I’m . . . sick.

Fuck me. She’s so beautiful and I’m so broken.

“I’m not, Brooke,” I gruffly tell her. “I just let them get close enough I can fuck them over. Little sacrifices in search of the win. It gives them confidence to get a couple of punches in, then it starts getting to their head, that I’m easy—that I’m not like they’ve heard I am—and when they get drunk on how easy they’re pounding Remington Tate, I go in.”