Page 48 of Forever Never
Pondering this flaw, he nearly took a header into a picket fence when she grabbed his ass with both hands and squeezed. Hard.
“Remi, if you don’t behave yourself, I’m going to leave you in Sam Earl’s trash can.”
“No, you won’t,” she said, alternating squeezes. “You’re very muscular back here. And tense. I think you carry a lot of tension in this area. Have you ever had a massage?”
He was starting to sweat and he still had two blocks to go before he could lock her in her house and run like hell.
“Uh-oh,” she whispered.
“What?”
“I dropped your glove.”
On a sigh, he turned around and retrieved the glove from the snowy sidewalk.
“Put your hands in your pockets,” he told her.
“But then I can’t play butt bongos like this,” she said, smacking his ass in a rhythmless beat with both hands.
“Remi. Stop,” he said, feeling desperate.
“Butt bongo!” she sang, still slapping.
“Remi,” he growled.
But her musical assault on his ass continued. He was left with no other option. At least, that’s what he told himself as he slapped her on the ass. Hard.
She yelped, levering herself up until she was almost upright over his shoulder. The sting of his palm, the noise she made, both went straight to his groin.
“You spanked me!” she said in a hushed whisper.
“You gave me no choice. And keep it down or the whole island will be talking about me spanking you.” It was moments like this that had defined their relationship. Every once in a while, she snuck in under his defenses and made him reveal something he didn’t want to about himself. Like how much he wanted to do it again.
“That would be terrible. Because then they might realize that I kind of liked it.”
Dear God in heaven.
“You seem really broody right now. Do you want to go somewhere for a drink and talk about it? There’s this place called the Tiki Tavern—”
“We’re going home,” he growled.
“My home or your home?” she asked. “Because my temporary home doesn’t have any booze in it. It doesn’t have much of anything in it actually. I left kind of in a hurry.”
The cop in him wanted to jump on that opening. Why had she left in a hurry? Why was the fearless Remington Ford so damn jumpy? But he’d made a promise not to pry. At least for tonight.
“My head is spinning,” she announced. “I can’t tell which end is up.”
“Join the club,” he grumbled.
She was quiet again as he navigated his way across the snowy street past cozy bungalows, crafty Victorians, tidy fenced-in yards. A pristine coat of snow blanketed everything in sight. He still loved this place. It was his first real home. He’d chosen it over the freedom to go wherever he wanted, over his own marriage. Mackinac Island had his heart. And on quiet nights like this, when chimneys puffed white smoke into the inky night sky, he wondered how much of his heart belonged to the island and how much of it belonged to Remi.
“I missed it here,” she whispered from behind him. “No other place has ever really felt like home, you know?”
She’d always been able to read him with unnerving accuracy. “I know,” he said solemnly as Red Gate came into view. The lights blazed behind the windows, pushing back the night.
He tried the gate and found it locked. If she’d finally started taking all his security lectures seriously, something was definitely wrong. Carefully, he set her on her feet on the sidewalk. She stumbled and caught herself in the hedgerow. Grinning up at him, she wrapped her arms around his waist and held on tight.
“You’re a good hugger,” she murmured against his chest, seemingly unaware that his arms were at his sides.
