Chapter 13
13
FOSTER
“No one touches, Remi.” I kick off the wall and cross through the entry of the stripped house.
Felix goes maniacal with his laugh, throwing his head back and losing his cowboy hat. “Oh, come on. The way her eyes bulged was hilarious.”
I walk to the winding staircase but don’t respond. I can’t without lying. It was funny. Then a blush spread over her cheeks—fuck, it brought on an onslaught of memories. Most of them about where else she’s prettily pink. I need to stop before I’m roaming around with my dick hard. It’s already been a challenge with her dressed in basically her old school uniform. The amount of times I jerked off to her in a plaid skirt borders on alarming.
“You know we wouldn’t really fuck her,” Dev says, equally amused. “Unless she begged, of course.”
“Not even if she hits her knees for you.”
I sweep my palm over the dusty banister to expose the designs etched into the wood before climbing the stairs. The dick and fake hick start their hunt with a yeehaw, and when I look, Colt’s watching me, arms crossed. I flip him off for whatever he’s thinking. His thoughts often earn him the finger, so I’m hedging my bets.
The shadows swallow me on the landing. The lights are off everywhere but the entry, and from what I’ve seen, a lot of busted bulbs are exposed. I consider going to the third floor, but a faint scuff of shoes above decides for me.
Even halfway to drunk, I have no desire to play Felix and Dev’s game tonight. Colt needs to so he’s less whiny. Here’s to him finding the pair that scampered up here.
I break out the flashlight on my phone once the downstairs light runs out. The hallway’s narrow given the monstrosity of a house. Far from a dump, even if it shows signs of neglect. The place deserves better than an excavator and condos erected on its grave. A lot of shit does, though.
Partway down, I catch movement inside a room without a door and pause. The brunette firefighter in a shiny skirt smiles as she steps out from behind an armoire, likely left because of its size. She tucks her hands behind her, bouncing on the balls of her feet.
“God, I suck at hiding.” She laughs, aiming for self-deprecating, I’m guessing, but expectation flares in her eyes and smile. Like a sign blinks above me—step right up to fuck the rock star.
“Try harder.” I stroll away and push through the door at the end of the hall before she thinks I mean try harder with me .
The hinges shockingly stay quiet, both opening and closing. I spin to shine the light around the bathroom. Dirty and cracked tile lines the bottom half of the dirtier walls, a pink toilet matches the mounted sink.
My attention snags on the sliding glass panels of the also pink tub. One closed and the other slid open. Considering my options, I weigh the grime-to-unwanted-attention ratio, and then I step over the side. Once I drop in, I wrench the glass door toward me. It grinds to a halt with a few inches to go. I sigh and let my head rest on the wall behind me, tapping off the flashlight.
Everything falls silent. No road noise or demands or the voice warning every second’s fleeting. All the things I haven’t been able to escape for months cease to exist. The only sound is my breath. I can’t remember the last time I heard myself breathing. Something so simple. I missed it.
Slowly, snippets from the world find their way into my porcelain cocoon. Footsteps creak the floorboards above, a high-pitched squeal. Easy to ignore until the bathroom door eases open. I smother a groan, not in the mood to be rejecting these chicks all night. I want a few minutes of Foster before giving everyone Adams again.
But when I roll my head to the side, my face illuminates at the same time I see Remi’s. She’s so goddamn gorgeous, her hair in a clip, strands framing her face. She must not notice me in her rush for the tub, forcing the opposite glass door down the track. My lips twitch even before she freezes and jerks her head in my direction.
“Shit,” she exhales.
Her attention switches to the door and the heavy footfalls coming down the corridor. I stay with my head tipped back and watch her struggle over the choice presented.
I’m an asshole for enjoying the panicked glances between me and the unknown. I’m fucking hopeless for my smile when she crawls into the tub in her chunky black boots.
I move a leg, bringing up my knee more to shift my own boot. She lowers beside the other. Metal scrapes metal as she drags the door into place, and she winces at the harsh noise. The glass on that one has more scratches. It’s hazy and nearly opaque.
She kills the light a few seconds ahead of the door swinging inward.
Colt halts, staring at the broken mirror above the sink, then he rotates with his own phone’s flashlight and blinds me.
“I have so many jokes about you being washed up,” he says.
Remi’s sunk down at the other end, trying to hide. I wonder if she realizes she’s latched onto my leg. Resisting the urge to look at her, I nod at Colt.
“Can I top?” I ask him. “That was the point, right? Find me and fuck me?”
He snorts and shoulders the door shut. “Even if I bottomed, I’d still top you from down there.”
My buddy saunters to the toilet and unzips. The grip tightens on my shin as his stream hits the dry bowl, and I lick my lips to suppress a smile. She has her eyes scrunched closed, knees tucked to the side in her attempts to blend into the shadows.
Once finished, Colt starts to reach for the handle before thinking it through. No water. Instead, he considerately closes the lid. While rotating for the door, his light sweeps over the glass, but he catches the doorknob, not mentioning the hunched form across from me.
Then he looks over. “Enjoy your bath, motherfucker.”
He zeros in on Remi’s exact location, a smirk forming on his way out. The latch clicks and plunges the room to black. The near silence returns, only this time with two sets of breaths.
Remi sighs, relaxing her grip even though the hand stays. I pick up my phone to turn on the light, and my eyes land on hers.
“Come here often?”
She fights a smile. “I visit when I can.”
Returning my phone to the ledge, I set it so the light shines at the ceiling. Shadows cast sharp and harsh around us, only parts of her fully illuminated. A certain part gains my attention. My eyes lower as she readjusts her skirt to better cover her ass. Failing miserably. A pleading look comes my way, so I bend my other knee more, letting both fall open to rest on the sides of the tub. It allows her to find an angle that almost ruins my view, her legs folding before she gives up.
“I’ve seen a lot more of you than this,” I remind her.
Her cheeks pink again, and she avoids my gaze.
“Why are you hiding, anyway?” She sets her camera between my legs in front of hers, and I pick it right up. My turn to avoid. I am hiding. Colt’s jab about my celibacy streak holds more truth than I care to admit to myself, let alone her. She infiltrated before, and here I am again—knowing the damage she causes, yet I still can’t stop .
I run my fingers over the matte black finish of her camera’s body and down the navy shoulder strap she rarely uses.
“I can leave,” she says when I don’t answer her. “They’ve probably found the others by now. So, if you want to be alone—” She cuts off when I power on her camera, and I smirk at the apprehension creeping into her eyes. “What are you doing?”
I shrug a shoulder. “Fucking up your settings.”
She lunges, and I jerk it out of her reach.
“Nope. Mine.”
On a huff, she returns to her side of the tub, settled farther back on the porcelain, and the soles of her boots press against my ankle. I watch her through the viewfinder, studying all of her through the screen. Like in the dark, it transforms her into my Remi. Remi Saint. The broken girl who wrecked my world in the best way possible. Or it’s the alcohol.
She crosses her arms, quite the glare aimed at me. Again, she asks, “What are you doing?”
I zoom in on her face, and her eyes shift from me to the lens’ movement. “Observing my subject in a foreign habitat.”
“You’re a filmmaker now?” She cocks her head.
“Documentarian,” I correct. “Up-and-coming. Turns out, there’s no money in music.”
She finally smiles all the way, shaking her head when she bites down on her lower lip. I move the camera over her, still zoomed to only show me the pieces. Auburn locks and a heated cheek. A mossy iris framed by fluttering lashes. Slender neck, partially in shadow.
The top two buttons of her shirt are open. I pause on her collarbone and flick my gaze over the top of the camera to hers. Her chest rises in a deep breath before she glances away.
“We need to do your interview still,” she says.
As if a mention of work matters at all. Not when I’m still buzzed with her right in front of me.
I slowly roll my head side to side on the tiles in a headshake, and I tsk her. “I’m the one with the camera, which means we need to do your interview.”
“Foster,” she warns.
“Remi.”
“You’re not even recording.”
I pan farther down, over her arm covering her middle. I pause where the plaid ends and skin begins on her outer thigh. The little red light blinks on that indicates I’m rolling, and her pouty mouth pops open. I hit stop and raise a brow in challenge. It earns me another glare, but then she sinks against the porcelain, adding her knees to the parts of her touching me.
“So, who are you hiding from?” I ask.
She hesitates, brows slanting. “What do you mean?”
I half-smile at the three seconds it took her to turn a question on me. “You ran in here to hide, right?”
“Wasn’t that the game? Hide and Keep?” Her head tilts on another question before she finally uses a period. “I know they’re messing with me about the sex part. I’ve been around long enough to know they like their women enthusiastic . But I wouldn’t put it past Felix to keep me on the backhoe while he drives it directly into a police station or something.”
Of course they were fucking with her—they would never cross those lines whether I said anything or not. She’s not wrong about the last part, though. If he finds keys, the night will end with Felix driving the equipment. He’ll go from back shot to backhoe.
“So, you’re hiding from Felix?”
“All of them,” she says like it’s obvious.
“But not me?” I watch her through the screen as she stares through it to me. “You said all of them and not all of you.”
A flush creeps up her cheeks, barely visible with the camera but there. She messes with the laces on her boot. “What about you? You never told me who you’re hiding from.”
“All of them,” I say.
She glances up at the repeat of her phrasing. A silent but not me ? floats between us until I sigh and redirect like a champ.
“You’re terrible at giving interviews. I’ll hook you up with my publicist.”
She snorts. “Great. They can teach me how to avoid them.” After a not-so-subtle dig at me, she quits screwing with the shoestring, and her hand lands on my foot. “My talent lies in conducting interviews, which you wouldn’t know.” She’s on a roll, and my lips twitch. “I’m not used to being on this side of the lens.”
“Anymore.”
Our eyes meet, and she softly echoes, “Anymore.”
My free hand’s close enough I skim my knuckles over her black knee-high above one boot. “You’re just out of practice.” The arm covering her middle falls to her side—her other hand landing on my other shoe. So, I flip my palm and let mine settle the same way. “With the right direction, I’m sure it’ll come back to you.”
She smiles and looks away, but like every other time, those hypnotic orbs return to me. “Direct me then.”
Fuck, her raspy voice has no right to sound so sexy.
I drag my teeth over my bottom lip, switching to the viewfinder. “For starters, you need to relax.”
“I am relaxed,” she defends, but the tension remains in her shoulders and forehead.
“So relaxed.” I adjust the lens to see more of her. “I think we can do better. Take down your hair.”
After studying me for a second, Remi reaches up. My fingers flex around her leg as she removes the clip. Her dark red hair spills over her shoulders, the clip clattering into the soap tray screwed to the wall. She sets her phone down on the ledge by mine and repositions. Her lower body shifts even closer to me, her upper stretching out and reclining. Then she rests her head on the tiled wall behind her in a mirror to mine, the black ends of her hair splaying over her white shirt around the two open buttons.
Without thinking, I lean forward and tuck a lock behind her ear. Her chest stalls when I touch her. As I sit back, my hand returns to her leg but higher. My thumb sweeps back and forth over the material. But I want her skin.
I want what I could only watch back then.
Remi licks her lips. “What are you thinking about?”
“I’m remembering how hot you look when you come,” I tell her.
Her lashes flutter as she swallows. “Oh.”
One side of my mouth lifts at what sounded more squeak than word. “Yeah, but…” I slide my foot closest to the doors forward, so she has to move her arm. Touch me or touch herself. She chooses me, resting it on my leg. “You were wearing a lot less clothes then.”
I don’t specify which time I’m talking about—I don’t need to.
“Not at first,” she says, and I look up.
“You were once I got you to strip out of your slutty fairy outfit.”
We stare at each other, memories silently traded back and forth while her fingers grip my jeans. Mine slip between her knees for the warm skin I wanted. It only makes me crave more.
Remi must too because she follows my thoughts without me needing to lead. “So then, what do you want from me, director?”
The words go straight to my cock, and I lower my eyes to the viewfinder. “You know what I want, Remi.”
She was standing in front of a full-length mirror before, face partially obscured with swirls of black and teal and silver. She’s right in front of me now, all the pieces together.
“ Let me see ,” I said before. Now I tell her, “Show me.”
The hold on my jeans vanishes. Those same fingers start where her shirt tucks into her skirt. They ascend, button by button. My attention bounces between them and her teeth denting her bottom lip. Once she reaches the top, though, her other hand joins, and they gain my entire focus. She pops the third button while her thumb glides across her collarbone and dips beneath the fabric.
A fucking tease from when I couldn’t touch her. She’d do the same damn thing when I could only watch.
As she works her way down, someone screeches from elsewhere in the house. Neither of us cares. My porcelain cocoon has become ours, the rest of the world separate from us. We’re not even on the same timeline anymore.
Remi reaches the last button before her skirt. She doesn’t untuck the shirt, letting the front create a V on her hand’s slow drag back up. More and more smooth skin and then the swell of her breasts.
By the time the rest of the fabric falls open, her chest’s rising faster. Pouty lips part as she tries to regulate her breathing. I’m struggling myself, having her right here and not touching. My pulse thrums, but lingering resolve keeps my eyes on the screen.
She dances her fingertips over the skin above her red bra. Glimpses of it through her white shirt tormented me all night. Remi appears more than pleased to pick up the taunting.
“You still like red, Foster?” she asks, toying with the top edge.
Fuck, my dick can’t take her saying my name right now. It’s pressing into my zipper hard enough to border on painful.
“Mmm. I do, but…” I rub the bare skin beneath my thumb. “I’ll like it more if they match.”
I gently lift her knee until she takes over, spreading her thighs to expose the tiny scrap of red fabric at the apex. Locking onto the wet spot in the center, I groan and am officially beyond not touching.
The camera hasn’t even lowered when I surge forward and hook her around the waist. She gasps as I haul her across the tub. The camera lands by my leg, and she lands right where I fucking want her.
My body shifts enough she can straddle me while I tug her closer by her open shirt. I lick above her bra, right where she was touching, and then I suck hard. She whimpers, her hands on the sides of my neck but not stopping me even though she squirms. The movement rubs her pussy over my jeans and hard cock beneath.
“Oh, fuck.” Remi pushes her fingers into my hair. I owe the more-drunk version of me for losing the bandana.
I work my way up her chest and grab her ass in both hands, jerking her forward and flexing my hips. The friction sends her head back on a moan. My mouth moves over her throat, her pulse beating against my lips before I draw back.
A battle’s waging over what part of me gets what part of her. But it’s the first time I’ve touched her and seen her at the same time since the dim restroom in Prague. Fuck, do I want to see her while I touch her.
I look up and find her staring right back at me. She rips the mask off my eyes, dropping it behind her with the camera. We’re face-to-face in a way we haven’t been. So close her ragged breaths heat my skin, her tempting mouth an inch from mine. She doesn’t try to kiss me and saves me from a worse internal fight. We’ll leave the cocoon eventually. I need to keep something free of her for then.
Instead, she traces my jawline and down my neck while I rake my gaze over her. By now, her skirt’s bunched up on her thighs, her cheeks flushed but not as red as the skin I tortured, marking her. I pull the rest of her shirt loose and urge her hips to move over me.
“So fucking sexy,” I tell her, pushing the cup of her bra down on one side.
I draw her nipple into my mouth, soft with my tongue and then rough with my teeth. She pulls at my hair, and I thrust up harder.
“Foster,” she breathes.
At first I think it’s hearing my name that makes my cock throb. It’s been a long time since I was between a set of legs and heard anything other than Adams. Then she repeats it, needy and desperate, and it has everything to do with Remi saying it. I’m losing my fucking mind over her—and not for the first time.
I yank down the other side of her bra, slipping under the back of her skirt to feel the soft skin beneath my palm at the same time. Switching to her other nipple, I tuck both cups under her breasts so I can let my thumb trail lower. Her hooded eyes follow it when I glance up, her lips parted and soft pants escaping. The sound fills the bathroom around us. The air pulses more .
Fabric coasts under my thumb once I hit the top of her skirt. I brush my lips up to her collarbone and squeeze her ass one more time before bringing my hand to wrap her rib cage to slow her movements. She stops, tracking the other’s progress as it glides up her thigh.
“What else are you going to show me?” I ask, voice rough.
Lust-drunk eyes pop up to mine. This close, I catch the darker green flecks. “What do you want to see?”
Pushing her skirt up all the way, I lean her back a little and drop my attention between us. I ghost my thumb up her slit through the drenched red fabric. She whimpers as I reach her clit, her hand tangling in my hair.
“I want to see something hot and wet.”
The sound of her breath cuts out the second I tuck my finger under the edge. I pull the material to the side, exposing her glistening pussy. Exactly what I wanted.
I groan. “You’re fucking soaked for me, Rem.”
With nothing between us, I swipe up the same path, and she sharply inhales, then she scoots back and braces a palm on my leg behind her to allow me more room.
I flick my eyes up to hers. “Are you making a request?”
“More like you fulfilling a promise.” She draws a trail from my neck to my chest, but I catch her wrist and sweep my thumb over her pulse point.
“We might as well take care of a few then,” I say, guiding her hand lower.
I use her fingers to drag her arousal up and press down on her clit. At the first hint of pressure, she lets out a sexy sound, and her lids crush closed.
“Not a chance,” I tell her, and they flutter open, resettling on me. “Tell me where you’re supposed to look, Remi.”
“At you. Always at you.” She rasps the words and circles her hips to grind her ass against my cock. I meet them with her hand as they come around.
“Good girl.” I stroke her fingers all the way through one more time. They shine when I pull her wrist up and aim them to their true destination, slipping them between her parted lips. “Suck.”
She moans, tasting herself, and I drop my hand back between her legs.
“Fuck, Foster.”
Hers falls away from her mouth and clutches the front of my shirt while I rub her slick clit.
She rolls her hips for more, my cock aching every time she moves over it. I flex into her, only for Remi to grind down harder.
As stunning as the visual of her spread wide for me, I slide my other hand to her breast and follow with my tongue, massaging and licking and sucking. I feel her breath come faster. Feel her grip tighten on my jeans where she’s braced on my leg. Feel the weight of her on me. The heat from her body. Her.
“What now, Remi?” I tug at her nipple right after asking, and she arches into me.
My fingers tease lower, circle her entrance, and retreat. It causes her to whimper, and she tilts her pelvis in an attempt to get them back. I hum, drifting lower again. I start to reverse, and she releases my shirt and grasps my wrist.
“You want me right here?” I ask, rubbing lightly.
“Yes,” she breathes. “Please, Foster. I need to feel you.”
Not the first time I’ve heard those words, but the first time I don’t have to just say, “I know, baby.”
She looks down, and I let her, my eyes staying on her face as I dip inside her. I thrust a few times before adding another, pumping in and out of her pussy, pressing my thumb to her clit.
“Oh God.” She pushes into my hair, hips rocking.
I watch her mouth open on a silent gasp when I stretch her with a third.
Remi used to ask me to show her beautiful things—this was mine. I would have given anything to feel her while I made her come back then. I’m right there all over. And, if possible, I want it even more.
A thud breaches the walls from who the fuck knows what, and Remi flicks her gaze up, like she thinks I might stop, but I only thrust harder. “Fuck.”
“Just like that, baby,” I tell her, pinching her nipple and earning the sexiest sound. “Show me how this tight cunt drips down my hand when you come.”
She tips her face up to the ceiling and gives me my name over and over. I speed up, feeling her thighs tighten, her pussy, her hold on my hair. My other hand slides up to the front of her neck, her pulse wild beneath my palm. Remi brings her head up on a moan, then she clenches around me, her eyes all mine as she comes with a muted cry. Fucking beautiful while she shatters to pieces for me instead of giving me ones of her like she used to.
I still once she relaxes, both of our breaths unsteady. Her forehead falls onto mine, and the hooded look she gives me is how I’ll drown again.
We both ignore the buzz on porcelain from one of our phones. My fingers pull out of her, fucking soaked, and I drag hers down.
“See how good you did for me?” I swipe them through her pussy, making sure to graze her sensitive clit.
“Fuck,” she breathes.
She grabs the back of my neck, lids fluttering when I suck them clean. I groan at how divine she tastes, releasing her wrist. Remi keeps her touch there, trailing across my lower lip, and I shove my hand into her hair.
The phone vibrates again. And again.
I glance at hers, screen up by mine and notifications rolling in.
She sighs and reaches for it. With her skin still pressed against mine, she unlocks it. The message thread opens as I look down. Xander. The wannabe boyfriend I watched stake a claim on her outside her apartment building. I know that because his last message is a selfie. No shirt, tongue out, spiked hair, and holding up devil horns with a lightning bolt painted over an eye— I’ll be your rock god, baby.
And the cocoon fucking disintegrates. We snap into our real timeline, and my jaw clenches. I sit back, my hands dropping away from her.
“He’s my roommate,” she says, dismissively.
“I know who he is, Remi.” I slide her off me, back to the other end of the bathtub, and I stand up with my phone.
“Foster?” she says as I slide open the glass panel. “Where are you?—”
“You were right. No one will touch you.”
I don’t look at her, stepping over the side, and I walk out without even wanting to.
Now she’s the true Remi. Remi Sinner. The one who fucking destroyed everything.