Casting Stones (Stones Duet #1) (14 page)

“So tell me again how you ended up in Boston?”

“For work.” I blink a few times, wondering how much she really needs to know. How I tried my hardest to get a job at the elementary school in my hometown just so I could be close to her? Or that when I realized my ex was never going to give me a second chance, I started looking around at other districts and even out of state? I wouldn’t be surprised if Remy is going to think I’m some fucking pansy who has no balls.

“I know that, but why Boston?”

“I really wanted to get into administration and this is where I was offered a position.”

“Cool. You like being in charge?” She grins deviously at me as she leans forward, scratching her ankle and then dragging her fingernails along her calf.

I smile at her words, wondering if she’s just talking about my role and responsibility as assistant principal. “I do, but I don’t mind giving up control every once in a while. It’s kind of nice when someone else is in charge sometimes.” I smirk. She grins.

“How about you? What exactly are you going to school for?” I nudge her arm with my own. She pulls away and fidgets like she’s suddenly nervous.

“I told you I’m a grad student at BC.”

“Why Boston College?”

“I had to stay close to home.”

“Makes sense. What’s your major again?”

“Mental Health with a minor in Child Psychology. I like to study the brain, I always try to figure out what makes people tick. Why we make the decisions we make. You know the whole ‘nature vs. nurture’ thing.” She squirms again, crossing the opposite leg to rub her other ankle.

“You okay?” I ask just as she jumps to her feet and swats the back of her dress.

“What the hell? Ouch!” Quick slaps to her ass and legs have me laughing and questioning her.

“Ants! There are freaking ants everywhere!”

I look down and sure enough red ants are crawling around in a mad frenzy. I reach forward and slap the ant crawling up her calf.

“Hey!” she practically barks.

“You had an ant on your leg. I swear to God!” I throw my hands up defensively.

When she lifts the hem of her dress, I catch a glimpse of her lace thong fitted perfectly against her curves. I look at her with lust in my eyes and silently tell myself to calm the fuck down.

“Oh my God! Those little suckers bit me!” She laughs. “I’m itchy everywhere.”

“Want me to scratch anything?” I tease even though I’d love nothing more to run my hands all over her.

“Don’t make me change my mind about you, Shane Davis!”

I freeze, knowing I never told her my last name. “How’d you know my last name?”

She looks slightly embarrassed as she shrugs her shoulders.

“Remy,” I chastise her.

“What?” she laughs. “It’s called
research
.”

“Oh no, I think it’s called stalking.” I grin at her, loving that she took the initiative to find out more about me. I just hope her research ended there.

“That’s it. I’m going home.” She bends to pick up the flowers and her shoes, choosing to walk barefoot through the grass. “I have to stop at the pharmacy to get some cortisone or something.”

“Where’s your phone?” I look back but don’t see it.

“I have it.” She pats her chest, smiles and then waggles her eyebrows. My dick wants to waggle back.

Fifteen minutes later we arrive at the pharmacy. She pulls a thin roll of dollar bills out from her bra, purchases a tube of anti-itch cream and steps onto the sidewalk. Two things happen simultaneously as she gasps loudly and shoves my body back, spinning me around so she’s pinned underneath my chest. What the hell? I look to my left and then to my right, but I only see a dark sedan pass by, a few people walking together and an old homeless guy digging through a garbage can.

“Hi,” she whispers as she looks up at me. I have no idea what expression is on my face but surprise has to be at the forefront.

“What’s going —”

My words are silenced when Remy’s hand reaches across the back of my neck, pulls me down and crashes her lips onto mine. Never in my life has a second kiss felt as good as the first. Not even with
her
. Remy’s soft lips are warm and welcoming. I slip my hands around her tiny waist and hold her close. My erection presses into her belly as she continues to devour my mouth, driving me wild with every swirl of her tongue against mine. I don’t know how long we stand there kissing on the sidewalk, but it ends too soon when her hands slide from my neck to my face as her fingertips smooth over my skin. She bites my lip playfully, bringing the abrupt, heated kiss to a close. I pull back just in time to see her shut her eyes and spread her mouth into a small smile. She moans when I kiss her forehead and I enjoy the moment as I memorize they way she feels in my arms.

“Shane,” she whispers quietly. “I like you.”

This beautiful, incredibly smart girl feels something. She feels something for
me
. I want to tell her that I’m becoming, if I’m not already, infatuated and obsessed with her, but I know that will just scare her away. I’m done abiding by society’s rules, playing the waiting game of telling someone how I feel. When I graze my fingertips along her cheeks then across her lips, she closes her eyes and breathes softly the words, “Maybe too much.”

My interest is heightened because her words mirror what I feel.
“Too much, too fast, too soon”
says the little voice in my head. I squeeze her into my chest and rub circles into her back, comforting her, comforting myself.

A deep, ragged, perhaps cleansing breath escapes as she relaxes in my arms.

Needing to lighten things up, I smile, press my tented pants into her belly.“I really like you, too.” I joke with a chuckle.I hope it serves as a reminder of what I whispered in her ear at the diner.

She tilts her head while her green eyes become sober and her lips tighten. “You like me or my body?”

“Both,” I answer honestly. “You’re beautiful and sexy as hell.”

Embarrassed by my words, she looks away until I draw her attention back to me with additional words. “Remy, I love your tenacious spirit, your sense of humor, your smile, your lips…God, I love your lips.” I kiss her lightly before continuing. “These little hands work so hard, writing papers and serving others. I see the way you treat people like Mr. Johnson from the diner. It’s obvious you care about others. You’re very selfless; you put others first, don’t you?”

She opens her mouth to rebut, but I silence her with my index finger. “You’re the complete package. Smart, sexy and gorgeous.”

“You make me sound like Mother Teresa.”

“Yeah, but a hell of a lot sexier.”

“Believe me, I’m no saint.”

I bend down and scoop up the small, plastic bag she dropped on the ground when she kissed me. “Come on. Let’s go.”

We walk hand in hand, her small hand fits perfectly tucked in mine. If she thinks I don’t notice the subtle glances back, looking behind her, she’s seriously mistaken. I was trained to keep my eyes open and survey the surroundings to seek out and extinguish threats. As we pass the storefronts, I purposely stop and look at the displays in the windows, giving her the opportunity to silently confirm that we are, in fact, alone. I’m not sure what spooked her, but I’ll be damned if I don’t keep my eye on her. I take care of what’s mine. I protect what’s mine and Remy is mine even if she doesn’t realize it yet. When we reach the train station, the words begging her to come back to my place almost tumble out not only because I am hard as a rock, desperate to take her to bed and make her mine, but truthfully, I’m not ready to say goodbye. Being with this girl does something to me; she makes me feel alive, she’s the spark that ignites the fire deep within me.

Remy bends at the waist and scratches her ankle once again. Her eyes dance with humor when she tells me that despite facing the world’s worst ant invasion, she had a really great time. I try to convince her that if she needs help applying cortisone to all those “hard to reach places,” I’m the right man for the job. She lifts one of my hands and places it against hers, palm to palm. She stares at our joined hands, appraising the difference in sizes.

“I wonder what else these hands can do.” She smirks, shooting me a suggestive look which causes a painful ache in my stiffness. Never in my life have a woman’s mere words done this to me. I think I’d explode immediately if she unzips my pants and slides her hand down my shaft.

With a knowing smile, she remarks that it’s late and that she’s got a lot of homework to do for class. It was her subtle way of telling me that I wouldn’t be seeing her tomorrow.

“I’ll call you tomorrow. Thanks for dinner and the flowers.”

“Good night, Remy.” I growl, after kissing her slowly.

She moans in response and then smiles. “Good night, Shane Thomas.”

She laughs and turns abruptly to board the Red Line.

Laughter erupts and then halts. “Stalker!” I call out, realizing she’s done some extensive “research” to know my middle name.

“Research,” she mouths as the sliding doors close. She bites her bottom lip to prevent a smile.

I walk to catch the train bound for my side of the city. Onlookers stare at me as I pass by. The ridiculous grin on my face won’t relent. I’m sure I look like a deranged person, smiling to himself. Little do they know the reason for my happiness is a petite blonde whose name is Remington Scott.

“Research,”
the little voice in my head justifies.

I’m lying awake in bed, still thinking about her after having just finished jerking off for the second time, when I hear Collin stroll in well after two. He curses at the coffee table for being in his way. His muffled laughter is joined by a woman’s. Her laugh is annoying; it’s high pitched and forced. It’s nothing like Remy’s.

Within minutes, I’m forced to dig out my headphones and place them over my ears, cranking up
Crawling
by Linkin Park just to drown out the sound of my buddy and some girl having sex twenty feet away in my living room.

The next day, after making the hour and a half trip home to see my sister and driving then hitting traffic on the way back, Collin and I are ready for a couple of beers and a round or two of darts. But when Jenna texts him, he ditches me.

With a heavy pat to his back, I ask, “What happened to bros before hos?”

His quick response of “With all due respect, I can’t exactly fuck you, Sir” makes me laugh hard.

“Whatever, man. You go have fun.” I head down to a sports bar near Fenway to catch the last half of the game.

Remy

“DAVID, IT WAS
bad! She was crying and screaming all night. I didn’t know what to do.” I stare at my cup of green tea and shake my head, dispelling the images of my mother battered and bruised. “I tried to call the cops, but she slapped the phone out of my hand, leaving this scratch on my face.” My fingertips graze my cheek lightly. I hope the thick layer of concealer I applied earlier does its job.

“Remy, you are the child. She’s the parent, albeit an irresponsible and reckless one, but a parent nonetheless. You know you can’t control her any more than you can control the weather.” He takes my hands in his, squeezing them reassuringly while rubbing his thumbs across my knuckles. I smile my appreciation at the kind gesture but pull away and wrap my hands around the hot paper cup.

“I’m worried about her. I wish I could make her go to rehab or somewhere far away from all of this crap.”

“She’d never go. She needs help, but unless she’s willing to help herself, things will never change. The choice has to be hers.” David’s voice fills with strong conviction, no doubt a result of the years he spent as a counselor.

“I know,” I agree. “I’m just wishful thinking.”

Long fingers tap on the table creating a rhythmic sound. “So have you looked into those internships I recommended?”

“Not yet,” I exhale an exasperated breath.

“What are you waiting for?” he asks sternly with a glare. “They’re filling up quickly. There may not be any positions available.” My advisor can’t hide the annoyance in his voice. I know he’s pulled some strings and made phone calls to help me out, but the internship isn’t exactly at the top of my list of priorities. He doesn’t need to know that a certain gorgeous, extremely sexy man has recently taken up residence in my brain. But more importantly, my heart. Even when I’m spending hours and hours reading case studies, I think of Shane.
Shane Thomas Davis
. I even like his freaking name.

I turn the table on him. “So have you looked into online dating like I recommended?”I’m tempted to come right out and ask about the nature of his relationship with Chanel, but I don’t.

He snickers quietly. “Nice try,” he says, seeing right through my attempt at diversion.

“C’mon. When was the last time you went on a date?”

I love the way his hazel eyes narrow behind his glasses when he smiles. He looks attractive, young and, for a brief moment, happy.

David looks out the window sadly before turning his gaze downward into his coffee cup. “Remy, no one will ever replace her.” I can hear the heart break which still lingers heavily in his quiet voice.