“Please,” I said in answer, the word nearly swallowed by our laughter.
A blink, that’s all it took for Ransom to haul us out of the heavy liquid and perch upon a stone. He situated me against his chest, one arm under my knees, another supporting my neck. His movements were sharp, quick, and graceful. He never wavered with my weight, never slipped on the slimy rocks.
“Don’t say I never get you anything.” His words were a teasing caress at my ear as he propelled us onto the other side of the island and across the finish line.
“I helped,” I teased right back as he set me on my feet.
Fireworks erupted into the night sky, bursts of blue and gold and red, a stark and explosive announcement that we were the winners. My father’s voice boomed over the loudspeakers, saying as much to the cheering crowd of spectators waiting for us.
The roar of applause, the complimentary words from my father, the proud look my mother wore as she headed toward us—it all spiraled upward inside of me until I could barely contain my happiness.
We’d won.
Ransom and me.
Not mates, but friends. We’d beaten them all. We worked that well together. There was something to that, something important. I glanced down at myself, noting the mud dripping off of my clothes, my skin…
My mark.
Ransom’s mark. The tattoo…it was gone. Perhaps the combination of the soap and the murky water, I didn’t know, but icy panic threatened to steal all of my joy. My mother was mere steps away, and if she reached for my hand to declare us victors…
I leaped into Ransom’s arms, somehow knowing he didn’t need a warning to catch me. His arms folded around my lower back easily, almost as if it were second nature. He hefted me off the ground, my feet dangling at his shins as he held me up to his level. The grin, the dimples I could see peeking through all the mud, made me almost forget why I needed the distraction in the first place.
I pressed my cheek against his, my lips at his ear. “My mark washed off,” I whispered, and he went still beneath me.
“Congratulations,” my mother’s voice rang out behind me. “You two performed beautifully together. You’ve certainly earned this,” she said, and Ransom shifted just enough with me against him that I could see her extending the jewel-encrusted box toward him.
He held me with one arm, reaching for the box with the other. “Thank you,” he said, then turned his face to me, his eyes a molten blue. “If you don’t mind, Lady Sorokin,” he said, never once taking those eyes from mine. “I’d like to celebrate with my mate properly.”
My mother gave a little hiccup laugh—apparently, no one was immune to Ransom’s charms. “Of course,” she said, and the words had barely left her mouth before Ransom had us falling backward through space and time, his smell of snow and spice swirling around me.
The wending faded as Ransom’s feet hit the solid tile floor of the bathing chamber in our room. I didn’t move, and he didn’t either. Not to place me on my feet or to sit the box down. Instead, he stared down at me, every inch of our bodies covered in mud, our breaths heaving from the competition. And just when I thought I’d combust from the tension curling between us, from the feel of his body against mine, from the way he held me so tightly…he smirked.
“While I love seeing you so dirty,” he said, pairing the words with a slow graze of his eyes downward that I felt like a brand against my skin. “Let’s get you clean.”
My heart pounded against my chest so hard I knew he could feel it, we were pressed that close together. My eyes flicked to the large shower behind him, the bath connecting to it big enough to swim in. Each was big enough for the both of us…but—
“What do you say, Olivia?” His voice was low and gravely. “Want me to get you wet?”
9
Ransom
Shit. I’d seriously just asked if I could get her wet, and it hadn’t come out as the flirtatious tease I’d intended. Nope, I’d pretty much gone all possessive male on her out at the finish line to save us, and that energy had taken hold…then taken over. What the fuck is wrong with you?
So much for playing it cool.
I flashed Olivia what I hoped was a playful grin, then wended us right into the spacious, rock-lined shower so we wouldn’t get mud all over the bathroom. Adrenaline coursed through my bloodstream, the taste of victory sweet on my tongue.
“Ransom—” she half-laughed, the sound bouncing off the walk-in shower walls, then sputtered when I flipped the shower on, dousing us both. The water felt colder than the frigid sea for the first few seconds, and she gripped my mud-laden shirt in her fists and gasped.