Total pages in book: 158
Estimated words: 154037 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 770(@200wpm)___ 616(@250wpm)___ 513(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 154037 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 770(@200wpm)___ 616(@250wpm)___ 513(@300wpm)
I should have known I was in trouble when I was pummeled with a rush of relief. Should have known I was already half gone when my insides had buzzed with the knowledge that I got to keep her here for a little while longer.
Hell, I should have known it right then when I came bounding upstairs from the garage and swung open the door late that evening to find her standing in the kitchen, making dinner.
Should have known it when my chest squeezed in a fit of pleasure so severe it nearly knocked me from my feet.
She had a bottle of red wine open and a glass sitting next to her on the counter. Taylor Swift was blaring from the speakers.
My stomach twisted at the sight. The whole setting so much Raven Tayte that it stole my damned breath.
“What do you think you’re doin’?” I asked as I stepped inside and tossed my keys to the high table next to the door.
She canted me one of those saucy grins as she swayed from side to side, swishing those lush hips, the girl wearing another one of those pinup dresses that she loved to torment me with. This one was fully black and sleeveless, the neckline high and wrapped with a frill around her neck.
Makeup done thick, red painted lips and her eyes drawn in a sharp cat eye. Lashes long as fuck.
Only Raven would still be wearing those sky-high heels, as comfortable as if she were barefoot.
“What does it look like I’m doing? Making dinner.” She was all coy grins. Completely light and playful tonight.
“Ah, trying to spoil me, huh?” I asked, a stupid grin hugging my mouth since clearly, I was a self-indulgent moron when it came to her.
“Well, you’re always spoiling me, so I thought it was only fair that I returned the favor.”
“You know you don’t owe me anything.”
“You’ve been letting me stay here and feeding me for more than a week. I’m pretty sure I do.”
“I like having you here.” Couldn’t keep the honesty out of my words.
That raven gaze dipped for a second before she whispered, “I like being here, too.”
“Ah, thought you were gonna be sick of me by now,” I told her as I wandered deeper into the kitchen, drawn to her.
A motherfuckin’ magnet that I couldn’t resist.
She had her hair piled on her head, and I had the urge to walk up behind her, lean in, and press my nose to the delicate slope at the back of her neck.
“Sick of you?” She playfully rolled her eyes. “My favorite person ever? I think not.”
“Well, that’s good to hear since you’re never getting rid of me.” Of all the terrible ideas I could have, this one was probably the worst, but even knowing it, I still reached out and took her hand.
Raven squealed when I gave her an impromptu spin.
Her gaze went wild with that infectious glee as I pulled her back to me then hooked an arm around her waist.
I’d always danced with her. Since I could remember. It’d always been safe. Fun. A way for us to goof around. But in the last few years, it’d become something else entirely.
It’d become gluttonous, the feeling that swept through me when I was touching her like this, acting like it was as innocent as ever when the only thing I wanted to do was splay my hand over her soft, soft skin.
Explore and taste and devastate.
Raven knew exactly what was up, and she spun out of my hold and moved to her phone on the counter so she could change the music. She switched it to one of those old swing songs I used to teach her to dance to years ago, all the way back to when we’d been living in that abandoned house.
The second the quick beat hit the air, she shimmied back in my direction. Pure fuckin’ sass. So goddamn sexy as she strutted in those heels.
I might have been the one leading her, but she was the one who compelled it all. The one who guided me as I spun her and dipped her, both of us giggling as we gave ourselves over to the freedom of the moment.
I spun her in one direction, then the other, before I tossed her out wide. Releasing my hand, she kept going, spinning and spinning across the kitchen floor before she turned to grin at me, standing about six feet away.
“Are you ready for it?” I asked.
“I was born ready for it,” she said with a curve of those distracting red lips.
She moved for me, gliding across the space. When she got within reach, I took her hand, pulling her toward me fast and flipping her over my arm. She squealed as she flew, then she was landing right back on those heels, forever steady on her feet.