Page 27 of Just One More Moment

“What’s that?” she asked, wariness returning.

He ran his knuckles over her cheek. “That you’ll stay close to me at all times.”

She pursed her lips, knowing he’d find out tonight his request wouldn’t be all that easy to do. But since she knew she’d be safe, she was able to make the promise. “I will,” she murmured.

Without warning, he shifted her in his lap and suddenly he was standing. She wrapped her legs around his waist, anchoring herself to him. “What are you doing?” she asked.

“We’re still friends with benefits, right?”

She nodded, her aching sex keenly aware of which benefit she desired at the moment.

He smiled and pressed a quick kiss to her lips. “Good. Then we’re going to exercise some of those benefits. What do you think about spending the day in bed before we have to go out later?”

“Works for me.”

A few seconds later, he was tossing her onto the bed and their afternoon began.

Chapter Ten

Agreeing to takeRaven tonight went against Remy’s better judgment. But from the second she’d said the weekly event was important to her, he knew he’d give in. Which explained why he was now in a way-too-crowded coffee shop, listening to people read their personal words. Some were poems, others were short stories. Most sounded somewhat autobiographical, even if the meaning was hidden beneath lyrical prose.

Raven had omitted how busy this place would be tonight, no doubt because if she’d told him, he never would have let her come. Keeping her close wasn’t easy considering how many people she knew that wanted to corner her and have a word.

For a woman who talked a good game about keeping people at a distance, there was a part of her who liked making friends and discussing things they had in common. When others finished their performance, she clapped and whistled, whether she knew them or not, and made it a point to give them validation during the break.

Despite Remy’s unease about her brother stalking her, he enjoyed watching Raven in her element and wondered if she knew how easily she fit in. How much the individuals in this eclectic group liked her and valued her opinion. Seeing this side of her as opposed to the stiff, keep-to-herself woman at work, was a revelation and showed him who she could be, if only Lance wasn’t around to terrorize her.

“Our next presenter is Raven Walsh,” Dennis, the manager of the shop, said into the mike.

The Raven who walked up to the makeshift stage wasn’t the same woman he employed. At work, she was a no-nonsense bar manager who wore tight jeans and The Back Door T-shirt uniform, hair up in a ponytail. He’d seen her do elegant at Zach and Hadley’s wedding. And when she’d dressed tonight, he heard her squeal with excitement from where he was watching television in the den. When he’d popped his head into the bedroom and asked what was up, she’d shooed him away.

A few minutes later, she strode out of the room wearing a peach chiffon skirt that was vintage Fallon, a pair of black leggings beneath it, and matching ballet slippers on her feet. A light gray asymmetric sweater fell off one shoulder and hung long over the skirt. She’d woven a thin, patterned scarf through her hair that she wore loose, and hung down past her shoulders.

Gorgeous and free, that was how he’d describe her.

“When your sister told me about the clothing she’d brought, I was just grateful to have something to wear but she’s amazing!” Raven twirled so the skirt floated in the air, then wrapped gently over the leggings.

He chuckled at her enthusiasm but his dick was hard at the thought of lifting that skirt and taking her against the glass window overlooking the city.

He cleared his throat. “I had no idea you shared my sister’s taste in clothing.”

“I didn’t either, but oh my gosh! I’m buying myself fun things first chance I get!” she’d said.

Now they were at the coffee bar, and she stood on the stage, brave, with no uncertainty in sight. This was the woman she’d be once out of Lance’s shadow and Remy had every intention of making sure she had that chance.

Even better, the poem she read was abouthim.

Stunned, he listened to poetry he didn’t know she could write, more of haiku-type style than anything else. Short bursts of sentences about a man she’d never expected to meet. One out of her league. Out of reach for more reasons than wealth. She spoke about high walls that nobody could breach.

But he wasn’t just anyone.

That was when Remy knew. Hewasbreaking through her walls by small degrees and it gave him a spark of hope. True optimism filled him. Then, he leaned back, arms still folded over his chest, and let himself enjoy.

***

Back at Remy’splace, Raven kept busy. She didn’t want to allow him time to question her about her poem, not only because her work was deeply personal, but because it had clearly been about him. She hadn’t considered the need for him to go with her when she’d written the words.

She’d expected him to question her on the way home but because parking was scarce at the coffee shop, they’d taken an Uber there and then back, and the driver had been chatty.

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