Page 38 of Crow

The first night of the rest of my life.

That’s always been a saying that belonged to everyone else before now.

“I might not be a drinker, but I’ve worked in a bar long enough to know how quickly alcohol hits. I’m fine,” I say stubbornly.

Crow stares deep into my eyes, then releases my chin. He rubs the back of his knuckles down my cheek. I don’t break eye contact. I let him see exactly how much I want this night.

How much I wanthim.

My hand shoots out, reaching up before I can hold it back. My fingers tangle in his hair, tugging at his ponytail until I reach the top of his head. I thrust myself into his space, we’re so close, our bodies not touching, but nothing more than a breath of air between us. I arch up, noting the way his eyes change. His pupils are getting larger. We haven’t even touched each other yet and they’re already blown out.

I only notice this because I’ve read about it. I wonder if I rocked against him, would I find his cock hard in his jeans? I long to do just that, to part my legs around that hard bulge and rock against it until the friction release the ache between my legs.

I part my lips, waiting for him to make the first move, half terrified to do it because I don’t know what I’m doing. Sure, I practiced on my own hand when I was somewhere around twelve, thinking that it would help me in the future, not realizing it would be almost half a lifetime yet before I ended up here.

I was basically forced to wait, but now, I’m almost glad for it.

I’m glad that my first kiss is going to be Crow.

“There’s been no one before you,” I whisper against his lips, so very close. I can almost taste him, can almost feel how rough and soft, how brutal and gentle he’d be with me. The craving to have his hands on my body, to be just us with no barriers between, is getting stronger. “I haven’t kissed anyone. Ever.”

I didn’t truly expect that he’d be gentle or exploratory. I can sense that he’s holding himself back. That he wants this asbadly as I do. The reality of his mouth crushing mine, bruising my lips with his, is too wild a thing for me to have ever imagined. It’s different than I thought it would be. His lips are soft and demanding, his mouth wet and warm, open and devouring mine.

He tastes very faintly like peppermint. I remember him chewing gum as we took off on the plane right before I fell asleep. Has it lingered all this time?

He doesn’t kiss me like I’m a scared little virgin. He kisses me like he’s not worried in the slightest about breaking me. He’s far more experienced and it shows. His mouth leads mine, his hot tongue sweeping along the seam of my mouth, urging my lips apart. As a pre-med student, I know all about the basics of the human body. I know what the parts are and how they function. I know that the lips have more nerve endings than any other part of the body, but I couldn’t trulyunderstand.

I clutch his hair, desperate to be closer, whimpering into his mouth, opening for him so his tongue can stroke inside, winding me into a dizzying frenzy that is magnified a thousand times over in the painful throbbing between my legs. I clasp my thighs together involuntarily, gasping again as soaked fabric mashes against my clit. My fingers clench in his hair over and over, my nails probably raking at his scalp as I seek to get closer. I want him, his hard body against mine. I want to be tangled with him.

I try to roll my hips against him, but he breaks away, faltering back a step. His hand flies to his mouth, the tremble there noticeable. He looks so distinctly not himself that I worry I’ve hurt him. Those stitches are fresh and they’re right there along his jawline. How could I have been so thoughtless?

I scan them quickly, but they look the same. They haven’t broken open. There’s no fresh blood. He doesn’t appear to be in pain.

That’s not it at all.

It’s the smile that turns into a grin, the way his dark eyes crinkle at the corners, the slight flare of his nostrils with the movement of his lips.

If I thought he was beautiful before, I’m unprepared for the way he looks now… now that he’s…happy. It’s like watching the sun come out in all its golden glory and warmth, when you’ve been drenched to the skin by ice cold rain and gusty cold winds. It’s stunning. Blinding. My mind sinks further into a soupy, delicious fog. I grin back just as wide, and just as foolish.

He rakes a hand through his hair, yanking out the neat ponytail and shaking the strands all over the place, until they look wild. He faces me, as drunk on happiness as I very likely am on vodka. The excitement of this place is finally hitting him too. It’s like he’s waking up after a long slumber.

Wild energy courses through me, reverberating off all my bones, but it’s nothing compared to the sensation that makes my legs watery as he takes my hand in his, threading our fingers together. He took the bandage off before we flew, and he’s been using his other hand all night, but the one he gives me is his uninjured one.

“Strippers it is.”

Chapter 11

Raven

Fuck, it’s good to be back.

Chapter 12

Raven

Still. Here.

Now that I’ve finally pushed my way to the forefront and have control of both body and brain, I’m going to make sure that I’m the one who stays in control.

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