Page 12 of A Raven Revived

Daisy swayed slightly in the hallway outside his door.

“Fitz!” She giggled and pressed her finger against her lips. “Shhhh.”

He looked up and down the corridor to see if anyone was with her. “Daisy?”

“Yesss. That’s me.” She pointed at her chest and walked unsteadily into the room.

“Are you alone, Daisy?” He pushed the door closed behind her.

“I was.” She nodded. “But now I’m not.” She raised herself on tiptoe and flung her arms around his neck before clumsily smashing her lips against his. He could taste the wine that had wafted into the room as soon as he’d opened the door.

He peeled her arms from around his neck and pulled himself away from her. “You’re drunk, Daisy.”

She shrugged. “Perhaps a little,” she said, holding up her thumb and forefinger for reference.

“How are you here, Daisy?”

“I snuck out,” she whispered. “Don’t tell Ash. He won’t be very happy with me.”

Jesus. The man would have his head—no, his balls—on a pike. If Anderson thought he was in trouble before…

“Did you walk all the way from Raven House? By yourself?”

She nodded, clearly very proud of herself. She could have been killed out there.

He wrapped his arms around her, thanking God, once again, that she was safe. “I should put you over my knee for being so reckless. I could have lost you again.”

“Mmmm, how about you just kiss me instead?”

Fool that he was, he did. It wasn’t sweet or gentle. It was punishing and passionate as he finally allowed himself to show her how he really felt. Angry and desperate, heartbroken and needy, and most of all, so goddamned glad she was alive. Her lips parted, and he plunged inside, claiming every part of her mouth, the sweetness of the wine and of her soft whimpers sending spirals of desire through him. He pulled her roughly against him, his hard length pressed along her stomach. He wanted her. He’d always wanted her.

But he had to stop. She was drunk, and she wasn’t his to take even if she was sober. He wrenched himself away from her. Her dazed eyes looked up at him before a hungry smile grew on her lips.

“Do you remember that time… that time when you touched me? You made me feel something magical.”

Jesus, of course he remembered. The scene still frequently haunted his dreams. Daisy, enthusiastically losing herself to her passion in his arms. She pulled her bottom lip between her teeth and looked up at him from beneath hooded lids.

“Will you do that again?” She swallowed, waiting for his response.

“Daisy.”

“Please?”

How was he supposed to say no to her? “You realize Ash will have my guts for garters, right?”

She leaned in close and whispered, “I won’t tell him if you don’t.”

To his dismay, or perhaps his delight, it was too soon to tell for sure, she began opening the buttons of her blouse. She had finished with most of them by the time he started thinking with his brain instead of his cock. He stilled her hands with one of his own.

“We can’t do this, Daisy.”

She raised a brow and looked him square in the eye. “Your kiss, and perhaps the wine”—she scrunched her cute little nose and nodded—“have made me desperate to be touched. So if you won’t do it, I’ll do it myself.” She shrugged. “Either way, these are coming off.” She reached behind her back and opened her belt, allowing it to fall to the floor.

Jesus Christ. Who was this woman? He’d never wanted anyone or anything so badly in all his life.

“Daisy, please.” He was trying so hard to be honorable. “You’re not in a state to be making decisions like this.”

She pushed her skirts down and stepped out of them and her bodice joined them shortly thereafter. She stood there smiling at him, wearing nothing but her corset, chemise, drawers, and stockings.

---