Page 71 of Liars

“This is a one-time thing, got it, little raven?” His voice dropped, rougher now, sending a shiver down my spine. “I can’t spend every night in your bed, no matter how much you might want it.”

I scoffed, ignoring the heat in my face. “As if, Corvo. This has nothing to do with sex. This is purely a business arrangement.”

His brow arched. “Is it?”

I sucked in a sharp breath as his thumb brushed just beneath my bottom lip. My entire body reacted like he’d set fire to my skin. My heart pounded. My stomach twisted. Such a simple touch, but it sent something dangerously close to need swirling in my core.

“I asked you to stay for your shitty company,” I managed to say, my voice weaker than I wanted it to be. “Not for what’s in your pants.”

His smirk was slow and knowing. “Now stop overthinking it, Kaylor,” he murmured, his tone softer but still firm. Get some sleep.”

Sleep!

He wanted me to sleep after the storm of lust and confusion he just created inside me? How did he expect me to get my body to calm down with him lying next to me? With the sound of his rhythmic breathing in my ear?

Like I could possibly sleep now with my body still humming, my pulse refusing to slow. Like I could shut my mind off when he was right there, his breathing steady, his presence filling the room, the space between us impossibly charged.

I hesitated, then slipped under the covers, deciding the best decision for me was to close my eyes and pretend anyone but Kreed lay beside me. The dent in my plan was I couldn’t trick my senses. His scent lingered in the air, giving me no hope of deceiving my mind.

“You’re thinking,” he muttered.

My eyes popped open, glaring at him. Kreed remained close, but I didn’t doubt for a second he felt my gaze. Sighing, I snuggled deeper against the pillow and tried again.

God help me.

I was so, so screwed.

I woke slowly, the kind of slow that came from when the bed was too warm and too comfortable to leave. My body felt cocooned,wrapped in a rare sense of peace, the softness of the covers lulling me back toward sleep.

But something was off.

The feeling hit me like a prickle at the back of my neck—a sense that I wasn’t alone, like I was being watched—but heaviness pulled at my eyes. They didn’t want to open fully. Not yet. Not when I was so snuggly warm. I buried deeper into the cozy toastiness, the warmth so inviting, but the unease was persistent, nagging at the edges of my awareness. For a blissful moment, I let myself sink back into the haze, but my brain started to connect the dots and become more and more aware.

Raven Night.

The cellar.

Kreed.

Oh, God.

What have I done?

Or the question should be, what did we do?

I tried to pull the memories of last night from my still-fuzzy-with-sleep brain. I’d asked him to stay. That much I was certain of. A jolt of electricity hit me, and my eyes shot open. My breath caught as I took in the scene.

I wasn’t just lying next to Kreed. I was draped over him, my legs tangled with his, my hand resting firmly on his chest, rising and falling with each of his slow, even breaths. The hoodie I’d borrowed from him had ridden up slightly, the hem brushing against his hip.

Panic flared in my chest, but I didn’t dare move. The moment was already too intimate, too vulnerable, and I wasn’t sure I wanted to see his reaction when he woke, but that nagging feeling of being watched only grew stronger.

Carefully, I shifted my head just enough to look toward the end of the bed, and my heart nearly stopped. I stifled the scream before it unleashed, putting my fist to my mouth.

Mason and Maddox were sitting there, their expressions wildly different. Mason grinned at me from ear to ear, his amusement shining bright as the morning sun. Maddox, on the other hand, scowled so deeply it was a wonder his face hadn’t frozen that way.

I gasped, jerking back instinctively, and the sudden movement was enough to wake Kreed. His eyes blinked open, groggy but sharp, and he immediately noticed the presence of his brothers.

“Don’t you two look cozy,” Mason drawled like the shithead he was, a card flipping between his fingers, undoubtedly, the Joker. It was always the Joker.

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