Page 39 of Ravaged
“Just say it, Mir. No judgment here. You know that,” she says, voice gentle.
I shift my gaze from her to Daniel, who stands by the bar, wineglass in one hand and a tumbler in the other. An older man, face lit up, hands gesturing, talks animatedly to him, and Daniel nods, wearing a patient smile.
Sighing, I glance at Renae’s beer and wonder if she’d risk a scene and pin me to the floor if I made a grab for her drink. Who am I kidding? She totally would.
“He’s a genuinely nice guy, Renae. Respectful, funny, nice, sensitive. And ...” I pause, finger the pendant resting between my breasts. “And I am not attracted to him like that. I like him. God knows I do. In some ways, he seems to know me better in four dates than men I’ve been with for months. If I let it, that kind of attentiveness could be ... intoxicating.”
“Why not let it be, then?”
“Because ...”
Thebecausechooses that moment to walk through the living room entrance. As fanciful and inane as it sounds, a shiver of tension preceded him, alerting me to his presence before I actually spotted him. Call it intuition, a sixth sense, or the fucking Force, I don’t care. But by the time he enters the room, my gaze is already locked on him.
Heat coalesces low in my belly, a molten, liquid burn settling there, swirling, expanding. It takes every last scrap of my pride not to press my palms to that spot just below my navel. Not to squeeze my thighstogether in this dress and telegraph to everyone in this room that my sex just lit up like the aurora borealis.
Oh, this is concerning.
But then again, I dare anyone to take one look at Jordan Ransom in a black suit perfectly tailored to his big, wide-shouldered, lithe frame and not hover on the verge of a spectacular eruption.
It’s been almost two weeks since I’ve laid eyes on him. Even our calls have dwindled to texts. And seeing him again after so long is like staring directly into the sun after emerging from days in a dark cave.
Blinding. Painful.
Gorgeous.
Even the civility of the slim-fitting suit and white shirt can’t contain the pervasive sexuality that emanates from him like a damn life force. All that dark-golden hair flows to his shoulders, hiding the shaved sides and framing the stark beauty of his face. The ball piercings in his eyebrow, nose, and mouth and the tattoos climbing up his neck from the open collar of his shirt don’t detract from that beauty—they add to the vitality, the edginess of it.
He’s a warrior wrapped in the trappings of civility. Raw power temporarily tethered by the bounds of decorum.
He’s walking savage art.
He’s ... not alone.
The jab of pain catches me by surprise, snatches my breath. And the grimy residue claiming space inside my chest damn near chokes off what little air I have left.
“Y’know, I joked with you about Jordan Ransom, but I didn’t think you’d gone and done something as idiotic as fall for him.”
My chin jerks back, punched by her verbal blow. “The hell? I haven’t fallen foranythingwith Jordan.” Well, other than fallen on his dick. “We’re just friends.”
But the idea of ...being in lovewith him is fucking ludicrous.
“Friends.” She twirls the beer bottle in her hands. “I’ve looked at exactly one friend in my life before how you just stared that man down. And I ended up almost marrying him. Would have if not for the fuckery of life. So you want to try thatfriendsline again?”
“Is he a good-looking man? Yes. Am I dead? No. So of course I’ve noticed. But that has nothing to do with love, for God’s sake. At least not how you make it out to be. I love him as a friend.”
Which sounds better thanI think he broke my cooch.
Which sounds a helluva lot better thanI think he broke something inside me. Something visceral and necessary that seems to respond to only him. And that’s unfortunate since I can’t have him. No, I won’tallowmyself to have him.
He’s not safe.
He’s the most dangerous man in this room for me.
Because no other tempts me to forget what I know to be more certain than any math equation.
Trust equals vulnerability. Vulnerability means exposure.
And exposure ... well, exposure means getting what you deserve when you allow yourself to be weak.
