Page 50 of Draven

“We didn’t use a condom.”

Draven lifts his head, his expression unconcerned. “Are you worried?”

His relaxed attitude gives me pause for thought. “Well, I take birth control, but that’s not the only concern, is it?”

A smile tugs at his lips. He rolls to the side and raises himself up on his elbow. The tips of his fingers skim my waist. “Is that your way of telling me you sleep around?”

I shove at him. “Asshole. I’m serious, Draven.”

He picks up a lock of my hair, allowing it to slip through his fingers. “I get tested regularly. And besides, I’ve never fucked a woman without a condom. Ever. Does that answer your question?”

My mouth pops open. “You’re kidding, right?”

Tugging on my earlobe, he gives a crooked smile. “Nope.”

“Then, what happened today?”

He hitches his left shoulder. “You happened, Lola. You drove me to the edge, and I just didn’t care.” He bends his head, briefly kissing me. “I know I was rough, but you didn’t seem to mind.”

If he’d asked me before we slept together, I’d have probably told him to go easy, especially with his size. But I’m glad he didn’t. I discovered something new about myself tonight, and I wouldn’t have if he’d held back.

“I’m sorry,” I say.

He frowns, his eyes darkening as they rove over my face. “What are you sorry for?”

I sigh. “Where do I begin? For not reaching out after Kiera died when it was clearly my move to make after the way I dismissed you at the hospital. For even momentarily blaming you when you were the one who saved her, who allowed her to die a free woman.” I rub my chest in an effort to relieve the ache there. “But mostly, for what happened eight years ago. I went about things the wrong way. I should have talked to you first, but I was young and inexperienced, and you intimidated me back then.”

He clasps my chin, tilting my head toward his. “What changed?” he asks, a hint of a grin touching his lips. “’Cause I sure as hell don’t intimidate you now.”

“How do you know that?”

He snorts. “Come on. If you were in any way daunted by me, you wouldn’t flay me with that tongue of yours every five goddamn minutes.” His eyes travel slowly over my body, eventually lifting to my face. “Newsflash, sweetcheeks. I’ve got much better uses for your tongue.”

I roll my eyes. “I’m trying to apologize here.”

“You can apologize by sucking my dick.”

“Jesus, Draven.” I start to laugh at his blunt comment. “What am I going to do with you?”

“Woman, I can’t be any more direct.”

He grips his semi-hard length and strokes up and down. I swallow, my stomach twisting as primitive need races through my veins. Damn. What’s wrong with me? Aren’t four orgasms enough? Especially considering that’s three more than I’ve had in over a year… apart from those self-administered, which everyone knows don’t count.

Maybe Kiera’s death has made me want to take risks and behave recklessly. To live life to the fullest and damn the consequences, because who knows what bumps in the road lie ahead. And what better man to act precipitously with than Draven? He invented risk taking.

I cover his hand with my own, following the firmness of his grip, the speed he strokes, trying to get the measure of how he likes it. Shuffling down the bed, I lick the dark red tip with the flat of my tongue, my eyes locked on his. His Adam’s apple bobs, the veins in his neck taut as he slides his hand from beneath mine, leaving me to go solo. Lacing his fingers together, he raises them to cup the back of his head.

Opening my mouth, I cover the head, taking him as deeply as I can. Before I even get him halfway in, he hits the back of my throat, and I gag.

“Relax your throat,” Draven demands, threading his hands through my hair.

How the hell do I do that?

He shifts his hips and alters the angle of my head, taking control of the speed and the depth. Gradually, I adjust to his size, hollowing my cheeks and sucking as hard as I dare. Draven’s fingers tighten in my hair, and he thrusts his hips upward.

“Jesus, yeah, just like that,” he groans.

Emboldened by his enthusiastic response, I take him deeper and look up at him. His jaw is clenched, and he’s fisting the sheets, but his eyes are open, watching my every move.

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