Page 89 of Ravens
“Hey.” I take a step forward and pause. I’ve gotten used to York, comfortable. He convinced me he was safe when he never was, but I remind myself that my value is what keeps me safe now. All the cards are down, and maybe William is right—we are safe with each other, for the time being. The only worry that exists is theirs; they aren’t indispensable in the same way I am, and maybe they know that. Maybe my threat to kill them all and take things over was all it took to align us.
I think we have an understanding, and that understanding is that these men are more invested in keeping me happy and alive than anything else. I’ve got to be careful not to let that go to my head. All I have to do is manage my own emotions and not get too attached.
No easy feat, especially when I already feel something between York and myself, even though it was born of lies and deception. Whatever it is, though, all the fear and anxiety that I’ve been having about my new situation in life melts away in his presence, and I’m relieved to see him.
I cross the room and slip my arms around him, breathing him in. I’ve been angry at him and this entire situation, but the more I turn it over, the more I recognize that my anger is embedded in feeling like I lost—like they beat me at my own game—but I don’t want to be angry anymore.
He buries his face in my hair, and we stand there, suspended for a moment.
“We fly out tomorrow,” he murmurs.
“Fine.”
“But tonight.” He leans back from me and tucks a lock of hair behind my ear. “Tonight, there is no rush.”
“Good,” I say, gazing into his eyes. “Because I need some attention.”
“Me too,” he says, tilting his head down.
The kiss is soft as he takes my fingers in his hand and leads me through the door to the darkened bedroom behind him. We’re barely into the room when he pulls me in close and kisses me hard. It’s enough to make my skin buzz with the anticipation of touch, to quicken my heart and kindle that frantic sense that I need to tear all his clothes off.
The bed is near enough to push him down on, but a shadow in the corner pulls my mouth away from his as I turn my head to look at it.
“Eyes on me,” York breathes in my ear as I watch William’s silhouette settle into the chair along the wall. I didn’t see him come in here before us. It takes a second to gather myself and turn my attention back to York.
“Tonight, you’re all mine,” he says.
Nodding with uncertainty, I kiss him again.
Warm hands slip through the open front of the dress, and the rough skin of his palms scrapes against my nipples. A soft moan slips through my lips, and his hands push the dress off my shoulders, leaving it hanging from my waist. Slowly, I push it down until it slips from my hips into a pool of fabric around my feet.
Grabbing my ribs, he lifts me, and I wrap my legs around him as I dive back to his mouth and that need to tear his clothes off bubbles up again. He presses me into the bed, and I tug his shirt off. The awareness of William watching doesn’t dissipate, and I do my best to focus on York, but my attention keeps straying.
My panties slide down my thighs, and York slides down my body, pulling me to the edge of the bed as he falls to his knees between my thighs. The first caresses of his tongue against me leave me breathless, and before long I’m breathing heavily with my back arched off the bed.
William shifts in the corner again, and I can tell he’s stroking himself in the darkness. I look down at York, and although I can’t see his eyes, I feel them on me. As the orgasm builds, holding me in its clutches so I can barely get a breath in, I turn my attention back to William in time for it to break.
York hums his satisfaction against my skin as my loud moans fill the room, and my hips rock gently to meet his mouth. Seconds later, he’s tearing away the rest of his clothing andthrowing me over, dragging me up against his body as teeth sink into the back of my shoulder, and I cry out in pain.
“I missed you,” he whispers, kissing where he bit me.
An arm bands around my hips and holds me in place as he thrusts into me without warning. My head kicks back in surprise, my broken gasp barely registering above his low growl that fills the room. York’s attention on me has always been something else, something I’d never had before him. He doesn’t treat me delicately, although we have had moments of intensity that weren’t rough . . . but things with York are harried and intense and passionate, and I never want to change that.
My thoughts drift back to William and what he said at the door. Whatever is happening here in this room with William present is York telling me something without saying it, or maybe he is asking me what I want without asking. He’s always presented himself as possessive, but like William being an asshole was part of his guise . . . York is clearly not the territorial type he led me to believe he was.
I want York. I know that. I also know I enjoyed William in the way he was with me . . . but now I don’t know what to expect from him.
York uses me roughly until I’m trembling, drawing me out until I’m teetering on the edge again and the air in the room is heavy and close. Slick with sweat, I sit astride him, all self-consciousness about William’s presence having slipped away amid the grunts and moans and the hand around my throat at one point. Tired, I grind into his lap as his mouth plays with mybreasts, and my head tilts back as the swelling of another powerful release begins to consume me. Strong hands grip my hips, working them harder as my breathing becomes short, shallow gasps.
“That’s my girl,” he breathes out with his mouth to my chest. “Let me feel how badly you want to be filled up tonight.”
“Christ,” I gasp out as my body strains at the edge and then tips over it. I choke out his name, losing my voice as the orgasm crashes through me, and he groans, pulling my hips down harder again and again until he curses loudly, and his grip slackens. My hips keep moving, slowing as the pleasure fades, and the only thing keeping me upright is his arms wrapped around me.
William’s shadow moves out of the room, and York stands, picking me up and yanking the covers back before climbing into the bed with me attached to his chest.
Sometime after, the bed shifts, and a weight presses against my shoulder. Sleepily, I roll into it, realizing it isn’t York quickly. William doesn’t wear cologne, and I often smell nothing but the fresh scent of soap on him. I nuzzle into that freshness, and warm lips meet my forehead before a heavy arm drapes over me.
***
