Afraid to Fly (Fearless #2) (31 page)

I
DIDN’T HAVE THE
words to say thank you. There was nothing in the English language that could verbally define what I was feeling at that exact moment. So I didn’t say a word. Instead, I showed him. With every single part of me, I surrendered myself to what I felt for Dominic Trevino and kissed him like my dying breath lay on his lips. And everything I had felt before—before pain and abandonment and humiliation ever played a part in our story—was resurrected. All those emotions rose up within me and took flight. And in his arms, I was soaring.

As if it were choreographed, we began to shuffle towards the hall, towards the bedroom. I wasn’t even sure who initiated the move, but I knew I wanted to. I knew I wanted him. And judging by the feel of his body against mine, hard and hot in every place my fingers touched, he wanted me too.

He wanted me.

After everything that had happened . . . all the rejection, the disgust . . .
now
he wanted me.

I don’t know how I was supposed to feel about that. I had changed so much since then, and so did he. We were different people now. And
this
Raven had never known what it felt like to have
this
Dom kiss her with so much passion that her knees nearly collapsed under her. She had never had every stitch of clothing peeled off her body so agonizingly slow by him. And
this
Dom had never let his hands worship every single solitary inch of her frame with the barest of caresses.

For
this
Dom and
this
Raven, it would be the first time. There would be no memories to overshadow it.

His hands touched me everywhere, his lips and tongue following their path. He was a blind man that could only see me through physical contact, and he needed to learn every freckle, curve and dimple. I shuddered when he dipped his head and wrapped his mouth around my nipple. I arched my back into the sensation of his gentle sucking, needing each wet, greedy draw. He gripped me around the waist, pulling me closer into the reverence of his tongue and teeth, moaning with gratitude. When I felt the sheets hit my back, he moved down further, reacquainting himself with the jeweled barbell in my navel. His short fingernails gently scraped up and down my rib cage as he kissed every bit of my torso, sending tingling warmth to my core.

The sounds I was making were indecent, raw and unbelievably erotic, but they didn’t compare to the gruff moans and growls that rumbled in his throat as he savored my body. He seemed to take pleasure in making me squirm under his touch, as if it were enough for him. As if all he wanted was to make me pant his name as he spread my thighs, my flesh, and tasted me.

I held onto his hair, because not holding onto something wasn’t an option. I knew he had experience—much more than me—but I never imagined he would be this
good.
Then I began to wonder if he made every woman feel this way . . . this alive. I wondered if he made their knees quiver like this while propped up on his shoulders. But as the roughness of his tongue stroked the softness in me, I couldn’t find the strength to care.

I was so ready for him, and when he moved onto his knees, I could clearly see that he was just as ready for me. He was still fully dressed, and I felt a pang of guilt for not giving his body the attention it deserved. Against the tremble in my joints, I sat up and kneeled in front of him on the bed.

“What are you doing?” he asked as I began to unbutton his shirt.

“What does it look like?”

I frowned a bit, but it didn’t deter me. “I wanted this to be about you tonight. I want to take care of you.”

I fumbled with the last button then slipped the garment over his shoulders. “You do. You have. But now it’s my turn. I’ve waited too long for this chance, and I’m not going to waste it.”

His chest and abs were spectacular, as I knew they would be. Deep cuts of muscle under smooth, bronze skin were like marble underneath my fingertips. A short dusting of black hair ran from his belly button and disappeared into the waistband of his slacks. I leaned forward and kissed his chest, the skin like heated silk under my lips, and went for the clasp of his pants. I kissed him again, this time wetting a small, brown nipple with the flick of my tongue. He groaned and gripped the back of my head, spurring me on. I licked the other one, then raked my teeth down to his abs. I wanted more of him. I needed every glorious inch of the man I’d longed for since I was just a girl.

“Lie down,” I demanded, guiding him onto the bed.

Once he was flat on his back, I crawled up his body, resuming my tour of his torso. I laved each nipple thoroughly. I kissed every mound of muscle on his abs. Then I followed the little trail of dark hair with my tongue.

I worked on the buttons of his pants and moved them down his legs. His boxers were next to go, and he was only too eager to ease the strain that jumped and pulsed in my palm when I took hold. I put him to my lips, tasted the slickened skin from root to tip. His whole body trembled, and his breaths were reduced to short, jerky pants.

I had power over him. I was controlling his pleasure. And that revelation within itself was nearly enough to send me over the edge.

I worked him with my mouth and hands until he begged me to stop. And even then I tortured him a bit more. We laughed when he pulled me up from between his legs and flipped me over.

“You’re asking for trouble, aren’t you?” he grinned lazily, tousled hair falling into his eyes.

“If your name is Trouble, then yes. Yes, I am.”

He kissed me deep and long and so thoroughly that it was like being fucked. I couldn’t breathe, and I didn’t want to. I had surrendered to his sensual asphyxiation, had offered my life in exchange for his passion. It scared me how badly I wanted this—how desperately I needed him. He was my greatest fear and my most erotic fantasy, stripped raw and melded into one.

He was Trouble. And I wasn’t asking for him. I was begging.

I
’D LOST MY VIRGINITY
before I could read.

By the time I finished high school, I’d slept with more than half of the entire female student body, earning the moniker Dirty Dom.

In college, I had lived up to it, and then some.

But in this moment, with Raven’s body under me, all over me, I felt like I had been born again. I was renewed by a feeling so foreign and overwhelming, that I knew I would never be the same. Not after tonight.

I died inside her. I died and came back to life, only so I could live for her.

Every stroke was a gasp of air. Every kiss was a heartbeat. And every touch was seeing for the very first time.

I’d had wet. I’d had warm. But I’d never had this. Not with anyone. There was something undoubtedly innocent about her, although she obviously knew what she was doing. She touched me like she wanted every caress to count. Like she wanted her body—her soul—imprinted to mine. No one had ever wanted me like that. There were women that wanted to covet my body, my attention, my cock, but no one had ever made me feel like they wanted
me.

She touched my face and looked at me as I surged inside her. My first instinct was to close my eyes or look away, but I couldn’t. She wouldn’t let me. There was a peace in her glassy eyed-gaze, as if she could see the ugly inside me . . . could see the shame and regret and pain . . . and find beauty in it. Find life worth saving in all the rot and decay. She saw me in that ruin. And with her hands grasping my shoulders, her back arching to its peak, she saved me.

And I was
there.

Every second, every minute. Every sigh and gasp and groan, I was there with Raven. I felt her touch and kiss. I felt her softness surrounding me, sucking me deeper into bliss. I didn’t have to block it out—I didn’t want to. I was there because I wanted to be. I was there because I loved her.

We lay tangled in sheets damp with sweat, our bodies still glistening in afterglow. Everything felt different now, maybe because
I
felt different now. This would have been the part when I’d grab my pants, kiss the chick on the forehead and get the hell outta there. If I was feeling romantic, I’d bring her a washcloth. If I was hungry, I’d offer her a meal. It was always on my terms, always about what I wanted. And now, my needs were the furthest thing from my mind. No, that wasn’t true. My needs were wrapped up in pleasing Raven.

“What are you thinking?” she whispered, her voice raspy with exhaustion and strain. I liked that she wasn’t afraid to be vocal, yet she didn’t feel the need to be dramatic about it, in an attempt to stroke my ego. Most women I’d been with were like that. They thought that if they screamed the loudest or came the hardest, I’d somehow be encouraged to stay.

I rolled onto my side, propping myself up on an elbow so I could look at her. “Nothing. Everything.”

“That’s awfully vague.”

“Well, would you believe me if I said I was thinking about you?”

“And that’s awfully corny.”

She laughed, and I realized what a great laugh it was. It was the throaty kind that made her voice sound super sexy. And now that it was tinged with a touch of hoarseness, it was even more erotic. Damn, I could feel myself getting hard again.

“Seriously. I am. I’m thinking about you, and how that was beyond anything my imagination could have come up with.”

“Well, what did you think? That I had a third boob like that alien broad in
Total Recall?
”

I gave a one-shouldered shrug. “No, but if you did . . .”

“Don’t even say it,” she shook her head. “Because if you say tri-boobs gets your rocks off, I’m gonna have to ask you to leave.”

I let my fingers trail up her belly to caress the underside of her breast before pinching the nipple. “No, you wouldn’t.”

“Oh yeah? What makes you think I won’t?”

I guided a pebbled bud into my mouth while simultaneously moving between her legs. “Because I’ve got a few good reasons why you’d want me to stay.”

Saturday was Raven, and so was Sunday.

In truth, I wanted her to be everyday ending with Y.

But Monday . . .

Monday would not be claimed. She was a bitch that relented for no one. And even though I was still high off Saturday night, plus three times on Sunday, that internal solitude would not last. It wasn’t mine to keep. I should have known better.

Raven had picked up an evening shift at Dive, so I offered to drive Toby over after work. I could see he had something on his mind. The kid wasn’t stupid; he knew what his sister and I had been up to. And while he seemed okay with it, I needed him to know that my intentions were pure.

“So, you know I really care about your sister,” I said to him on the drive over to Dive. He cut his eyes at me and shrugged. “And you know that I would never do anything to hurt her or you.” A single nod. “I guess I just want you to know that I’m serious about her, and I want to be in both your lives. But if you’re not cool with it, just let me know. Okay?”

He nodded again, and then went for his pen and pad a minute later. When I was stopped at a red light, he passed me the note.