Catching Raven (22 page)

He steps back, confused by my outburst. “Why are you so upset? I meant it
when I said I was coming back for you.”

“Yeah, and I meant it when I said don’t bother.” I duck under his arm and
put some much-needed space between us. No way am I going to let him charm me
out of my common sense. I grind my teeth together, debating where to begin.

“You are the most impulsive, exasperating son-of-a-bitch I’ve ever met.
Certifiably crazy and unforgivably stubborn. You had no business coming out
here and putting me in this position, assuming I’d be okay with it. And now
you’ve given me no choice. Do you think that’s fair? I’m out here trying to
make it on my own, and all of a sudden you barge in without any warning and
expect me to forgive and forget. You still haven’t apologized for all the
heartache you put me through last time.
Or
the time before that.”

“Relax,” he says calmly, walking towards me. “I wasn’t banking on you
agreeing to this, and I wasn’t trying to derail any of your dreams or hard
work. I’m out here to pursue art. Yes, obviously you’re a major reason why I
chose this location, but as per usual, it isn’t all about you.”

“Don’t even—”

He presses his index finger against my lips. “Shut up and let me finish.”

I narrow my gaze and reconsider kicking him out. He cups my face and
tilts it upward, his eyes burning with emotion.

“You should know that I reached this decision after I took a step back
from you—from us. I had to dismantle our relationship in order to find my
identity. You’ve had yours figured out from the very beginning, but for me, it
wasn’t so simple. I was lost. But I’m not anymore and you’re partially to
blame. Being around you, seeing how fearless you are when it comes to your
dreams, it’s made me more ambitious. I’ve always admired you, even when we were
in high school. But then I fell in love with you, and everything else became a
thousand times more inspiring. You’re my muse, Rave. Not just in art, but in
life.”

That is by far the greatest compliment I’ve ever received.

Ugh, it’s so hard to stay mad at him when he opens up.

“So here’s the plan; I’m going to hunt for a place of my own, and when I
get settled in, I’m going to start taking you out on dates and apologizing
profusely until you learn to like me again. Third time’s a charm.” He pauses.
“Or in our case, maybe the fourth.” He shakes his head and refocuses.
“Whatever. We’re bound to get it right eventually.”

“And what if we break up?” I ask.

“What if I just marry you instead?”

Hope blooms in my chest.
Not so fast
. “Be serious.”

“I am. This is it for me. I know it’ll take a while to prove that to you,
but I’ll spend as much time as it takes earning your trust back. I love you.
And it’s time I started treating you that way. I never wanted to hurt you, but
I was convinced I had to do everything on my own. I learned not to depend on
anyone because almost every person in my life was unreliable. But you never
should’ve been grouped into that category. For that, I’m sorry.”

“Where are you going to stay in the meantime?”

“I was planning on sleeping in the truck.”

“You drove out here?”

He nods. “Had to have at least
one
duck in the row. Besides, I
wanted to bring my stuff. The rest of it is chillin’ at my mom’s place until
further notice.”

“You know I’m not going to let you sleep in the truck, right? Not after
you drove all the way out here.”

“I was secretly hoping you’d say that.”

“You can take the floor and I’ll take the futon. Once I like you again,
I’ll consider sharing the bed.”

“Give me twenty-four hours,” he says with a gleam in his eye.

“Don’t push it.”

He smiles and leans forward to press his lips into mine.

I jerk back. “What did I just say?”

“I already have heaps of bullshit to make up for anyway. Might as well
put this one on my tab and make it worth the extra floor time.”

Before I can protest, he kisses me. I inhale sharply. My eyes flutter
closed and my hands slide around the back of his neck, pulling him closer,
deepening the kiss. He breaks it and stares down at me, grinning like he just
got everything he ever wanted. I grab the chain around his neck and yank him
back to me. His hands grip my waist and boost me up onto the kitchen counter.
He nudges himself between my legs and resumes kissing. We’re all frantic hands
and hungry mouths, heated breaths and blissful sighs. With every searing touch,
he fills me back up, reviving me. Our clothes disintegrate. My back meets the
floor with a thud. Eric hovers, his chest rising and falling as rapidly as my
heart’s beating.

“Totally worth the ire,” he concludes.

Given my current position, I have to agree.

His plants my hands on either side of my head and interlaces our fingers.
My legs reflexively wrap around his torso. I stare longingly into his arctic
eyes. The natural light pouring in from the windows intensifies the color. I
want those eyes fixated on me forever. Without warning, he rocks his hips
forward and takes me. My back arches in response. His moves are forceful,
dominant. My skin burns against the rough carpet, the sensations rippling
throughout my body.

I love him, I love him, I love him,
is all I can think with each
powerful thrust.

As if he can read my thoughts, he kisses me hard and passionate. His
mouth swallows up my euphoric cries. Once I peak, he follows me there in a
series of shudders.

Then we collapse.

We lay together in a sticky, sweaty mess, waiting for our hearts to stop
racing and our breathing to slow. His cheek is pressed against my chest, my
fingertips lightly tracing the contours of his back. He moans in satisfaction.

“Surely you like me after that?” he mutters.

I laugh and use my weight to roll him off me and lay back. He leans up on
an elbow and stares down at me with appreciation. He drops a kiss on my
shoulder and brushes a stray hair out of my face.

“For the record, I really wasn’t kidding about marrying you. When you’re
done with design school, I’m pulling the trigger.”

“Calm down. You haven’t even gained access to the futon yet.”

“Twenty-three hours and forty-six minutes to go.”

I twist my head. “You’re that convinced, huh?”

“You’re
not?
”

Truth is, I am.

But just for fun, I’m going to make him suffer.

e     r     i    
c

I can’t take my eyes off of my girl.
Every time she sleeps, I have to pinch myself because it still doesn’t feel
real that we’re back together. I’ve missed waking up to her every single
morning. Making her breakfast, telling her how much I love her, how beautiful
she is. Those things never get old. I’ve finally gained access to the bed,
which means she likes me again. Sort of. I’m sure I’ll be kicked to the floor
in no time. All the more reason to hurry up and get a different place. As much
as I enjoy living here with Rave, it’s too cramped and the floor is wreaking
havoc on my back. She may not know it yet, but she’s coming with me. We’re
upgrading to a one-bedroom apartment, even if it means I have to work two jobs
to swing the rent.

As each day passes, another piece of our trust restores. I can tell she
half-expects me to dip out, but I’m not going anywhere. Not this time. I’m more
than capable of opening up and being what she needs from here on out. Soon
she’ll realize that. And now that she’s technically slumming it, she needs my
help more than ever.

Dr. Coleman and I set up a Skype session so he can get caught up on
everything that’s happened. Unfortunately, because my mother lives in Texas,
family therapy has been put on hold. To make up for that, she and I have been
keeping in touch. She wants to fly out and meet Raven. I’m slowly warming up to
the idea. Raven’s all for it, but we’ll see. Might as well get it over with, I
guess. Introducing them sooner rather than later means we can all move forward.
Barring any catastrophes, they’ll be in-laws.

I know I said I’d wait until she’s done with design school before popping
the question, but I lied. It’ll be in six months when we go home for Christmas.
I’ve already found the ring and started planning. Six months may seem
premature, but what can I say? If there’s one person who I want to spend the
rest of my life chasing, it’s her. She deserves an epic love story, and I’m
going to give her fleeting glimpses of one. It’ll be
just
within her
reach.

Out of the corner of my eye, I notice her stirring beneath the covers. A
heavy yawn escapes her lips. I quietly wander over and sit down on the edge of
the bed. The mattress dips beneath my weight, disturbing her. Sleepy brown eyes
pop open.

“Morning,” I greet, using my free hand to run my fingers through her
hair.

She blinks a few times, then rolls onto her back and stretches, providing
a spectacular view of her curves.

“Is that coffee in your hand?” she asks.

“Absolutely not.”

“Liar. Hand it over.”

“Get your own,” I feign offense.

“How hot is it?”

“Scorching. Like our sex last night.”

It was downright filthy. The things this girl can do to me, there’s no
equivalent. She rules my heart, and my body.

Her muscles relax into the sheets and her eyes glaze over with a dreamy
haze.

I take a sip of coffee. “You’re thinking about it, aren’t you?”

“Nope. Thinking about that cup of coffee.”

I lower the mug from my face and scowl.

Do you see what I have to put up with?

She props herself up on her forearms, clearly in a mood to negotiate.
“Give me a few sips of that coffee, and I’ll let you crawl back into this bed
and do whatever you want.”

Oh, hell yes.
She
can have the entire pot. All of it. With an attitude like that, I’ll fly to
Colombia and buy her some of the world’s finest.

Undying love: it often comes in the form of caffeine.

With a steady hand, I pass off the mug. She steals it and takes a few
sips.

“Drink faster,” I order.

She closes her eyes, savoring the taste. Pretty sure she’s doing that on
purpose. She’ll pay for that later. When they reopen, she gives me a
sleepy-eyed, tousle-haired, sexy-but-insanely-cute smile. It’s my favorite
look, favorite feature, favorite everything. Cue another mental snapshot.

“That’s enough coffee.” I pry the mug from her fingers and set it down on
the floor.

“Hey! I wasn’t finished,” she protests.

“Yes, you are.”

I crawl onto the bed, grab her upper arms, and roll us over so she’s on
top.

She stares down at me with naughty eyes. “Tell me you love me,” she
demands.

“No way.”

She leans down to kiss my neck. Her hot breath tickles my skin, causing
my entire body to erupt in chills. She travels further up the side, nipping my
earlobe. Soft palms caress my chest.

“Say it,” she exhales into my ear.

“You say it first.”

She brings her face close to mine so we’re nose to nose. She bites her
lip to stifle a grin. The energy is contagious. Like the sucker I am, I succumb
and give her exactly what she wants. I can only deny the woman for so long.

“I love you.”

I’m rewarded with another knockout smile. “Love you,
too, baby.”

If I’m lucky enough, I’ll have the privilege of hearing those words every
day until we bite the dust. There’ll be a few other choice words thrown in
there, too, I’m sure. But then again, I suppose she’s worth the hassle.

A big thank you to Lisa Cerasoli, who
was the very first person to see my potential and pipe up. You arguably put
just as much hard work into this novel as I did. Thank you for pushing me (and
boy did you push me on this one). It never ceases to amaze me how far you go
for your clients. Two books down, countless more to go! As always, love you
long time.

Thank you to Danielle Canfield,
Lisa’s editorial assistant, for your critiques and hard work on the interior.
I’m so pleased with how it turned out.

To Ken Atchity for taking another
chance on my work. I can’t even begin to tell you how much I appreciate the
creative freedom you allow us authors to express at Story Merchant. Best of
both worlds.

To Sarah Hansen at Okay Creations for
a breathtaking cover. I told you exactly what I wanted, and you captured it
brilliantly. So excited to work with you again on future projects.

To Anthony Fenner, your street art
and lifestyle loosely            inspired Eric.

To all the bloggers who read and
reviewed this book, I can’t thank you enough. You ladies are the backbone to an
author’s career. Real talk.

To my proofreaders, Carol Blodgett,
Sandy Knott, Jamie Melton, Vicky Stafford, Cassie Nania, Rikki Schechinger, and
Heather Brown: You girls rock. Thank you for all the time and effort you’ve
spent critiquing my novel and giving me feedback.

To my parents, John Smith and Carole
Lund-Smith, for supporting me along this journey and encouraging me to pursue
what I love.

To my brother, Zach Smith, for always
encouraging me to take risks and challenge myself. I know you’re patiently
waiting for a non-romance book. It’s coming, I promise.

To my boyfriend, Ben Pratt, who deals
with my shit on a daily basis. You are my rock. Thanks for putting up with the
endless roller coaster of emotions, and for always believing in me, even when I
don’t always believe in myself. Olive juice.

And last but certainly not least,
thank you to all the readers who’ve read, reviewed, and asked for more of my
books. The feeling is indescribable. You are the reason I love what I do.