Page 39 of Hooked on Trouble

Raven’s shoulders stiffen at the mention of Hastings. She’s been there. She knows the types that live in the area. As do I. I’ve been so focused on helping her and getting my mind right, I didn’t stop to consider the implications. Sure, emotionally, this was bound to be tough, but connecting with her sister could mean learning truths better left ignored. The bad elements I worried about might still shove their way into Raven’s life.

Lead settles in my gut, but this isn’t about me. I owe Raven my trust, and she has so much riding on this. She’s built Rose up in her mind for seventeen years. That comes with expectations, hopes that could go up in smoke.

I school my features. “You have an address?”

Clara shakes her head as a waft of curry hits my nose. I fight the urge to gag. Once we say our thanks, I pull Raven after me, inhaling the damp air outside like I’ve been drowning. My gym bag smells better than that.

“Indian food is amazing. I bet if you tried it, the smell wouldn’t bother you so much.”

“How about I take your word for it.” Give me meat and potatoes any day. I scratch my wig and suck in a few more breaths. “Looks like our search continues.”

She’s back to picking her cuticles, her shoulders nearing her ears. “We’re getting closer, though. Can you find the address? Or I can look it up back home.”

“I got this, babe. Don’t worry about a thing.” I press my lips to hers, and she hums against me. Two gentle kisses later, her posture relaxes, but I’m still leery. I pull my phone from my back pocket. “I’ll send Alessi the name. Get him to put it in the system and see if we get any hits.”

She grabs her skirt and swings from side to side. “That’s awful kind of you, Spirit.”

Raven keeps hamming it up, swaying her shoulders and giving me bedroom eyes. Likely masking the turmoil still brewing in her mind. Hopefully we’re both overacting. Clara’s shifty behavior was probably because of my ridiculous outfit, this wig enough to put anyone on edge.

Either way, Raven needs a distraction. I could use one, too. One that doesn’t involve the virginal role she’s playing. I spent a night with her in Aspen—her nails left marks on my neck, and memories of her sexy moans kept me up nights afterward. She may have been too drunk to remember much of what we did, but I wasn’t. I remember it all.

“I need us back at that hotel,” I say, my voice gruff.

She licks her lips. “Yes, please.”

I rip off my hat and wig and drive faster than an off-duty cop should.

* * *

She’s out her side of the car before I come to a complete stop, her door slamming as I pull my keys from the ignition. If she thinks she’s as desperate as I am to get naked, she doesn’t have a clue. She races up the steps to the motel’s second story, teasing me by turning twice. Each time a new button on her dress has been undone, and I quicken my strides. Her key is in the lock when I reach her.

She swings the door wide, but I grab her hips from behind and pull her against me. “I want you so fucking bad.” Her dress is soft, the fabric sliding over her curves as she rubs against me, her ass pressed to my thighs. I can’t get close enough. I cup her breast and bite her neck and walk us forward into the room. Kicking the door shut, I spin her around, latch an arm around her waist, and haul her to me. My lips are on hers in seconds. She grips my neck, the flat of our tongues connecting as our kiss deepens. Moans trade, teeth bump. I’m hungry for her. Starving. Like nothing I’ve ever felt.

She comes up for air and sucks a trail down my neck. “I’m so wet,” she says against my pulse.

The throbbing point nearly tears through my neck.

I grab her ass and lift her up. Sensing what I’m after, she latches her legs around my waist. Her heels dig into my hips, her thin dress riding up, her underwear nothing but air between us. Grunting, I push her back into the wall and grind into her. A picture frame rattles.

“Jesus, you’re hard.” She rolls her hips into my growing cock, my zipper ready to bust. Another hip rotation, and I see double.

“That’s all you.” I rub against her. “That’s what you do to me.” I bite her neck.

She wiggles around, dropping her pelvis to get me exactly where she wants me, my confined erection hitting her sweet spot. All I want is for her to feel good, better than good. For her to get off on me, like this, her legs and arms around my body, my mouth on hers. Watch her fall apart before I strip every item of clothing off her and start again.

We move in time, her riding me, me grinding against her. Kissing gets messy—just lips and tongue and a lot of groaning. Needing to touch her, I slip my hand between us. Her underwear is drenched, the tender flesh below soft. Wet. Glorious. I sink one then two fingers inside her, using my thumb to coil her tighter and push her further and give her what she needs.

What I crave.

“God, I’m…” Her words are muffled against my neck. “I’m so…” Again they slip down my skin, but I think she says she’s close.

I roll my hips once, twice, as if we’re having sex, and my hand mirrors the movement, rocking into her. She rocks back. Raven isn’t a woman who gives herself freely. Growing up with her parents’ negligence must have been like marinating in bitterness. Her sister’s abandonment toughened her skin. With me, she’s thawing, letting me glimpse the girl beneath the attitude. It lights a fire low in my gut.

She squeezes her knees into my ribs, her nails raking my neck. “God, Nico. I’m so…” She cries out then, high-pitched and animal, her teeth clamping my shoulder as her legs tremble around me. I hold her up. I always will. When she’s spent, her body still, she sinks her full weight on my hips.

I keep her pressed to the wall, my balls aching and my dick rock hard. I kiss her collarbone, the hollow at the base of her neck, the tender spot below her ear as I ease my fingers out. “You’re sexy as hell when you come.”

She reaches between us and runs her hand over my cock. “If that’s what you can do with our clothes on, I’m dying to know what happens when the beast is unleashed.”