Page 41 of Hooked on Trouble

She blinks several times, then reaches forward and grips my shoulders. “I don’t like how stupid I was. I slept with boys when I didn’t want to. I nearly burned down a barn. There were horses inside, and I could have killed them.” Her voice drops lower. “You wouldn’t have liked me back then. I hardly liked myself.”

I run my hands up her thighs, grip the edges of her hipbones, and pull her closer. “Why did you do those things?”

“To fit in. To feel like people liked me. Why does anyone do stupid stuff?”

She answers too quickly, like there’s more to it than that, but I get it. The draw to feel wanted. Still, my whole life I’ve worked to avoid the things she regrets. If kids at school were up to no good, I’d walk the other way. When punks at the rec center stand too close to the edge, I sit them down and list every person from the neighborhood who’s dead or in jail, painting as clear a picture for them as I can.

The thought of Raven breaking laws is tough to swallow, but she didn’t have anyone to set her straight. No parents who cared enough or siblings to keep her in line. But she turned her life around, and if she hadn’t done those things, she probably wouldn’t be here right now, gripping my shoulders, telling me secrets, her body about to become mine.

I lean forward and press a kiss to the ugly tattoo. “Our past choices shape us, but our future ones define us. I wouldn’t change a thing about you. Now give me your right shoe.”

She glances down. “Do shoes count as clothing?”

“In my game, they do. I still have lots of questions.”

An eye roll later, she has one shoe off and is seated again. For the next while we swap stories and shed clothing. Shed our boundaries. My feelings for her morph into something bigger than this moment. She tells me about the pirate ship on her back, how she dreamed of sailing the seas as a kid, away from home. She also wanted an eye patch and a peg leg. I tell her about the stars across my lower abdomen, the largest for my mother, then two for my siblings, the smallest two for Jack and Colin. The vines up her left leg are woven with feathers, symbols of her First Nations heritage. Telling her about the large Libra scale on my back is the hardest. Weights and measures. Choices. How easy it is to tip the balance. I got it after I sent my father to jail. It reminds me there’s no gray area. Only right and wrong.

She clams up once. When I ask about the dragonfly on her right ribs, she says, “Not yet.” Two words that I respect. The small insect has bright red eyes, and its wings are burning. I’m guessing it’s linked to her sister taking off.

After a spell, all that’s left are her thong and my boxers. Her pink nipples are tight, begging to be touched. Licked. The head of my cock pokes out of the top of my briefs, so fucking hard. The air buzzes between us, along with silence. We stare, take our fill, neither of us asking more questions. We’re both ready for what comes next.

Twelve

Raven

As mesmerizing as Nico’s ink is, I can’t look away from the beast between his legs. My underwear has been wet since our potluck, this game of his heightening my arousal. And feeding my soul. Like in Aspen, sharing my broken pieces with him opens a floodgate of emotion. The more I say, the more I want to divulge. Unload every story that’s been locked up for so many years and confess that, although I admitted a fraction of my feelings in his truck, I’m truly terrified to fall for him.

But I don’t confess. I couldn’t even share my worst story. It lodged in my throat, that dragonfly forever a reminder of what I did. The damage I caused. Thoughts I’d rather not face tonight. Right now all I need is to have his skin touching mine.

And to get those boxers off.

My gaze shoots to my bag on the floor, then back to his barely contained erection. “So…I brought Shay’s condoms. But since you’re so”—mammoth, huge, terrifyingly large—“big, I’m not sure they’re the right size.”

Grinning, he reaches down and pulls a foil packet from his jeans on the floor.

“Come here.” He widens his legs, and I don’t waste a second.

Breasts loose, I straddle him on his chair, nothing but two thin pieces of fabric between us. And God, the feel of him. It took all of two minutes for him to make me come against that wall, the world tipping sideways. I’m not sure how I’ll handle being filled with his girth. He trails kisses down my neck, his hands spanning the width of my back, and he takes my nipple into his mouth. Moaning, I drop my head back and arch into him, his wet mouth busy on my body. So freaking good.

Rotating my hips, I lower my hand. The tip of his cock sticks out of his boxers, a few drops of pre-come glistening on the crown, and I spread it around. He hisses out a breath. Next thing I know, he’s on his feet with me around his waist, carrying me like I weigh nothing. The comforter gets ripped off, and we’re in the middle of the bed, Nico above me, lust etched in his weighty gaze.

He pauses. “You’re the prettiest thing I’ve ever seen.”

My throat burns too hot to speak.

“You sure you’re ready for me.” This time his voice rumbles.

Forget being afraid to fall for him. I’m already gone. “I hope so.”

That’s all the answer he needs. He peels off my thong and stands to remove his boxers. The second his cock springs free, heat spikes between my thighs. His eyelids fall heavy, the ridges of his abs contracting with his breath. Shadows flex from the grooves of his hipbones as he tears the foil packet and rolls on the condom.

My memories from Aspen were spot on—he’s Thor’s hammer huge.

“Is this the part where you tell me not to worry? That objects appear larger from this angle?” My attempt at levity falters under my shaky voice. I’m no virgin, but my body has never accommodated something that size.

Gripping the base of his shaft, he kneels on the bed and nudges my knees apart. His eyes flick up to mine, that usual liquid ocean now blue flame. “This is the part where I show you how good a man can make a woman feel.”

Then he pushes in.