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“Reno…” His name as it left her lips filled him with pleasure. Even sleeping, she knew where she belonged.
chapter 4
she had slept with Reno Chavez.
She hadn’t just slept with him, she had been taken by him. Held by him. Fucked senseless, to be honest, she snapped silently.
Raven leaned on the kitchen counter the next morning, her head cradled in her arms as she waited for the coffee to finish, for the rich fragrance teasing her senses to become an elixir that would hopefully clear her head. Bring her sanity back. It would be really nice if it could turn back time.
She moaned pitifully.
She couldn’t even claim she’d been drunk; she hadn’t so much as touched a beer while at Morganna’s. She had been stone-cold sober until Reno kissed her. Until his hands stroked her body, bringing her nerve endings to life and a ravenous hunger clawing at her womb.
She pressed her thighs together at the memory, hating the feel of her loose shorts rasping against her flesh. She wanted Reno’s hands. Even the loose shirt was uncomfortable on her sensitive body. She could strip it off. She could undress, go to him.… She gritted her teeth in mental refusal.
She was not going to think about it. She was not going to relive each and every slow slide of his cock inside her vagina, stroking the pulsing nerves there, stretching her, filling her, making her burn.…
Her fists clenched as she rolled her forehead against her arm.
She couldn’t have made a bigger mistake if she had actually put effort into coming up with one. Sleeping with Reno was tantamount to jumping from a plane without a parachute. It wasn’t just risky; it was suicide to her emotional well-being.
He had been hardheaded as a boy, bossy as a young man, and now he was so firmly dominant, it was enough to make her teeth clench. What happened to the nice young man who put Band-Aids on her knees and bought her ice pops from the corner store? Why did he have to become the big tough SEAL who insisted on a career that risked his life every time he went to work?
“Dumb. Dumb. Dumb,” she muttered as she lifted her head, staring at the slow stream of black liquid that ran into the carafe.
“When are you going to break down and buy a real coffee-maker?”
She stiffened at Reno’s amused voice, refusing to turn and face him, to stare at that incredibly sexy body. The same one that had risen over her last night, pushing between her thighs as he filled her with the hard, broad flesh of his cock. She shivered at the memory.
“This one works,” she mumbled. And it had been her mother’s before she died five years before.
There was no way she was going to consider facing the day without coffee. She needed it. It was essential. Otherwise, she was going to melt into a puddle of aroused goo before she ever managed to push Reno out the door.
He grunted noncommittally behind her.
“We’ll get a coffee grinder later and some fresh beans. I’ll make you some real coffee.”
Turning her head slowly from the shelter of her arms, she stared back at him. Over six feet of lean, smooth, hard muscle. Damn him. He wasn’t wearing a shirt. His chest, with its smattering of hair, was displayed in all its dark glory, muscles shifting, tempting, encouraging.…
“Don’t you have a bed to buy or something?” She straightened quickly, jerked a cup from the hook on the wall, and prayed the dark brew would hurry. She had to clear her head, or she was never going to make it through the day.
“Are you trying to run me off, Raven?” She could hear the grin in his voice, see it when she glanced back at him.
“Yes,” she snapped desperately. “I am. I can’t deal with you this morning. Go torture Morganna.”
Like she thought for a minute that he was going to do that. She should have known better, she told herself frantically. He had warned her that last time, when he woke her with a kiss, looming over her like a tide of passion, that her days were numbered. She had tried to convince herself he wasn’t serious. She should have known better.
“I don’t think so, baby. Do you think I’m going to let you run me off this soon?”
Uh-oh.
She blinked back at him as his expression hardened, his gray eyes turning stormy. She knew that look, and it did not bode well for getting rid of him.
“How soon, then?” She slammed the cup to the counter and jerked the pot from under the small stream inching into it to rapidly fill the cup.
She brought the cup to her lips and sipped too quickly. The hot liquid burned her tongue, but it did nothing to erase the remembered feel of his touch.
“Damn, Clint was right, you’re a grouch in the morning,” he stated as he moved to the pot himself, causing her to back away quickly. If he touched her, she was a goner.
