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She jerked the red silk and lace thong panties and bra from her drawer and pulled them on, knowing they looked good on her. Sexy and hot. They made her feel wicked and wild. Almost as wicked and wild as Reno made her feel.
Biting her lip, her hands moved slowly, cupping her swollen breasts as her thumbs rasped over her distended nipples. She closed her eyes and could almost feel him touching her, making the heated burn ignite fiercely in the depths of her womb.
He wasn’t supposed to do this to her. Make her miss him so desperately, make her wish she could accept as easily as he did. But he wasn’t the one who would be left to pace the floors, to fill with anger. And that was the part that terrified her. She didn’t want to be like her mother, always angry or depressed, terrified when she heard the sound of a vehicle coming up the drive.
Reno and Morganna’s parents had died six years before in a car accident. Together. There had been no government condolences, no questions were ever answered regarding how they died. Where they died. The questions Raven’s mother had asked every day until her death.
She plucked the sexy little black dress she loved so much out of her closet as the past ate at her soul with a hollow ache. The dress fell halfway down her thighs, the thin straps barely covering the bra straps as the bodice draped over her breasts. The shimmery black silk felt good on her, looked good on her.
She paired it with the high-heeled, black strappy sandals and drew in a deep breath before shoving keys, cash, and ID into a minuscule purse and heading downstairs.
She wasn’t married. She didn’t have to sit at home and pace the floors and she damned sure didn’t have to worry about Reno Chavez or his perceptions and arrogance. Let him sit and brood if he wanted to. She was going to play.
* * *
She was bored out of her ever-loving mind, but she wasn’t going to admit it to Morganna, who had joined her on her little evening adventure.
“Reno’s going to be pissed” was Morganna’s only objection to the night’s activities as they walked into the small club, the pulse of the music surrounding them, the smoky atmosphere dim and not nearly as appealing as Raven tried to pretend it was.
“He’ll live,” she snapped. “Your brother is entirely too dominant, Morganna. And I’m still pissed at you for letting your friends use his bed.”
“Of course he’s dominant,” Morganna laughed as they made their way through the crowd to the back of the club and a lone empty table. “He wouldn’t do what he does if he wasn’t. Admit it, Raven, it’s one of the things you love about him.”
It was one of the things that terrified her about him.
“No, that’s what you love about Clint.” She took her chair and looked around impatiently for the waitress. “I like my men a little safer. You know, Morg, the ‘stay at home and hearth’ type of guy?”
She waved the waitress over, impatient to get on with forgetting about Reno and his arrogant my-way-or-no-way attitude.
“You like fooling yourself is what you like,” Morganna laughed after they gave the waitress their drink orders. “But you go right ahead. I like watching Reno in action. He’s smooth. Clint should take lessons.”
Raven directed a dark look at her friend.
“Drop the subject. I’m here to have a good time, not to talk about Reno.”
She danced with the first man who asked, not the up close, slow and sway, but a fast hard beat that filled her veins and allowed he
r to ignore the memories threatening to overwhelm her senses.
She sat out the slower dances, a rare occurrence for her, which only made her angrier. But she couldn’t stand the thought of another man holding her, not yet. God, how pathetic was that, she wondered as she moved to the hard beat echoing through the club.
She swayed in time to songs, her hair flowing down her back, caressing her upper shoulders, reminding her of Reno’s touch. She closed her eyes and saw his face, only to snap them open and glare at her present partner.
She glanced across the room and her heart shuddered in her chest as she swore she caught a glimpse of him moving through the crowd. No one could move like Reno, with a male predatory grace that drew the eye and had women panting to rub against him like cats.
Shaking her head, she pushed the suspicion away.
She didn’t know why she was letting this affect her so drastically. The physical attraction had bloomed between them for years now. She had known that she would eventually end up beneath Reno in bed; she just hadn’t expected the raw power of it.
She moved back as the rawboned, broad young man she was dancing with reached out to clasp her hip, flashing him an irritated frown when he pouted back at her. She wasn’t in the mood to be groped. She wanted to dance, expend the energy pulsing in her body, and forget about the one man she knew would be cemented in her brain forever now.
As the band paused, preparing to strike up another number, a hard hand suddenly gripped her wrist, pulling her around as she gasped in surprise.
Oh hell. Reno was pissed.
She stared up at him, aware of the immediate hardening of her nipples and their ultrasensitivity against the lace of her bra. Between her thighs, her clit began to throb with the same furious, hard beat of her heart.
“Well, fancy seeing you here,” she yelled out above the music as he began to drag her across the dance floor. “Let me guess, Morganna called you.”
