Page 8 of Wraith’s Betrayal

She moved into the kitchen, and vanilla filled the air—some lotion she used that was driving me insane. "Bad dreams?"

"Something like that."

"Want to talk about it?"

I finally turned, immediately regretting it. Her hair was a mess of waves, cheek still creased from the couch cushion, my shirt hanging off one shoulder. She looked thoroughly debauched, like I'd already had my hands on her. My cock went from interested to demanding.

"No." The word came out harsher than intended.

Hurt flickered across her features before she masked it. "Okay." She turned to reach for a mug, and the shirt rode up again, flashing the bottom curve of her ass. No underwear. Jesus fucking Christ.

The doorbell saved me from doing something stupid. Except it was seven in the morning, and nobody visited this early unless⁠—

"Open up, asshole. I know you're awake."

Blade.

Raven's eyes went wide. She was still wearing just my shirt. I know how this would look if Blade saw that.

"Bedroom. Now." I was already moving to the door, buying her time.

She ran, bare feet slapping on hardwood, my shirt riding up to flash her perfect ass. The image would be burned into my brain forever. I adjusted myself, grabbed a dish towel to hold strategically, and opened the door.

"Bit early for social calls," I said, blocking the doorway.

Blade pushed past me anyway, already dressed for the day in jeans and his cut. "Tiffany needed the apartment. Something about deep cleaning and me being in the way." He collapsed on my couch—the same couch where Raven had just been sleeping, where her scent still lingered. "Figured I'd hang here until the coast is clear."

"How long?"

"Hour, maybe two." He studied me with those too-sharp eyes. "You look like shit."

"Thanks."

"Raven keeping you up? I know she's been having nightmares. Used to have them as a kid too, after our mom died."

I didn't know about nightmares. She hadn't mentioned them, but then we were both carefully maintaining distance during daylight hours. At least until we inevitably ended up too close, breathing the same air, fighting the pull. "She's fine."

"She up yet?"

"Shower," I lied, just as the bathroom door closed loudly. Good girl.

Blade relaxed into the couch, and I saw him notice things. Raven's book on the coffee table. Her sweater draped over the chair. Her coffee mug from yesterday still sitting by the window. Little pieces of her invasion that I hadn't even noticed accumulating.

"She's comfortable here," he observed.

"It's temporary."

"Right." He grabbed the remote, flipping on ESPN. "Mind if I make some eggs? I'm starving."

"Go for it."

While he banged around my kitchen, I tried not to think about Raven naked in my shower. Water sluicing over those dangerous curves, soap sliding down her skin, her hands touching places I wanted to map with my tongue. My hands clenched, and I forced myself to focus on the game highlights Blade had turned on.

"You following the season?" Blade asked from the kitchen.

"Not really." Hard to focus on baseball when his sister was slowly driving me insane.

He cracked eggs into a pan. "Maybe you could help Raven with her resume. She's got that interview at the bank today."