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“Can I stay with you?” I blurt before I lose the nerve. “I mean for a little while? I promise I won’t get in your way. I just… I have nowhere else to go until classes resume, and she made it clear she doesn’t want me there. I’ll get a job. I’ll clean or cook. I’ll stay out of your way. I promise I won’t be any trouble. But I’m not ready to go back to Boston yet. I have something to do here first.”
“What do you have to do?” he asks, his expression sharp, hawkish…almost as intense as the question. And wow. If that’s how he looks at suspects, he’s probably good at his job. I’m not even a criminal, and I’m ready to confess.
“I need to find out who killed my dad,” I say, squaring my shoulders.
“You need to find out who killed your dad,” he repeats.
“Yes.” I lift my chin in a show of bravery. Inside, my stomach quivers, and my heart beats a million miles a minute. I feel like I’m facing down Goliath. Only Goliath is a cop with a badge and the authority to arrest me. Or, at the very least, the power to turn me into the authorities who can arrest me.
“Why?” he asks, tilting his head to the side like I’m a mystery he’s dying to solve.
“Because when I was five, I was terrified of the monsters under my bed,” I say. “I thought they wanted to hurt me. My dad would come over every night and sleep in my room just so I’d sleep. This went on for two months straight. He barely got any sleep at all, but he did it so I could sleep. Now, I’ve learned there are actual monsters out there, only they weren’t after me. They were after him. They killed him. And he won’t rest easy until someone finds them. So until they’re behind bars where they belong, I won’t sleep either.”
“Jesus,” Rhys whispers, his eyes turning dark.
“It’s been three months. Seattle has no leads, no suspects, nothing. It’s like they aren’t even looking.” I push my hair back from my face, and the blanket slips. Rhys’s gaze immediately falls to my chest. I’m still naked, my clothes forgotten on the bathroom floor. We never put the others on me. I swallow hard as he stares at me, his gaze locked on my exposed breast.
Is it my imagination, or did he just groan?
My nipple hardens, my flesh pebbling at the hungry, absorbed look on his face. No one has ever looked at me like he is right now. I squeeze my legs together, aching for things I know not to even consider. And yet I do consider them. In the dark of night, when the lights are off, I consider them all too often. How this man would feel above me. How he would taste. If his hands would glide roughly across my skin or if he’d be gentle. I think about him and touch myself. I moan his name and come apart in the dark, my own little secret. My own hidden shame.
I want him with an intensity that frightens me. It surpasses everything—music, a future on stage, the ache to have a big family. I’d give it all up for even a taste of this man. Some strong, independent woman I am, right? Willing to set aside everything I’ve ever dreamed about for even a moment with the one man I shouldn’t want.
If my dad were here, he would never forgive me. He’d never forgive Rhys.
And yet I want him anyway.
“Cover up, songbird.”
“Why?” I ask, suddenly defiantly angry. At him for not feeling the same way. At the universe for putting him in my path and placing him just out of reach. At Marnie for leaving me no choice but to come here. At…everything. “Does my body offend you?”
“Just cover up, Raven.” He turns to face the opposite direction.
“Fine.” I roll my eyes and yank the blanket up over my shoulder, clutching it to my chest like a wrap. “You can look now. All my rolls and parts are carefully tucked away so they don’t blind you.” I gather the clothes he collected for me in my free hand and climb to my feet, my throat burning with unshed tears. I’m acting like a brat, and that’s not me.
I don’t like it much. But a thousand different emotions all clamor for attention at once, throwing me off balance. I feel rejected and confused. I’m exhausted and sad. I desperately miss my dad. My stepmom kicked me out and cut me off. She lied to me. And I’m here, asking for help from the one man I should be staying far, far away from.
No, I’m not acting like myself. Right now, I’m not even sure who I am anymore.
I quietly slip past him to get dressed. At least that’s my plan. Before I even make it two steps, he grabs me from behind. His arms are like vises around me, inexorably dragging me back into the broad wall of his chest. Even though I know I can’t break his hold, I struggle anyway.
“You’ve been through hell today, so I’m going to let your little attitude slide,” he rasps in my ear, his voice gritty. “But we’re going to get one thing straight right now, princess. The only thing about your body that offends me is the fact that I don’t know what every gorgeous inch of it tastes like.”
I gasp, going limp in his arms as shock drains the fight right out of me.
“You’re ravishing, and you know it. But you’re Brant’s daughter, and I’m trying real hard to be a gentleman here and pretend my cock hasn’t been hard for you since you were eighteen,” he says. “So I need you to keep that beautiful body covered while you’re here, or your daddy’s ghost is going to rip my balls out through my throat.”
“Rhys, what–?”
His lips brush my temple, cutting me off before I can even figure out what I’m trying to ask him. What in the world is happening? What is he saying? What dream is this? I don’t know, and I don’t get the chance to figure it out.
“Go put on some clothes and then come back out here, songbird,” he says, gently setting me away from him. “We need to talk.”
I stumble from the room on weak legs.
What the heck just happened?
