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“I wasn’t a part of his crew.”
“I don’t understand. You’re tattoo means—”
“Chet used to be a part ofmycrew,” I snap. “The Red Ravens were mine until I let him take over.”
Chapter 5
Raquel
Three days. Three more days pass and I still don’t hear from Dad.
Three days since my almost kiss with Gabriel in the kitchen.
Three days since he turned on his heels without further explanation, leaving me both confused, curious, and horny as hell. He may be a handsome fucker, but his inability to finish a complete conversation is really starting to grind my gears.
I pace around the bedroom in endless circles, both because I’m growing restless and because I figure the exercise will help my body recover faster. My joints still ache, and my bruises are still tender, but overall, I’m feeling right as rain.
I give up and sit on the edge of the bed, my mind spinning.
There’s so much for me to unpack about my run-in with Gabriel, and by the looks of things, I have more than enough time to do so. I lie down on the bed sheets, quietly stewing.
The Red Ravens were mine until I let him take over.
I don’t believe what Gabriel said was true. Dad’s been the leader of the Red Ravens for as long as I can remember, for well before I was born. He never mentioned stepping into the role. Hell, up until a few days ago, I didn’t even know Gabriel existed. But what reason would Gabriel have to lie? I desperately want answers, but the man’s proving to be a tough nut to crack.
I close my eyes and think about the tattoo on his arm, tracing the edges of my own with the tip of my finger.
We match, I think amusedly.
What do you want from me?
I can still feel the ghost of his breath against my lips, my cheeks. When I close my eyes, I can very clearly picture him leaning in that last millimeter or so to seal the deal. The memory of the hard press of his erection between my thighs makes me overheat.
No one’s ever touched me like that before. My heart beats twice as fast just thinking about it. If he’d kissed me, would I have let him?
A complete stranger, a man twice my age.
Goosebumps trail along my arms at the realization that, yes, actually, I would have. Now I can’t stop thinking about his hands on my body, the blanketing weight of his chest against my back, the way he towered over me with that indescribable look in his eye.
I press my knees together, unable to deny the hot pulse between my legs. Without thinking, I slip a hand beneath the band of my pants and underwear, teasing my folds with a finger. My finger slides against my clit, my pussy slick with my own arousal.
It’s not like I have some snooty view on virginity and sex. I’m not saving myself or trying to remain pure or anything like that. I’ve had many opportunities to sleep with someone, but the timing was never right. I’ve been much too focused on stealing art and priceless jewels over stealing hearts. Thieves keep odd hours, too, so I couldn’t mosey on down to the local club and mingle the old-fashioned way.
I lick my lips and squeeze my eyes shut, imagining the hand touching me is bigger, rougher. I imagine a deep, gruff voice uttering sweet French endearments against my ear. A soft moan escapes my lips, heat flooding my cheeks and radiating off my skin.
“What the hell am I doing?” I grumble to myself, though I don’t stop the teasing.
I know this is a bad idea, fantasizing about a man I know next to nothing about, but surely what happens behind closed doors in the privacy of my own thoughts is my own damn business. A part of me feels stupid for indulging. I’ve got a million and one more important things to worry about, but my body doesn’t seem to understand what my brain does. Slowly but surely, my thoughts give in to my fleeting desires and I’m helpless to stop them from wandering.
I wonder what it would feel like to have Gabriel on top of me. Would he be rough or gentle? Would he make fun of me and my inexperience? Would it hurt?
A tight coil of pressure builds within my core. I rub myself a little faster, a little rougher until I can feel myself teetering on the edge of the crest.
What do you want from me?
In one fell swoop, I plummet over the edge, adrenaline and euphoria flooding through my veins. My brain momentarily blanks, a warm and fuzzy sensation wrapping my whole body.
Unfortunately, I don’t have a lot of time to relish in my post-orgasm haze because the sound of a little girl crying reaches my ear. I shoot out of bed, daring to peek out of the bedroom door. Somewhere down the hall, I can hear Odette sniffling and whining, not quite able to call for help, though her distress is clear.
