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Something she was familiar with.
Something she knew how to deal with.
She locked it down, told him, “I changed my own dressings earlier.”
Raven had.
It had nearly killed her, but she’d done it.
One step closer to getting away.
Another block in the wall between them.
Rebar and concrete and barbed wire.
Barbed words and intentional distance.
Because she could deal with a lot, but Conner, in just his underwear, all those muscles, that skin on display, calling for her mouth, her fingers, hertongue…she couldn’t cope withthat.
“You did what?” More heat, but it was in the form of anger now. A rage that nearly stole her breath a second time.
Her chin came up. “I don’t need you.”
“Come on, Rave,” he said. “Aren’t we tired of this shit? Can’t we find a way to make peace and—”
Heart pounding because she wanted that—Godhow she wanted there—she sniffed and rolled her eyes. “No.”
A brow lifted. “Just no?”
“No,” she snapped. “We’ll never be friends. We’ll never be anything.You’llnever be more than an annoying asshole who can’t take no for—”
A flinch that sliced through her.
God, she was abitch.
But…this had to be this way.
“—an answer,” she forced herself to say.
Silence. Long. Cold. Distant.
Perfect.
“Right,” he whispered.
And then he was gone.
Six
Connor
He left her before he did something dumb. Like strangle her.
Or touch her until she melted beneath him, that barbed wire unwound and exposing lush, vulnerable woman.
Or tear off that tank top that kept slipping down one shoulder and make her moan instead of snapping at him.
Rage-fucking was a thing—and to be real, it was a thing he’d partaken in with very pleasurable results—but it wasn’t a thing he could do with Raven.
