54. RAVEN

54

RAVEN

A kiss. One kiss. I never knew that moments in life had tastes. Especially this one, the fucked-up blackmail that I tried to cook up that grew into something I didn't expect, something that took me by storm—this beautiful girl.

Our first kiss… Maddy tastes like love and acceptance and coconut and sunshine. A long time ago, I made it my mission to coax her into giving in and beg for a kiss. But it feels like something I've been begging for silently for weeks.

I hope she finally accepts me, and the moment she kisses me, it takes me aback—like witnessing a miracle.

She kisses me just for a few seconds, her soft lips pressing against mine. She pulls back, meets my eyes, and I'm stalling, stalling, trying to reconcile in my head what's happening.

She kisses me again, and now I know that my desperate brain is not making this up, that it's not a test or some wicked game.

She pulls back, and her beautiful eyes are on me again. There's a question in them and a speck of glee, like she finally figured out something so powerful that it takes her as much by surprise as me.

The third time she kisses me, I don't let her go. I hold her face between my palms and kiss her with all I have. And I fall apart at the feeling and the truth—I am utterly, madly in love with her. No intimacy we've ever shared before had a fraction of the power that this kiss does. I'm dissolving in her. My entire body resonates with hers.

That treacherous beast inside my chest beats like mad.

She doesn't want you , the voice in my head says. I often listen to it. But a voice and intuition are different things. That voice is doubtful. The intuition coming from my heart is hopeful. That voice failed me many times. But intuition often saved my life. And it told me the moment I laid eyes on Maddy that she was meant for me, whichever way you put it.

And now I want her all. No contracts. No deals. Fuck the voice in my head.

We kiss until my lips are swollen, and she pulls back and studies my face. No words. Like we can communicate through our gazes.

I want to say something, explain the last months better than I did in a moment of anger. But I don't know what she wants to hear.

I can't stop looking at her, my hands still palming her face. I know all those little signs in her expressions. When the corner of her mouth curves into a little smile when she is amused. When her pursed lips shift to one side in contempt. When her face turns into a still mask—she's learned to hide her emotions so well. And the vein under her chin pulsating in the hummingbird pulse. It always gives her away.

Like right now.

She is not trying to hide her vulnerable gaze. There are so many emotions in it that instead of talking, I slowly stroke the sides of her face, then lean in and kiss her soft lips again.

I don't know for certain if she feels the same. Is this a peace offering? Does she want protection? Feels bad? Or regrets she never kissed me and did that just to test it out? Or…

I'm hoping for or . I might be making a mistake hoping. But I can listen. I can. I can ask what she wants, if only that doesn't mean she wants me gone from her life.

I pull away from the kiss and study her face.

She is the first one to break the silence. "Do you want to go to my place?"

To fuck? To talk? To sort us out? I'm willing to do anything to keep her with me.

I shake my head, and there's a speck of disappointment on her face.

"My place," I say, catching a momentary surprise in her eyes.

She nods. "Your place," she whispers.

I don't know what to say when we walk across the beach, so I ask about Sonny.

"He is fine," she says. "He needs to rest. He's probably watching a movie and forgot all about what happened earlier."

She smiles, and I chuckle. "Sounds like him."

I am tense like a steel rod when we ride my bike to my place, and her hands are on my waist. I feel her behind me, and I'm still wondering if I'm dreaming.

I'm definitely unnerved, cursing in my mind when I wonder if I left any mess at my house, though I never do. When I open the door to let her in, she walks in, and she is in?—

My. House.

Maddy is here. This fact blows my mind.

"Make yourself comfortable," I say. "I'll make us drinks if you want. I'm just going to clean up real quick."

I leave her in the living room, walk to my bedroom, to the bathroom, lock the door, turn on the water, and splash it in my face. I need a fucking breather. Also, maybe to figure out what to say and how to act.

I lean with my hands on the sink and stare at myself in the mirror. How do I not screw this up? I already did once. Twice. Probably many times.

But here we are, at my house, ready to talk.

I want to kiss her all night. I want to fuck her. I want to fuck and kiss her at the same time—that's a novelty. But I don't want to take. Not this time. Take, take, take—that's what I've done all my life, bit by bit, amassing power and wealth until I realized that the most important things can't be taken. They are earned. Deserved. Gifted…

If Maddy wants to talk all evening and night, I will gladly abide. I won't even touch her if she doesn't want to.

I ruffle my hair and exhale, summoning determination, and wipe my face with a towel.

What now?

I open the door and walk out into the bedroom.

I'll go slowly. Yes, we will talk. I will make her dinner. We will discuss?—

My eyes meet the most beautiful sight on earth—Maddy is standing in the middle of my bedroom completely naked, her clothes pooled on the floor at her feet, her dark hair spilling beautifully onto her bare shoulders and breasts.

There's that smile in her eyes, and I have an immediate impulse to get down on my knees and worship her, kiss her feet, make my way up her legs, thighs, hips, that delicious pussy, then up-up-up to that soft mouth. If I could kiss her everywhere at the same time, I would.

My eyes follow my thoughts and run into her pretty browns.

"I want you to take off your clothes, Rave," she says softly like some magic spell. "All of it."

She's asked that before. I always refused. But I won't ever refuse her anything.

One step, two—not sure hers or mine—as we get closer. It's her, because I'm still stalling. Her hands are on me, and while I try to kiss her face, anywhere I can reach, she's pulling my shirt over my head and arms. My fingers go to my jeans' button, but she is somehow faster, already working the zipper, giving my hardness a soft stroke.

She is undressing me, and I let her, because I will let her do anything she wants to me from now on.

I can't stop looking at her. I can't stop kissing her. I lean over and catch her mouth with mine in a kiss while she is pushing my jeans and boxers down my hips. I sink my fingers into her hair, devouring her mouth as I wiggle out of the jeans and boxers and kick them away. And I buck my hips into her hand as she softly strokes my cock. It's hard like a gun, pushing into her hand, ready to shoot if she doesn't slow down.

I step into her, guiding her toward my bed, then gently lower her onto it. She scoots backward. I follow, crouching over her, unashamed of the scars and the burns and my cock that bounces in the air wanting to be inside her.

Her naked body is half a foot away from me, and it's too far, so I push her legs apart with my knees, lower myself on top of her, and slide right into her.

Her lips part as I do. A tiny gasp escapes them, and that's the last straw. They are mine. She told me so. I kiss her, and finally, finally, this is my fucking Gestalt, and all the broken pieces of our fucked-up deal now snap into place as she slides her tongue into my mouth and her fingers into my hair. This was how it was meant to be, after all. Both of us, naked, together. Nothing between us anymore. No air. No useless inches. No rules. Nothing but unspoken words that we will get to later.

Her kiss is delicious, soft and deep. I move my hips slowly and try to fight whatever holds my chest in an iron grip. I only realize in a moment that those are emotions, a whole storm of them rising inside me as I fuck her with increasing speed, not able to hold back, knowing that she is in my arms and no one gets as close to her as I do.

She turns me inside out, makes my heart pulsate with so many feelings, and the words start repeating in my mind as I thrust inside her.

I love you.

I love you.

I love you.

I thrust, thrust, thrust inside her, trying to dissolve in her, calm the storm in me. I love storms, but this one might kill me and needs a storm-whisperer. I don't know how to tame it, but I don't want to stop it either.

It's so overwhelming. Her hands get urgent. Her mouth is ravishing. Her tongue is fucking me with the same speed that I fuck her. Feelings bleed through my pores, and I can't handle them. It's too much. I fuck her harder, and she rolls her hips to take more of me. In a minute, we are both panting into each other's mouths. She moans loudly. I grunt, burying my face in her hair, and the room finally dissolves around us as we come. It's just her and me, skin against skin, our emotions tangling together just like our bodies.

There are almost no universal truths. Everything is subjective. But I worked out a few, and here's one of them.

The best sex of your life is not with the most expert person. The best sex is with the person you are madly in love with. Just pressing your body against theirs feels like ecstasy. Sharing the heat, being naked, touching, caressing—the simplicity and power of attraction is in the hormones.

That's Maddy and I right now. We are both motionless. I'm still on top of her. She runs her fingertips along my shoulder. My face is still in her hair, and I breathe her in, my eyes closed, as I hold on to this moment.

She is the hormones shooting through my bloodstream. The oxytocin leaking through my pores. The need clenching my body when I'm next to her. The Earth doesn't have gravity. She does. The one that fucks me up and makes my head spin but grounds me, too. Oxymoron. She is that, too. Go figure.

But that's how the universe works lately. Me. Her. Us. Just like Earth, Maddy simply exists, while I am a tiny human unable to resist the force of nature. Fucking Einstein. He was a genius. Why couldn't he work out a formula for love?

I want to contort in some wicked way from the pleasure that burns every cell of my body when Maddy touches me like this.

I hope that's not what she wanted—to fuck. If that's the case, I won't give her clothes back. Not until we talk. Not until I make sure I have a chance at us .

But then the beautiful girl speaks and says the most unexpected thing.

"How much longer are you planning on being angry?" she asks simply.