Instant Attraction

Chapter 1

1

“So Levi tells me you’re a tattoo artist.”

Jonah Warner was beyond hot. He was on-fire sexy. Like panties on fire. Raven looked him over, imagining him naked. Imagining him over her, under her, whatever. Just naked and doing something sexy with her would do just fine.

He had a voice like smoke. Like caramel and other things made with heavy cream and possibly deep fried. He was whatever things that were a thousand calories that you ordered anyway because you had to consume them.

“I do okay.”

He looked her over with slow perusal. As if he was wondering what she looked like naked too. Which was absolutely fine with her.

One corner of his mouth lifted and she licked her lips, imagining his taste.

“You do more than okay.” He held a hand out. “I’m Jonah Warner. Levi’s brother. I know we’ve seen each other in passing at various events but I don’t think we’ve formally met. I’d have remembered.”

She took the hand and he slid a thumb over her wrist as he shook it.

“I’m Raven.”

He made her all tingly in the absolute best way. She wanted a bite of this man. Maybe a whole mouthful.

“Did you do Erin’s ink?” He tipped his chin toward where Erin stood with her brother Adrian.

“Nope. That’s all Brody Brown. I do okay. He’s a genius. But I’m hotter.”

Jonah laughed then and she had to fight the urge to step closer. Anywhere but this party and she might not have resisted. But she’d promised Erin to try her hardest to remember her manners.

“You are most assuredly hotter. He’s not my type at all.”

“Thank God for that. If you were gay, I’d be very disappointed.”

“That so?”

She nodded. “I mean, it’d be nice if a gal could watch. But the loss of such a stunning specimen would make womankind very sad.”

He cocked his head, leaning back against the wall. “Brody recommended you actually. For ink. I have a project.”

“What are you thinking of?”

“Would you like a drink?”

She shrugged. “Sure.”

He took her elbow and steered her to the small bar. The party was in honor of Mary Whaley and her new fiancé, Damien. He’d asked her to marry him in front of a crowd of tens of thousands and she’d said yes.

A mutual friend, Gillian, was hosting and had invited Raven. Anyone else and she might have said no. She wasn’t much for engagement parties. But it was impossible to say no to Gillian, so Raven didn’t try.

She liked the way he handled her. He didn’t ask, but he gave her a moment and some space to pull away. But once she didn’t he took over.

He looked her up and down as they waited for the bartender.

“Pear martini for the lady. Sidecar for me.” He slid some bills into the tip cup and handed her the martini once it was finished.

“Interesting that you’d assume I wanted this.”

He tapped his glass to hers as he steered her away. “I had one earlier. It’s strong and yet fragile. It occurred to me that it was a lot like you.”

“You don’t know me well enough to make that assumption.” He held a chair out and she sat.

“I don’t know you well enough to know what sort of sushi you like. But a drink is another thing entirely. It’s good, yes?”

Oh this one. He had trouble written all over him. Bossy. Dominant. She would normally have thrown her drink in his face and walked away from a man like him. But there she sat, sipping a really delicious martini.

“Tell me about your ink.”

“I want a full back piece. A wolf.”

“Why?” She’d done a dozen wolves. If he wanted a full back piece, it should mean something or he should realize that if it didn’t, he’d be stuck with something that meant nothing to him for the rest of his life. A small tattoo you could cover up or even get removed. But she was a big believer in full disclosure about the commitment one made with a tattoo of that size.

“Why do you want to know?”

“A back piece will take a lot of time. Some pain. Money. And it’ll be on your skin forever. Partly I want to know because it’ll be important in my design. For instance, do you want a Norse-style wolf? A Celtic-style wolf? Pacific Northwest Native American? A face in tight? A wolf moving or running? In a pack? Are there other elements you want in it? How do you envision it sitting on your skin? Also, this is a big, permanent thing. Sometimes people think it doesn’t matter if the tat has no meaning and for some people that might be true. But a tat that large? I like to make sure people understand that a tattoo isn’t like a pair of pants or hair color. You can’t just change something the size of a full back piece.” She shrugged.

He raised a brow. “I understand. How long have you been doing tattoos?”

“Since I was nineteen.”

“So for what? Four years?”

She laughed. “You’re so full of it. You know how hot you are, you don’t need the bullshit to get some tail.”

“You’re a beautiful woman. Is that better?”

“Infinitely.”

“Wolves symbolize things I believe are important. Loyalty. Honor. Protection. As for style, would it be possible to have you give me a few ideas to choose from?”

“Yes. I can show you some of my work. I have a portfolio.”

“All right. You come highly recommended but it can’t hurt to see your work. Do you do house calls?”

“I do.”

“Would you like to have a drink with me? At my place. After you show me your portfolio that is.”

“Is the drink contingent on the portfolio?”

“No. I’d want to have a drink with you either way.”

He was blunt. She liked blunt a great deal. She was bad at reading people and being coy. It took more energy than she normally had. Definitely more skill.

“All right.” She pushed her phone his way. “Put your number in there and I’ll call to schedule something.”

He leaned across, placing a hand over hers. “What are you doing tonight after this?”

A rush of heat blew through her.

“I’m busy.” She was. She’d promised Erin she’d come over to see Alexander, and as that sweet little boy owned part of her heart, she wouldn’t consider bailing, not even for a superhot turn in between the sheets with Jonah Warner.

“Hm.” He sat back looking her over. He took her phone and put his information in it, doing the same with her number in his phone while he was at it.

She got the feeling he thought she was playing a game. And if that was the case, he could suck it. She didn’t play games. They were useless and a waste of her precious time. If she liked a person and wanted to pursue something physical, she said so. And she had.

“Call me when you get the chance and we’ll set something up.” He handed her the phone and she tucked it into her bag.

“All right.”

He started to say more, leaning in again, but Gillian tapped a glass and began speaking, so they turned their attention to her.

“Mary was the first person I met when I moved here back when Miles was a tiny baby. She and her family took me under their wing from the start. Little treats, homemade baby food, that sort of thing would show up. She has been a very dear friend since the start. Jules, Daisy and I are so thrilled to host this party because no one deserves happiness more than Mary Whaley, who has taken care of us all for years. So even though Damien has taken her away and spirited her down to Oregon for most of every month, we’ll allow him to have her because he makes her so happy.”

Jules put an arm around Mary. “To Mary and Damien.”

Raven raised her glass and drank. She liked Mary well enough. She made Gillian happy, and that was important. She was good to Poppy, Gillian and Adrian’s baby daughter, as well.

Raven didn’t have many people she’d give a kidney to. But Gillian was one of them. And because Gillian loved Mary, that was more than enough reason to raise her glass and mean it.

They milled around and Erin caught her eye. Wanting to go home, Raven knew, to Alexander.

She turned back to Jonah. “It was a pleasure to meet you, Jonah. I’ve got to go now.”

He stood, walking with her to where Erin stood with Todd and Ben, both her men. One her legal husband, the other the husband of her and Todd’s heart. They’d both loosened up around her, especially once they realized how much she loved their son.

“I need to get my bag, I’ll be right back.”

Erin went with her, leaning in to speak quietly. “Holy crap, Levi’s brother is so freaking hot. You gonna nail him?”

Raven rolled her eyes at Erin. “You’ve got two dudes of your own to nail; why the prurient interest in my knickers?”

“Be quiet about that. He’s hot. Naturally I’ll need every last filthy detail.”

“He wants me to do some ink. There’s chemistry. Chances are—if he’s lucky—there will be filthy nailing to tell you about like you’re my pimp.”

Erin laughed. “I just want to check in on Poppy before we leave. Miles said she’s popping a tooth.”

Poppy Brown was clearly her father’s daughter. She had the Brown ebullience. Always freaking happy. Always making noise or music. She lit up when someone she loved came into view.

So when they came around the corner to find Miles—Gillian and Adrian’s now-sixteen-year-old son—holding his sister, who held his cheeks, patting them as she babbled, Poppy’s little face lit even brighter when she saw her aunt and Raven.

She held her arms out and Miles frowned, loath to give her up.

“Once Aunt Erin has her, I’ll never get her back.”

Raven swooped in and took her instead.

“Hey, Pop, what’s shakin?”

Poppy gave her a gummy grin, grabbing a fistful of Raven’s hair. “Oh, I see your tooth.”

Erin crowded in. “There it is. You have a chomper, Ms. P. Whatcha going to eat with it? A steak?”

Poppy gave a gusty laugh as she kicked her legs.

“I should have known you’d be in here with the baby.” Gillian came in. She moved to Miles, putting an arm around him. “Hello to you, my biggest child. Mary says she’s put a tote full of food in the fridge for you.”

“Awesome.” He kissed Poppy’s head and ran off.

“I’m chopped liver to the food goddess and the baby.”

Raven snorted. “Yes, that’s so obvious. No one loves you, Gillian. You may as well eat worms.” She’d had to explain that line to Gillian back when they’d first met.

“Give me that baby. I’m her aunt.”

“Fine. Jeez. I’ll see you later, Pop.” Raven kissed Poppy’s head and handed her to Erin, who immediately began to dance around and sing to her.

“I’m so glad you came tonight.” Gillian smiled. “I don’t like it when you’re gone for so long.”

Raven had been in Los Angeles and then stopped off in Honolulu for a while. She liked to roam. But she had people to return to in Seattle and found herself there more and more these days. She used to be gone for six months at a time and now she limited it to no more than a month.

“I’ll be around for a while. Brody is down two people so I’ll be there for the foreseeable future anyway.”

Gillian smiled. “Good.”

She shrugged, not always sure what to do with that sort of positive attention.

But Gillian got it. Much like Erin did. Gillian was an outsider. Had been for most of her life. She never pressed or got up in Raven’s face about anything. That sort of acceptance was . . . it was startling, and it filled something inside.

“You know you’re welcome to come back any time to see Poppy. And me of course.”

“All right. I’ll call you.”

Gillian took Raven’s hand and gave it a squeeze. “See that you do.”

“We’ve got to get going. Alexander knows Raven is coming over to give him a bath and read him a story. He’ll be mad if we’re late.”

Gillian’s mouth tipped up into a grin. “Everyone’s so afraid of you. But they don’t know that underneath that bitchy exterior is all marshmallow.”

“All that postpartum stuff has made you goofy. That and your prolonged exposure to the Browns.”

Erin handed Poppy back to her mother. “Hasn’t done that to you.”

“My bitchiness is bone deep. Even you people can’t change that.”

Erin linked her arm through Raven’s. “Let’s go.”

“Thank you both for coming. We’ll walk you out.”

Adrian had been talking with Todd and Ben and the ever-so-delicious Jonah. But when he caught sight of his wife and daughter, his entire demeanor changed. Raven had to admit—to herself anyway— that having Poppy had changed him nearly as much as being with Gillian. He’d softened, even toward Raven.

“I’ll meet you all back at the house.” Raven nodded at Erin, who waved. She turned and nearly bumped into Jonah.

“Don’t forget to call me.”

She smiled. “I won’t.”

She put an extra bit of sway into her walk as she left. Didn’t hurt to show him what he wouldn’t be having that night.

Chapter 2

2

He looked at his phone and her number for a while before he finally called. He’d dreamed of her, the delicious Raven, the night before. All lush curves and cat’s eyes.

Jonah knew there was an element of danger with a woman like her. There were shadows in her gaze. She wasn’t an easy sort of person. He got that from the way some spoke about her.

Then again, he wasn’t an easy sort of person either. He’d dated easy women. Both kinds. If he wanted that, it could be had without too much effort. But that had gotten him a broken marriage and single parenthood.

He’d taken the last several years off from complications. He’d put his energy into raising his daughter, Carrie. She’d needed to finish high school and get prepared to leave for college. Her mother wasn’t any help.

Though it had been difficult and he hadn’t had much time for more of a life than parenting and working, it had been good. Carrie was smart. Strong. She’d had her pick of schools and though he’d winced when she chose Harvard—across the country . . . and Ivy League was still across the country—he’d also been incredibly proud.

He’d gotten used to being with her every day. Of getting up and having breakfast with her before she went off to school and he’d gone to work. The house was quiet now. Carrie was in Italy for her senior year of high school, having scored a spot in a prestigious art program.

The answered phone brought his attention back.

“Hello?”

Her voice did things to him, low in his gut.

“Raven? This is Jonah Warner.”

“Why hello, Jonah Warner. I’ve got some designs for you to look at.”

“Already?”

“Of course. I said I would. I keep my promises.”

He liked that quality.

“Would you like to come to my house tonight?” he asked. “I’ve got a pretty busy day at work, but I’ll be home by seven. I can make you dinner as incentive.”

“All right, that works.”

He gave her directions and she hung up and he was still smiling when he walked into court twenty minutes later.

“What are you smiling about?” His mother sent him a raised brow.

“What isn’t there to smile over? It’s a nice day. I won in court not once, but twice today. My mother has shown up in the office unexpectedly. Spoke to Carrie earlier, she’s having a great time.”

Liesl Warner wasn’t stupid. She narrowed her gaze but didn’t say anything else about it.

“Did she mention if she’d received my package?”

“She said it arrived Friday and to thank you.” His mother scared people routinely, as regularly as she breathed. But she loved her granddaughter and sent her care packages several times a month. It probably made them both feel better.

“She sent me one too, with photographs as well. She’s got quite an eye.”

Art was important in his family. They’d been raised to appreciate it. His mother collected it, as did Jonah and Levi. It was no surprise really that Carrie wanted to be a curator or go into museum and collection management.

“Daisy has been a great deal of help.” That had been surprising as well. Levi’s hot young fiancée the artist had won their mother over quite handily. And she’d been supportive of Carrie as well. “I wasn’t sure about your brother for a while, but Daisy is entirely suitable. He’s far better behaved since they’ve been together. Have you noticed that? Now if they’d only actually choose a date to get married. My heavens, Jonah, what sort of engagement is it that lasts so long without a date?”

Ha. He wasn’t going to touch that one. Not for all the money in the world.

In fact, it was time for him to get out of there so he could stop at the grocery store on the way home. He promised dinner but realized he had an empty fridge.

“I’ve got to rush.” He gathered up his things. “Is there something you needed?”

He kissed her cheek on his way past as he turned out his light.

“Your father and I are going to the symphony tonight. Would you like to join us for dinner?”

“Not tonight. I’ve got some things to do. Have a good time though.”

She looked him over again but didn’t say anything else.

“I’m out of here.” Raven gathered her stuff up.

Brody Brown, her friend and the owner of Written On The Body, looked up from his place just across from hers. “Whatcha up to tonight?”

“Thanks to your recommendation, I’m meeting with Jonah Warner about a full back piece.”

“Nice. I saw something between you at the engagement party. Did I imagine more than ink talk?”

Brody knew her in ways less than a handful of people did. There was once a time when she could have let herself love him, and probably did, but she’d fucked it up. He liked to tell her she did it on purpose. But he’d been married for several years at that point. He and his beautiful wife had two kids and it fit him perfectly. He was still her friend. Always that.

“There’s some chemistry.”

Brody laughed then and she paused, cocking her head. “What?”

“Oh, just that from what I’ve seen and heard, he’s the kind of guy who likes what he likes, exactly how he likes it. Gonna be fun to watch you try to sidestep being owned by a guy like him.”

“Pfft. No one owns me, Brody Brown. And I happen to like what I like exactly how I like it. So maybe we’ll be perfect for each other.” She sniffed. “But for now, it’s just a nice piece of work to do to pay the bills.”

She waved over her shoulder as she left.

She stopped home before heading out to Jonah’s house. She never used to have a place in Seattle. Or anywhere for that matter. She liked to house-sit instead. Kept her from feeling trapped. She traded out time in L.A. and Seattle mostly, did a few stints in Hawaii as well.

But when Erin had gotten pregnant with Alexander she’d wanted to be there for her friend. She’d known how freaked out Erin was about having another baby after losing her daughter in such a tragic fashion. And then it had been a high-risk pregnancy. So Raven had bought a condo in Capitol Hill with a nice view of downtown and the Sound. Just a studio. It had a bed and her music and sketch pads and clothes and that was pretty much all she needed anyway.

She got to spend time with Alexander, who she adored like crazy. She’d never been one for kids until he’d come along. And then she’d found herself really enjoying Brody’s daughters as well. Rennie, the oldest, who only stopped talking long enough to take a breath, and Martine, who had burst into toddlerhood and cracked Raven up.

So she’d let herself put some roots down and it hadn’t felt bad at all. It had felt . . . all right.

She checked her mail, finding little of interest, and recycled the junk before heading upstairs to change and get her sketches.

Raven didn’t work from transfers. They felt constraining. But she did like to work from sketches. Row after row of neatly organized sketch pads lined her bookshelves and she found the one she needed to take over to Jonah’s that evening. She’d done several different styles so he could choose whichever he preferred from those.

She took her hair down from the ponytail she’d had it in all day and brushed it out. Brushing her hair had been a soothing ritual for her for as long as she could remember. Every night, every morning, whenever she was stressed or scared.

The clothes she had on were good enough for a long day bent over people doing ink. But. Well, she wanted to wear something pretty and sexy. Not too much of either. She liked Jonah. She hoped they’d end up naked and sweaty too. In the meantime, it wasn’t a crime to look good for a man of his caliber anyway.

She’d mapped out directions online to his place so she found it easily enough. A nice neighborhood near the arboretum. His driveway curved a little up to the front of the house. Brick exterior. Lots of windows. Big lawn. His front door had a pretty knocker dealie on it.

She only had to tap it a few times before he opened it and stole her breath. He’d been dressed up for the party, but this night he had on a worn T-shirt that hugged over a broad chest and Levi’s with bare patches on the thigh and at the hem. No shoes.

His dark hair was a little tousled and he had a look. Oh my, that look. Like he was going to take a big bite.

“Please, come in.” He stepped back and motioned her inside.

She hesitated in the entry. There was a woman’s stamp on that entry. Interesting that the man bore no indication of a woman’s stamp at all.

“Can I take your things?” Jonah indicated the sketchbook and her bag.

“Oh sure.” She handed them over.

Contrary to popular belief, she did have filters. A few anyway. She’d been working on it. Which is why she didn’t blurt out the question she was dying to have answered about who had decorated the entry.

She didn’t get involved with married men. She didn’t have a lot of rules about her sex life, but that was one of them. She did not break her personal rules.

“Come through. Would you like a beer or a glass of wine? I hope chicken is all right. I should have asked if you were a vegetarian.”

She followed him, checking out that ass and the broad expanse of his back. He’d look mighty fine with ink.

“Do you have other tats?”

“I do. Three others.”

“Beer, please.” She sat at the large island in the kitchen, watching him pull the beer from the fridge and crack it open. He had nice hands. Big. He moved with ease in his space. Though she’d seen him at the party and he moved with ease there too.

Confident.

He handed it over once he poured it into a glass and then clinked it with his.

“Chicken is fine. Who did your other work?”

“Two of them I got in Boston. The other in San Diego. How many do you have?”

“Six. Brody did them all. He’d kill me if I got them from anyone else.” She snorted. “We’re territorial, you know. Tattoo artists.”

“Don’t report me then. We’ve got about half an hour until the food is ready. Want to go out back? I picked up some appetizer-type stuff. You can show me the sketches while we have our beer.”

He took her elbow and steered her out, not really waiting for her answer. But it wasn’t rude, it was more . . . in charge.

Out back was a gorgeous deck overlooking the water and the lake beyond. He indicated for her to sit on a couch so she did. “This is pretty swank.”

He nodded. “I can’t complain. We used to live on the Eastside, but Carrie, my daughter, wanted to go to a high school over this way. She liked being able to help me decorate this place. Our old house . . . well, it wasn’t hard to move.”

That answered her question about who’d put the female stamp on the entry. “The mother?”

He was quiet a while. She figured that if he didn’t want to talk about it he wouldn’t.

“Yes. It was a house I bought for my ex-wife as a wedding present.”

“What’s that story?”

She drank her beer and sat back, looking out over the yard and the view.

Jonah wasn’t used to people asking him really personal questions like this. Sure, his nosy mother and his brothers, who really had no manners when it came to family stuff. But not strangers.

It was oddly freeing.

“She left.” He shrugged. “It was okay for about eight years. We had some good times. But she wasn’t happy after that.”

“What about your daughter?”

“My ex wasn’t happy as a mother either.”

A look flashed over Raven’s face. Rage. And then it was gone. “She walked away from her kid or did you take your daughter from her?”

He started. “Do I seem that type to you?”

“People are seldom what they appear to be.”

“That’s pretty jaded.”

“That’s pretty reality. I don’t know you that well. You clearly have a lot of money and you’re not used to hearing no. Would you be the first rich powerful dude in history to railroad the wife to snatch the kid just because he could?”

Put that way . . .

He blew out a breath. “I’m not an asshole. No. I didn’t snatch my daughter. But I would have if I needed to. My ex is far happier with my money than our kid. She walked away. Carrie was twelve so she made the choice to stay out here. Her mother lives on the East Coast.”

“She sounds swell. Your ex I mean.”

He paused and then laughed. “She’s missing out on the best thing in the world.” Jonah shrugged. “I can’t pretend I understand it. It used to make me mad.”

“Why not relieved? I mean, I know people who’ve gone through hellish custody battles. It sucks she’s a twat and doesn’t give two shits about her kid. But it sounds to me like your kid is better off without her mom in her life. Just because someone gives birth to you doesn’t mean they’re your fucking mother. Being a mom, or a dad for that matter, is more than biology.”

“There’s a story.”

“Everyone has a story.” She pulled a big pad out. “Here are some of the designs I worked up for you.”

“I’d rather hear your story.”

She sent him a raised brow and he liked it. A lot.

“Fine. But as you noted, I don’t like being told no.”

Her smile sent a shiver through him. “You’ll get used to it.”

He took her hand, turning it to press a kiss at her wrist. She smelled good. Warm. He liked the pleased surprise on her face and the indrawn breath.

“Or maybe you could get used to telling me yes.”

“You’re going to be a handful, aren’t you?”

He nodded. “I’m told it’s a flaw. I’ll try to be worth it.” This woman was a challenge, yes. But one he had every intention of undertaking. He wanted in.

“Hm.”

He grinned as he sat back, taking the sketchbook and opening it.

“Wow. These are incredible.”

And they were. Such a range of styles and designs.

She scooted closer. “This one.” She pointed to a design with multiple wolves. “Could go from your lower back up to your shoulder. I’d need to see where your other tattoos are to figure out how to integrate if they’re close to your back.” She turned the page. “This one would fit nicely square in the center.”

Stunning. Concentric circles of design that built to create the image of a wolf head.

“It’s more Celtic. The first is more Nordic.”

There were others, but his attention kept returning to those first two. “Which do you like best?”

“You’re a big man. Imposing. Intense.” One shoulder lifted. “I like to see the skin where the tat would go. What your musculature is like. A bold tattoo needs to sit just right.”

“Are you trying to get me naked?”

She smirked. “I’m sure it’ll be worth the wait.”

He pulled the T-shirt off and she hummed. That hum was a caress.

She stood. “I need you up so I can get a better look.”

He obeyed, staying very close. She didn’t move away. Instead she looked up into his face. “Goddamn.”

As compliments went, it was a pretty good one.

She circled him, near enough to brush the heat of her body against his skin. Her palms smoothed over his shoulders, across his back, down his spine. She traced the tattoo on his right shoulder.

“Decent work. I can touch it up here.” Her fingertips brushed a spot of sensitive skin.

“Does it need that?”

“Only if you want it to look nice.”

He turned his head and she was so very close. A quick movement and his hand cupped the back of her neck as he took that mouth of hers in a kiss. Hard and fast.

Her taste rushed through his system like wildfire as she opened to him. Her tongue slid along his as he claimed, took, demanded.

She kissed like she meant it. Matching him move for move. He’d kissed women before. But this woman knew what she was about. Took her time, tasting him. A nip of his bottom lip sent a shiver through him. He hauled her close, the sweetness of her curves against him. He was hard. So fucking hard.

All from a kiss.

When he got this woman naked they were going to set shit on fire.

He eased back, taking her bottom lip between his teeth a moment. “That was as good as I imagined.”

Her smile was the furthest thing from coy possible.

“Dinner should be finished soon.”

“Where are the other two tattoos?” She didn’t step back and he didn’t let go, but he had to move to show her.

Reluctantly he pulled away and unbuttoned his fly enough to show her the star below his belly button.

“My.” She licked her lips.

“Is that a good my?”

Her gaze locked with his. “You know it is.”

He guessed he did. He worked hard on his body. It gave him somewhere to channel all his sexual energy after the divorce. When he’d discovered he liked things his ex never would have allowed. And then he got concerned it wasn’t normal or healthy.

But he was far too old to worry about it any longer. All this time he’d dated on and off. Fucked when he could, around Carrie’s schedule because she was his priority. He’d had tastes here and there, never wanting to go too far. Never fully trusting any of those women to give him what he needed, or to let go of all that dark desire he harbored. He had felt that it wasn’t worth it to really go full out with someone unless he was going to be with her full time. What he wanted, what he liked, wasn’t a game.

And it had been fine.

But with this woman it was different. She was not fragile or shy. She was not coy. She wore her sexuality openly. She was the kind of woman a man could be an equal with.

He liked that a great deal.

“Is the other tattoo on your cock?”

He barked a laugh. “Fuck no. I like my cock too much to let anyone jab it with a needle.”

It was her turn to laugh. “Good. Cock tattoos are not hot. You, on the other hand are very, very hot.”

“The other tattoo is on my thigh. A small one. I’m thinking of getting it covered.”

“Your ex-wife’s initials? Wedding anniversary?”

“Am I that transparent?”

“No. But you don’t seem the type to get tweety bird on a weekend bender or whatever. So if you wanted to remove it or cover it, I figure it’s something you don’t want to be reminded of anymore.”

“I nearly said it was Yosemite Sam. But then I didn’t think I could keep a straight face. It’s our wedding date. She got one too, though I imagine she’s covered it. At first I left it there to remind me of my mistake. Now it’s just numbers inked into my skin.”

He put his shirt back on and she made a little disappointed sound that brought a smile again.

“What’s the star for?”

“I liked it.”

“I like stars.” She pulled her shirt up and he saw the smattering of stars across her belly and up her side.

“I like yours better.”

“Good to know.”

The kitchen timer began to ding and with a sigh he turned. “Dinner’s ready.”

Chapter 3

3

“You’re a pretty good cook.” Truth be told, she’d sort of expected him to have a cook who also cleaned and took care of him.

“Carrie and I learned a lot together. She’s better than I am. Mainly because my mother insisted Carrie be taught to run a household.” He snorted.

“You disagree?”

“My mother’s perspective is that it’s a woman’s duty. Mine is, she should know because she’s a person who will be an adult on her own.”

He was a surprise. Not that she wasn’t around men who would raise their daughters to be independent women, but he clearly came from an established, moneyed family. She knew through Erin that the family matriarch was all about position in the community and all that jazz. But her sons, the two eldest anyway, were pretty open.

She nodded. “She’s going to college so she’ll need to know how to cook.”

“Only so much Cup o’ Noodles she can eat.”

It made her smile to imagine him eating from a little foam cup. “Was that your college mainstay?”

“I had a roommate whose dad owned a restaurant. The guy was pretty amazing in the kitchen. I have to admit I ate pretty well in college. Law school involved a lot of takeout and peanut butter sandwiches though.” He watched her with greedy eyes. “Can you cook?”

She shrugged. “I do all right. I have my few go-to meals. Spaghetti, tacos, soup. Nothing overly complicated. Erin, now she can cook.”

“But she can’t do tattoos.”

He was a flatterer, Jonah Warner. And he knew just exactly what to say to get to her. It wasn’t calculated in any way. Which only made it more powerful.

“She can’t. But the rock star, two husbands, great kid, lots of money part gets her through.”

He laughed. “How long have you known her?”

“Erin? Fourteen, nearly fifteen years now.”

“Where did you grow up? I keep getting a little bit of Southern from you.”

She tried to remain relaxed. It wasn’t as if she never spoke about her personal life. Within limits. “Arkansas.”

“Really? Where?”

She’d told people about Happy Bend, but this man . . . well, he got under her skin. Telling him this thing gave him power of a sort. She wasn’t altogether sure if she wanted that.

“Small town in the middle of nowhere. Anyway, now that I’ve seen your back I think either of the first two designs would work really well. The others all would with some editing. But the tattoo on your shoulder would impact how I’d wrap a few of them.”

“You’re mysterious.”

She snorted. “Not so much.”

“If not, then tell me the name of the town.”

She raised a brow. “You really don’t like to be thwarted, do you? The thing is, even though you’re ridiculously handsome and you kiss like you’d be really good in bed, I’m not going to be goaded like I’m in grade school.” Not that she’d ever been much of a normal grade-schooler anyway.

“And to think you said I was a handful.”

“Well, we all have our crosses to bear.”

“So tell me something. Anything.”

He was so ridiculously charming she couldn’t resist.

“My favorite color is purple.”

“Mine is green.”

“I bet it looks awesome on you.”

“What makes you say that?”

“Your eyes and hair, the sort of tawny skin tone . . . it would work with a deep green.”

“What color are your panties?”

She grinned as she took a sip of her beer. “Who says I’m wearing any?”

He choked.

“Black. Wearing underpants with trousers or jeans is sort of mandatory in my personal rule book.”

“There you go, cutting into my fantasy.”

“Are we pretending I won’t make your fantasy reality?”

He got serious as he looked her over so closely she had to fight back a blush.

Her shrug aimed at nonchalance but most likely failed. “I don’t play games when it comes to sex.”

Usually she said it calmly, but just then he made her feel defensive. Well, no, defensive wasn’t the right word. Like she needed to declare it with her chin jutted out. Or something.

“You don’t? Well, there goes that fantasy.”

She laughed, relaxing.

“Well, there are games and there are games. I like what I like. I’m an adult. I think it’s a waste of time to pretend we aren’t sexually attracted to each other when we are.”

His gaze went hooded.

“All right. I can get on board with that. I want you.”

Heat and cold washed over her. Which was silly. She wasn’t a virgin by any stretch of the imagination. But this sort of desire left her breathless. Giddy. She wasn’t used to this. A slow heat sure. She’d felt that with Brody Brown for a very long time. He was an attractive man who cared about her, and that had been comforting as well as exciting. But this man . . . well. He wasn’t the long, slow dance that men like Brody Brown were. This man was intense. He stole her breath.

Being so out of sorts and off balance wasn’t something she did well.

Then again, she had no intention of leaving, so to pretend otherwise was ridiculous.

“And I want the Celtic design one. Circles. I like that.”

She would have chosen that one in his place as well. He was a warrior type. Big and braw. Smart. Good lord, she could see the intelligence and cunning in his gaze. Like a wolf, she supposed.

“Nice choice.”

“I feel vindicated that you agree.”

“It’ll look good on you.”

“Why do I get the feeling you’d never allow otherwise?”

“I like my work. I like my reputation. If I cut corners or got sloppy, I’d have neither.”

“That . . . and I think you’re a control freak. Have you ever given any thought to releasing that control?”

His voice had gone low and silky and it sent a shiver through her.

“Are you going to try to convert me now?”

He laughed, but there was more than simple amusement there. This was foreplay.

“I suppose I’d like to show you my idea of heaven.”

Good lord.

“Do I have to read your pamphlet now? I like candy on Halloween. I like to dance. I particularly enjoy premarital sex.”

He stood, stacking her empty plate on his before carrying them to the sink. “In my religion, you can have all the candy, dancing and sex with me that you can stand.”

“Hm. Well, perhaps conversion is something worth considering.”

“First things first. Tattoos.”

He got such a smug expression she was torn between amusement and annoyance. Men. “It’s probably going to take at least two sessions, maybe three. Your design has a lot of shading. Just the outlining alone will take several hours. I can do it here if you like. Or you can come to my place or the shop.”

“The shop is near Green Lake, isn’t it?”

“Yes. Near the zoo. The regular hours are eleven to ten. But I can work around that if you need.”

“Oh, I do need. But not that. Where is your place?”

“Capitol Hill.” Really only about ten minutes from his place.

“And you could do it here you said?”

“You’ll need a comfortable chair or a table to lie on. It needs to be the right height so I can work and not be stooped over. I’ll have all the sterilized equipment with me, no matter where I do it.”

“I don’t have a tattoo table. But, and you’re going to think I’m such a rich asshole, I do have a massage table. In my defense, I had to get surgery on my knee several years ago and the physical therapy involved massages. Because my schedule is crazy, they came out here. It’s in a closet, but would that work?”

She laughed. “You are a rich asshole. But it should, depending on how high it is. I can work back and forth between a chair and the table. It should keep you more comfortable too.”

He glowered and then stomped over, pulling her into his arms to kiss her hard and fast.

“I have to warn you that if insulting you gets me kissed, this is a negative-association thing. I’ll have to keep it up to get more.”

His dark look faded, replaced by a smile. “I’m not an asshole.”

“Hmm. I have a theory about this. Would you like to hear it?”

“Come with me.” He tugged and she followed. “You can tell me on the way.”

“Where are you taking me?”

“Anywhere you’ll let me. Tell me your theory.”

“My theory is about rich people in general. So you’re multi-generational rich. Old money, established family.”

“You seem to know a lot about me.”

“Yes, when I set my plan to get pregnant and trap you into marriage so I could live it up, I had a dossier created about you. It was either that or, say, live in Seattle where you’re in the paper. Oh, or be friends with people who know your brother and his girlfriend.”

He paused, looking her up and down. “Ouch.”

“Indeed. Anyway, back to my theory. Second– or third-gen wealth produces trust-fund assholes who think work is red carpet for so-called charity events in between long bouts of shopping and partying. Rehab is involved sometimes. Marrying older men from other rich families who are supposed to calm Ms. Trust Fund and have her start breeding for the cause. But then there are those families who believe in noblesse oblige. Those successive generations make their kids have jobs. Raise them with a sense of responsibility and gratitude for their situation. Those kids, like you and Levi, work their asses off. But there’s no getting around the simple fact that having money changes your life. You’re accustomed to things like shorter lines at the airport, better service, nicer hotel rooms, your clothes are made better, you eat better. All that stuff. So you’re not an asshole like some who’d yell at the cleaning lady or the valet. You were raised better than that. But you have a sense of entitlement. Not like the trust-fund kids, but it’s there. You were raised with it. You can’t get around it. You don’t like being told no. You don’t like being refused things. You wouldn’t have this house and your expensive wristwatch if you weren’t an asshole in some sense. You work for it and you have to overcome what some in your community do to be taken seriously.”

“You’re pretty smart.”

She frowned. “For a gal who grew up in Happy Bend, Arkansas?”

“Now see, there you are.”

“Here I am?”

He continued to draw her upstairs. “Yes. Happy Bend. Sounds like a lovely small town. Also, working hard and coming from money doesn’t make me an asshole.”

“It’s not Mayberry. It’s a shithole filled with assholes, alcoholics and losers.” She clamped her lips shut against the words. “Anyway, I explained to you the difference between the asshole who throws cell phones at the help and the asshole who works hard but has a sense of entitlement to the best things in life. For instance, do you know how often I get asked by people if I do house calls?”

“No, but I get the feeling you’re going to smack me with the point and I’m going to have to admit you’re right.”

“You should always assume that. But in this case, people ask for me to come to their homes very rarely. Sometimes if someone is recovering from a health issue that makes it hard for them to get out. But mainly, it’s mover-and-shaker types. Who are simply used to being catered to. Now, like I said, there’s a difference between types of assholes. If there wasn’t, I wouldn’t be allowing you to get me into your bedroom.”

“How do you know that’s where I’m taking you?”

“Because you want to fuck me.”

“And I get what I want, Raven.”

“In this case you will, yes.”

He pushed open double doors and she had a very difficult time not being impressed, so she let it happen. Art dominated the walls downstairs as well, but up here, it was a different sort of art. Sensual.

The impressive thing, other than the art and the giant four-postered bed, was the view. The view out three walls of windows with wraparound decking just beyond. The view that took in the lake.

“Gorgeous.”

He looked her up and down. “I’m thinking the exact same thing.”

“I’m no view of the lake. This is stunning.” Imagine waking up to this every day. She might never get out of bed if this was what she saw each day. She’d just sit and sketch her time away.

“This is what sold me on the house.”

She ran fingertips up the smooth, carved curves of the poster she stood nearest to. And hoped fervently he never fucked his ex on this bed. Not normally anything she’d have cared about. But . . . she didn’t want to be associated with memories of another woman.

“I found this bed four years ago. In San Diego of all places, so it had to be shipped.”

Well, that answered her question. No ex in this bed. Not a wife anyway.

“It’s a king’s bed.”

One corner of his mouth lifted. “Is that so?”

She nodded.

The way he looked at her gave her butterflies. Is this what Erin meant when she talked about how Todd made her feel at times? Interesting.

“I’d like to fuck you. Well, I’d like to do lots of things with you, including fucking. You down with that?”

She nodded. “I’m so down with that.”

“The glass is treated. No one can see in. So you should get naked for me.”

She slowly unbuttoned her blouse to reveal the lacy camisole she was very glad she’d worn.

He hummed low, watching, his gaze on her a weight.

She stepped from her shoes, placing them beneath a nearby chair. The sticks came from her hair easily enough, sending it down her back and loose around her shoulders. The camisole slid from her skin, leaving her in a bra. A black-and-purple bra.

Next, the zipper at the side of her trousers slid down, enabling her to step from them.

“Your panties match your bra. I like that.”

She didn’t know why, but the fact that he liked it made her . . . proud.

The bra and underpants took only moments and she stood before him, far more than her skin bared.

He stared, long and hard, not trusting his words. She was so beautiful.

Long dark hair with threads of deep blue shot through it. Large, high breasts, silver bars through each nipple. Her skin was pale, creamy, and covered with ink here and there. Her legs were long, her toenails a deep red. She was bold, the way she looked back at him. And yet there was a fragility to Raven that grabbed him and didn’t let go. He was torn between a clawing desire and a need to cosset and spoil.

The stars she’d indicated earlier started at her left hip and scattered up her belly, across to her other hip and up her rib cage. Up each of her inner arms she had thorns and roses that wrapped around her biceps and shoulders.

“I see three tattoos. Where are the others?”

She turned, pulling her hair aside. Across her back spilled ivy and purple flowers.

“What are the flowers?”

“Forget-me-nots.”

Her voice, threaded with tension, tugged at him, drawing him closer.

“Eula?” He traced over the word that had been woven into a knot of ivy.

“My great-grandmother.”

Each time she told him something personal it felt like a victory. “Ah. This work is stunning.”

On her back at each hip sat a triangle with swirls.

“What are the triangles?”

“Triquetra on each side. Same basic concept, but the right is based on the disc I used to put in my 45 singles back when I had a record player. The other, well, it’s got personal meaning.”

“Enlighten me.”

“The nature of three. Mind, body, spirit. Maiden, mother, crone. The three levels of earth. That design is Celtic. Like I said earlier, Brody did all my work. He’s an artist, isn’t he?”

Jonah didn’t want any other man’s name on her lips. Even though he knew Brody Brown was a man who appeared to adore his wife and two daughters. Jonah knew too that Brody and Raven had once been involved.

“You’re quite the canvas.”

He noted the soft upturn of her lips. A pleased, touched smile. He wanted to see it again.

“Can I undress you?”

The two of them paused. Each seemingly surprised by the request.

“Yes.”

She pulled his shirt off again, leaning in to press an openmouthed kiss against his chest.

“Your body is beautiful.” She murmured it, nearly to herself.

He didn’t stop himself from sliding his palms over her shoulders and down her back, drawing her closer as she pulled his pants open and then down, kneeling as she did.

He stepped from his pants and shorts and then she looked up his body, shocking him into utter stillness as he took in the sight of this woman on her knees before him.

It was more than kneeling to get at his cock. It was . . . more. So much more.

“I like the way you look there. On your knees before me.”

“Do you?”

He nodded, sliding his fingers through her hair.

“I do. Very much. So much that I think you should suck my cock. Yes, yes, I think that’s definitely what you should do.”

She leaned in, brushing her cheek against the line of his cock until he nearly hissed. How such a small thing could feel so amazing he didn’t know, but it did.

She licked up the line from his sac to the crown, around and around, before sucking him into the heat of her mouth. Hot and wet, she took him deep, so deep he grunted at how amazing it felt.

Over and over, the rhythm of her down and up, down and up, the heat cooling as she retreated, only to shock him again as she swallowed his cock. Her nails scored up the backs of his thighs, her hands flattening on his ass to pull him closer.

From his vantage point he could take in the color on her back as her hair moved. It was so good he had an inner quarrel with himself. He told himself he could stop her in just a bit because he wanted more of her mouth. Then he told himself he had great recovery time and if he came in her mouth—and that idea appealed quite a lot—that he could concentrate on making her come and then by the time he was ready again, he could fuck her.

So he could have both.

Yes, that was it.

What he really wanted was to grab that gorgeous hair, wrap it around his fists for purchase so he could fuck her face. Not dignified. But he wanted it with so much greed it clawed at him.

She pulled back and looked up at him. The sight of those eyes and the expression on her face shocked him to his toes.

“Is there a problem?” One brow rose.

He laughed, giving in enough to caress her face and head. “Only the wealth of options you present.”

“Liar.”

“I don’t know you well enough yet.”

“Hm. You know me well enough to put your cock in my mouth.”

Put that way . . .

He licked his lips.

“I said I didn’t play games when it came to sex and I meant it. I think you should do the same.”

He didn’t want to scare her off. God knew he wanted at this woman for a while to come. But she was right.

“Get back to work.”

His tone changed, and then his expression did. It sent a shiver through her and there was nothing more she wanted than to do exactly as he’d asked. No. Commanded.

So she did.

She knew he’d been holding back. Could feel the fine muscle tension in his arms as he’d touched her.

And then he shoved his fingers through her hair and tugged hard enough to bring a gasp, which quickly turned into a moan. That did things to her; shivers ran riot over her skin as her control slipped.

He tugged. Using her hair. Bringing her mouth on him closer, sending his cock farther back into her mouth.

She hated it when men touched her head during a blow job. But this was . . . different. Like a whole different planet.

He groaned and thrust as he pulled her forward, using her hair.

She struggled to get her breathing right, fought back panic. But she could do this, damn it. She wanted to do it. Wanted to make him feel good. Got off on the way he handled her, taking what he wanted.

And in a minute or two, she found her rhythm, got her breathing regulated and relaxed.

She hummed and he snarled. The satisfaction of affecting him like that seemed to shoot straight to her nipples, which throbbed in time with her thundering heart.

“Goddamn, yes. Like that. Christ, you’re so fucking hot.”

She held on, breathing, licking and sucking until his taste filled her, the hot wet of him titillated as she took everything he had to give.

And when she pulled back and kissed him, he picked her up, raining kisses all over her face as he moved her to his bed and lay her there with so much care she had to open her eyes to look at him.

He was smiling. “Wow.”

It made her laugh as he joined her, the heat of his body against hers.

“Thanks.”

“Now it’s my turn to get a taste.”

He kissed her. Kissed her so long and slow and deep she thought she’d burst from her skin. She was pretty sure she hadn’t kissed like this in fifteen years at least. There was sex now, and so the kiss got short shrift on the way to fucking, which was a certainty. Back in the days of the long make-out, sex was an oh-my-god-I-hope-she-lets-me thing.

But this man knew he’d fuck her. And he kissed her long and slow because he wanted to. It was disarming and the panic returned. She was a kiss-a-few-times, fuck-hard-and-fast-and-go-home sort of woman. It suited her. But this was soul-deep fucking. Jonah Warner got under her skin, saw into her heart, and there were things inside she didn’t want anyone knowing.

But he wasn’t one to be rushed.

She took his hand and put it on her breast. He twisted the bar until she gasped into his mouth. And then he slid that hand all along her arm, clasping her fingers with his. And kept kissing.

He nipped her bottom lip. So hard it sent ripples of pain through her body. And then he returned to lave the sting with such gentleness it cut through her.

He kissed her, licked her tongue, her lips, he nipped and laved, sucked and seduced her mouth until she’d have given him just about anything.

And he was only getting started.

Later, she’d realize this was probably the moment she’d gotten in over her head with this man. But she couldn’t think straight. Not with his hands on her. Not with the way he made her feel singing through her veins. She was drunk with him.

He finally pulled back, his face still very close to hers. His lips swollen from those long, drugging kisses. “You taste so good.”

She swallowed hard. She worked to reclaim her inner sex vixen, but he rendered her a lazy mess, like a kitten in a freaking patch of sunshine.

He kissed along her jawline. Back to the spot just below her ear. She hadn’t realized what an erogenous zone it was until he put his mouth there, hot, and sent sensation straight to her clit. She was so wet right then, just from kisses, for god’s sake. She should have been embarrassed. But really, she only wanted him to keep on doing whatever it was he wanted. So he could continue to make her feel.

Nibbling across her collarbone, he took his time. Tasting her. Teasing her senses. The edge of his teeth surprising her when he nipped or abraded her skin with them.

“You’re a master at this,” she managed to murmur, sounding like a drunk.

“It’s all you.” He kissed along her rib cage, down her side. Up her belly until at long last he got to her tits.

“Hallelujah.”

He chuckled as he nibbled along the swell beneath her nipple.

“I love how this looks.” Then he flicked his tongue over her nipple until it hardened, tugging on the bar, stealing her breath. She’d always found the bars to enhance nipple play. But this was—like the rest of Jonah—something else entirely.

He licked and then tugged on the bar with his teeth, wracking her system with pleasure so sharp she had to clench her teeth.

“Mmmm. You like that.”

“Uh, yes. I’m voting yes on everything you’ve brought to the table so far.”

“Good to know.”

He moved to her other nipple and did the same magic there. Nipples were great and all, but she wasn’t usually one of those women who could come just from nipple stimulation. But Jonah’s mouth might prove that wrong.

The scratch of his scruff only made the experience hotter as he abraded her skin. He kissed down her belly, over to the hollow at each hip. She floated in a haze of pleasure. She might have begged him to get on with it, but it probably never actually got out of her mouth.

He ran his tongue through the seam where her thigh met her leg. On one side and then kissed over to the other.

Then—sweet baby Jesus, thank you—he finally pushed her thighs wide.

She was a feast.

That’s really all there was to it. Raven was a lush bounty and he couldn’t seem to stop himself from binging. Her mouth, dear god, that mouth, so delicious. It certainly didn’t hurt that her lips were swollen from his cock. Her skin tasted just right. Like nothing he’d had before. But he wanted it. Wanted more. Those pierced nipples had done him in. So fucking hot.

And now he stared at the ring nestled between her labia.

“Your clit is pierced. Holy fuck.”

“Not my clit. The hood.”

Her words were slightly slurred, slow and lazy. Good.

His cock wanted him to be aware that it was just fine and ready to go again. He wanted inside that glistening cunt.

But first he was going to eat her until he made her come really, really hard.

He leaned in close and breathed her in. Then he licked. So. Fucking. Good.

Hot.

The appeal of the piercing wasn’t something he could deny. He tugged gently at first. But her moans deepened when he increased pressure, so he tugged harder.

He reached down to grab her ankles, shoving her feet up and back, spreading her open wide and utterly at his mercy.

More of this woman’s bounty to take.

And he did. Licking and sucking, fucking her with his tongue. He wanted this to last.

Her clit was swollen and hard. Each time he licked over the piercing she gave a long, shuddering sigh. Probably mimicking the one in his head. Over and over. She was so amazingly responsive to his touch. So he just kept touching.

It was the way he sucked her clit into his lips, licking the underside after he’d tugged on that damned ring, that finally pushed her over. Her back bowed, muscles seized and she groaned long and hard as her taste filled every part of him in a hot, slick rush.

He found the muscle control to reach for the nightstand.

She opened her eyes and stretched lazily, grabbing him with her thighs and holding on. “Where you goin’?”

He held the foil package up for her to see. “Just a quick intermission.”

Her smile made him even harder.

“Roll over. Ass up. Head down.”

She complied so easily he had to take a deep breath and count to ten before he touched his cock to put the condom on.

“Goddamn, you’re like a work of art.”

He lined up at the notch of her cunt and pressed in, the breath leaving him. So hot she scalded him through the latex. She pressed back, taking him in deep and he slapped her ass without thinking. Then he snatched his hand back, unable to tear his gaze from the rising, red handprint he’d created.

But she didn’t punch him or recoil in horror. Instead her cunt gripped him tighter, so tight he nearly saw stars when he had to close his eyes to get his control back.

“I decide the pace.”

“All right.”

He rewarded her with a hard thrust and she gave him a moan that shot through his system.

Her skin was beautiful and pale. The mark he made only spiced the edge of his hunger. He wanted to see a bite mark, or the bruise from his thumb. Wanted to know she’d wear the evidence of the way he’d been in her, long after she’d left his house.

Greed for her seemed to rush through him. Desire so deep he struggled against it until he realized there was no way out and simply gave in. She’d been different from the first moment he’d spoken to her. Hell, even before that as he’d caught sight of her at the edges of the few events they’d both been part of.

He ran his hands over her curves, over the nip of her waist, the bumps of her vertebrae, the sweet flesh of her ass.

And he gave it another slap. Again, harder than he’d imagined.

It burned. The pain, for long moments, had roused her from that lazy pleasure at the way he’d felt when he’d worked his cock into her pussy. And then the burn spread. Slow and delicious. Tingling.

And then . . . he’d told her he controlled the pace. He’d ordered her around, and for the first time in her life, instead of reacting and pushing back, she let him. And it had been . . . really, really good.

So she let it be.

He’d given her an orgasm from his mouth that had pretty much devastated the memory of every other damned orgasm she’d ever had. And her sex life had been really healthy and awesome. So really, what was the point in arguing when he clearly delivered on the promise to make her feel good?

His cock was fat. Filling her just right. His hands had settled at her hips, fingers digging in to control her movement as he’d begun to fuck her in short, hard digs that sent her tits brushing against the blanket beneath her. Sending slow waves of pleasure through her when she’d just come moments before.

He had game all right.

Jonah fucked her at his pace. Just like he’d said. Slow and hard. A fairly irresistible combination. She’d fallen into a place, a dreamy sort of consciousness, floating on the pleasure, flattered—insanely so—that he so clearly found her desirable.

One hand let go and he got closer as he reached around her waist and down, finding her pussy. She sucked in a breath as he tugged the ring and then squeezed her clit. He played awhile, seemingly testing her to find what she liked best. And then he worked it, over and over and over, until she was coming again and he grunted a strained curse and pushed in deep.

They fell to the mattress. He disappeared for a few moments and came right back, putting an arm over her waist and then pulling her close.

“When I regain the ability to move again, I have ice cream in my freezer.”

“You’re going to propose some sort of Faustian bargain, aren’t you?” She mumbled this into the hard muscle of his biceps. “I mean, awesome sex, great food and now ice cream? Will I have to give you my soul?”

He chuckled. “Maybe.”

And she still didn’t run.

Chapter 4

4

He really couldn’t have said why he found himself standing in front of Written On The Body just three days later.

Which was a total lie. The reason lay just inside. Jonah hadn’t been able to get her off his mind. Her voice, the way she smelled. The feel of her body against his own. She’d lodged herself under his skin, drawing his attention. And he didn’t care to fight it.

That night at his home he’d wanted her to stay over but she’d refused. Politely enough. But when he’d woken up alone and hard, it had only underlined how much more he craved from this woman.

She stood at the counter, grinning up at Brody Brown. Jonah frowned. Oh, he knew there was nothing romantic between them. Not anymore.

Just the evening before he’d seen Levi and Daisy at an art event in town and he’d opened himself up to so much trouble when he’d pumped Daisy for information about Raven. He’d never hear the end of it. From Daisy and from his brother.

He knew though that for a time, many, many years before, Raven and Brody had been a thing. That Brody had been in love with her, or had thought he was, and she’d never wanted to settle down and had been with someone else. Daisy had been careful to underline, though, that Raven, by all reports, had been clear with Brody that she wasn’t monogamous. It had meant something to know she hadn’t cheated.

But the two were close to this day. Daisy had indicated that there was trouble when Brody’s wife, Elise, had first come onto the scene, but the two women had worked things out, and that she was extremely connected to Brody and Elise’s daughters.

He knew she wasn’t seeing anyone seriously. Again, Daisy had underlined her lack of wanting to see anyone seriously. Which Jonah thought was bullshit. If anyone deserved some seriously, it was Raven. She needed a man to cherish her. To anchor her. He was old enough to understand this thing he felt about her was way more than infatuation. There was a lot of getting to know each other to be done. But he knew what he wanted, and he got what he wanted.

He wanted Raven.

She turned her head at the sound of the bell at the door and her smile changed when she recognized him. She was touched. And he was doubly glad he’d come by.

“Hello, Jonah. What brings you here?” She moved around Brody to him and triumph heated his gut.

He took her hands, linking his fingers with hers, tugging her into a hug. She went willingly, kissing the side of his neck as she did.

“You bring me here. Are you free for lunch?”

“I have a piercing coming in in five minutes. After that I’m free for a few hours.”

“You do piercings too?”

She smiled as he released her and she stepped back. “I do. Why? You got something you want me to pierce?”

“Maybe later.”

She laughed.

“So how about I hang out for a few and we can head out when you finish? Is that all right?”

She shrugged. “Sure. Or you can pop over next door and grab a coffee or something and I’ll collect you when I’m done.”

“Can I watch you work? Or is it a piercing in a place I can’t see?”

“It’s an eyebrow piercing so you can watch from this chair here. My station is there.” She pointed.

He grinned. “All right then.”

Her client came in and he didn’t fail to notice the more-than-friendly kiss the woman planted on Raven’s mouth.

“An ex. But really ex.” Brody stretched out in the chair next to Jonah.

“Am I that obvious?”

Brody laughed. “Nah.”

“I know there are women in her past too. I’m not shocked or anything.” If he couldn’t hold her attention, it wasn’t that he was male. He knew enough about their chemistry to understand it was more than that for her anyway.

Brody sucked in a breath and began to speak, but held back.

“What?”

“She’s a lot more than she appears to be on the outside. I know you’ve been asking around about her. She’s abrasive sometimes. Blunt. But she’s not as tough as you might think.”

“I’m not out to hurt her.”

“That’s good. Because she’s had enough of that in her life. Just don’t go thinking she’s someone you can tame. That way lies madness. Heartache.”

Well, Jonah tended to think that she’d find the right person one day. There was vulnerability there, just beneath her surface. That was the Raven that so fascinated him.

“I like her. She likes me. It’s a good start. And how did you know I was asking around?”

Brody laughed. “I suppose I should let you know that nothing stays secret for long in our group. Gillian is very protective of Raven. She knows from Daisy, who is one of her besties. And then Erin found out and told Elise, who then told me. They wanted to know about you. If you fuck her over, it won’t just be my foot in your ass. You’ll have a gaggle of pissed-off women to be scared of.”

Jonah knew enough of Daisy to truly understand that threat. The women who his brother’s lady love surrounded herself with were strong and fierce as well as hot. “I thought she and your wife had a strained thing?”

Brody snorted. “At first, yes. But that was years ago. Raven is really special to me and Erin. She’s good to my kids. She’s good to my wife. Once she lets you in, there’s a whole different side to her.”

“And you?”

“Raven has repeatedly been there for me when I needed her to be. Without having to be asked. She moved up here more permanently after Alexander was born to be with Erin when Erin needed her. She is a friend in the deepest sense of the word. She’s my family. And if you fuck her over, I will fuck you over right back.”

Raven finished up and turned back, raising a brow when she caught him talking with Brody. She took payment and waved as her friend left.

“Whatever are you two talking about?” She came to stand in front of Jonah, holding her bag.

“I was telling him that you’d do a great job on his tattoo.” Brody stood and Jonah did as well.

“Ready to go?” He held out an arm and Raven linked hers with it.

“Sure.”

“Know any good places nearby?”

“The café next door is good. Erin owns it and still works there a few days a week.”

“I won’t have you to myself, will I?”

“Probably not. I’m totally irresistible, you see. Everyone loves me.”

He put an arm around her shoulder to pull her closer. She wore snug jeans and boots with a really fantastic red sweater that hugged her curves. “I certainly think you’re irresistible. And you smell really good.”

“My goodness, I already let you see my boobies. You’re being awfully nice.”

“I’m a nice guy.”

“You’re pretty nice. And you eat pussy like a champion.”

He paused, swinging her to face him. “It’s a beautiful pussy.” He kissed her quickly and released, pulling her back to his side as they kept walking.

“There’s a little Thai place just ahead. I like it. The food is decent.”

“Some tea would be good.”

The place was packed, but after a five-minute wait they got a table and settled in.

He pulled her chair out and to his surprise, she allowed it. But when he sat, she put the napkin on his lap.

They ordered. She waited for him to lead, which . . . affected him and he wasn’t entirely sure why.

But she was sure to order tea for them both and when it arrived she poured it out. “Do you take sugar?”

He took her hand instead, kissing her palm. “I like it that you’re taking care of me. That you know I’m capable of it but you do it anyway.”

She smiled. “Oh. Well. Thank you.”

Shy fit her well. He loved her boldness, yes, but this side to her was alluring as well.

He let go. Reluctantly. Sipping his tea, he took her in.

“What?”

“Do I make you nervous, Raven?”

“You know you do when you do that look thing you’re doing now.” She sipped her tea. “And. You like it.”

He laughed. “I guess I do. Are you having a good day?”

“Much better now that a handsome man swept into work and took me to lunch. How about you?”

“I had a hearing this morning. Went to a charity board meeting up here, that’s why I was in the neighborhood.”

“Which charity?”

“It’s one of my mother’s favorites. Created Families. A program that gives support to foster parents. It’s a tough thing. Half a million kids are in the foster care system. They don’t get the support they need and we’ve essentially just been writing off generations of kids. And the families who are in the program struggle. They have good intentions but often get lost in the system.”

She stiffened and he put his cup down, concerned.

“Everything all right?”

She took a deep breath. “Yes. Fine.”

“Liar. Is it the foster care stuff?”

“I am not opposed to foster care.” She said it so carefully, so very stiff.

“You sure you didn’t go to law school? That answer was pretty classic. These kids need help. There aren’t enough homes for them. No one should have to spend their childhood bouncing from place to place.”

“No, they shouldn’t.”

Then he got it. “You were in foster care?”

She looked down at her plate for long moments and he was sorry he’d followed up because while he wanted to know her, he didn’t want to cause her heartache.

“I was, yes.”

The food arrived and she busied herself dishing things up, asking him what he wanted and how much. It seemed to smooth them both a little.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

She waved it away. “I was in and out of foster care from four to seventeen. So I know firsthand that kids shouldn’t bounce around from place to place. It’s nice that you’re trying to help.”

He wanted to say more but the look on her face told him she was done talking about the subject.

“So how about you come over Friday night? For the first tattoo installment. I promise you dinner and well-made martinis.”

She pulled her phone out and checked her calendar. In some women he’d have suspected it was an affectation made to appear busy, but he saw plenty of things written down. And then got annoyed that she didn’t say yes right away.

Which then annoyed him that he’d expect something like that.

“Friday works. I can come over at eight thirty.”

“Good. Do you have days off?”

“Yes, usually one weekend day and one weekday. It gives Brody time with his family if I spot him on the weekends. Why?”

She used her chopsticks like an expert. He liked the grace with which she moved. And the way she seemed to step in and help her friends.

“Come spend the day with me. We can go see the leaves. Drive up north a bit, have a nice meal, drive back. Do you like jazz?”

“I like most kinds of music. Especially live.”

“There’s a place. In SODO. Big band jazz. We can stop off at the house and then go for a drink and some music.”

Her face lit and he was glad he’d suggested it.

“Yes. I’d love that.”

“All right then. I have some work Saturday, but I have Monday off.”

“Okay then.”

He wanted to push it a little. “You should wear red. I like you in red. And your hair down.”

She looked him over as she ate for long moments. “All right.”

Raven liked how he backed off after she’d told him about being in foster care. She liked how he’d opened her door and pulled out her chair. It had been . . . odd, yes, odd the way a thrill had rushed through her when he’d told her to wear red and leave her hair down.

If another man had said the same thing, in the same bossy tone he’d used, she’d have gotten up and left the restaurant. But he wasn’t another man. And her pussy seemed to really like it when he got bossy with her.

Probably something she should get therapy for, like everything else in her life, but a girl needed a few issues, right?

He insisted on paying and she let him. It was thirty bucks anyway. He insisted on walking her back, her hand in his as he spoke about this or that, nothing serious or heavy.

He shielded her body with his own, walking on the outside, moving in front of her if a crowd came walking from the opposite direction. It was courtly. Gentlemanly.

No one treated her that way. But he did.

It shouldn’t have mattered. It was just manners. But it did. And she wasn’t sure if she wanted it not to matter more than she liked that it did.

At the door to the shop he paused, pulling her out of the doorway. He pulled her close and she wrapped her arms around his neck.

“Thanks for sharing your time with me.”

“I’m glad you came out. I know it’s not exactly near your office.”

He shrugged. “My office is in the north part of downtown. It’s really only about ten minutes away. And.” He paused, bending down to kiss her, warmth rushing through her system at that contact. “I like seeing you.”

“Like fried food.”

Confusion washed over his features. “Hm?”

“I really like it. But it’s super bad for me. And yet, I can’t get enough. You’re like egg rolls.”

His confusion was replaced by a rather rakish grin. “I’m way less fattening.”

“I’ll keep that in mind. See you Friday at your place, then.”

He let her go, hauling her back once more for another kiss before finally opening the door.

“Just gonna watch you walk away. Your ass is spectacular.” He said it quietly, his breath brushing against her ear and sending a shiver through her.

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