Raven #3
“Only when you frown at it like that,” he said softly.
My hand slid higher and caught on another scar. This one was impossible to miss. A pale line cut across his chest, wider than the others, the skin slightly raised beneath my fingertips.
He trembled beneath my touch, his jaw tightening, his heartbeat thudding against my palm.
Before I could ask about it, he caught my hand and pressed it flat over his heart.
“This,” he whispered, eyes locked on mine, “hurts more than all the others.”
My breath caught.
His meaning was clear—pain, fear, wanting, the years he’d tried not to want me back.
I cupped his jaw with my free hand, pulling him down until his forehead touched mine.
“I’m here,” I whispered.
His eyes fluttered shut as he kissed me again, slow and deep.
“Are you sure?” he asked.
“More than sure.” The words came easily.
“Tell me if you need me to stop.”
There was no hesitation in his voice. No frustration. No impatience. Just concern.
I held his gaze and focused on the steadiness I found there. His eyes never left mine as he eased himself inside me. The sensation was foreign and overwhelming.
“Tell me if it’s too much,” he said, his voice low and impossibly tender.
He pressed a little deeper, and I clenched my jaw.
“Just a little more,” he whispered, his thumb brushing my cheek.
I inhaled slowly and forced myself to relax, trusting him completely.
With a final, careful push, he joined our bodies fully. A sharp sting stole my breath, and my muscles tightened instinctively.
“Sam,” I breathed, my voice cracking.
He froze instantly, eyes widening with worry.
“Talk to me, sweetheart,” he said, his hands sliding up to cradle my waist, my ribs, my sides. “Tell me what you need.”
“You.”
Something in his expression softened.
“You have me,” he said quietly. “All of me.”
Sam held me, his body taut with restraint, giving me time to adjust. Time to breathe. Time to decide, once again, that this was exactly where I wanted to be.
When he finally moved, it was slow and careful. Every few seconds, his eyes searched my face, making sure I was still with him.
I couldn't imagine being anywhere else.
With each thrust, he found a rhythm that matched our shared heartbeat. I found myself beginning to relax, allowing the pleasure to flood through me, pulling me deeper into this intimate moment. He shifted slightly, adjusting his angle.
Then everything changed. A rush of sensation stole my breath, leaving me clutching at his shoulders as the world tilted beneath me.
“God, you feel amazing,” he said, the words sounding torn from him.
The look on his face stole my breath.
Every trace of control he'd been fighting to maintain was slipping, leaving behind something raw and honest. Something that belonged only to me.
“Sam,” I whispered, wrapping my legs around him and drawing him closer.
A smile flickered across his face before it vanished beneath the weight of everything passing between us.
He lowered his forehead to mine for a second, his eyes searching mine.
“Do you feel it?” he asked, his voice rough. “How right this feels?”
I could only nod.
The rest of the world seemed to disappear. There was no clubhouse. No rules. No reasons we should stay apart.
Just us.
Every breath. Every touch. Every heartbeat drawing us closer together.
The connection between us deepened until it felt impossible to separate where I ended and he began. The closer he held me, the more everything else faded away.
A familiar tension began to gather low inside me, building steadily.
Sam felt it too.
His breathing grew heavier, his gaze never leaving mine as though he was determined to memorize every second of this.
“Fuck, Raven.” My name came out as a confession—a prayer.
“Please, don’t st—” I started, but the words fell away as the wave crested, crashing over me. I let myself go completely.
The last of his restraint shattered. With my name on his lips, he buried his face against my neck, every muscle in his body tightening before slowly releasing with his own pleasure. For a moment, he held me so tightly.
Then the tension returned.
“I should've stopped this.” The words came out rough. “We can't do this again.”
He rolled onto his back.
I lifted my head and kissed his jaw. “Samuel,” I said softly, “you already know we will.”
And we did.
Again and again.
Until there was no line left to pretend we hadn’t crossed.
Now he touches me like he’s starving. Kisses me like it’s a sin he can’t stop committing. Holds me like he’s terrified I’ll disappear if he lets go.
But no one knows. Because Knox would kill him, and my father would bury him.
So we hide, stealing minutes behind closed doors. Pretending we don’t look for each other in crowded rooms. We lie with our eyes and tell the truth with our hands.
And every time we do, every time we slip away, every time he pulls me into the dark and touches me like I’m his, I know we’re walking a razor’s edge. We’re lying to everyone who matters, and I know one day, we’re going to get caught.
But when Samuel Morgan looks at me like he did tonight?
I don’t care.