8. Raven
RAVEN
“You’re mine. This pussy is mine. The rest of your body is mine,” I growled as I leaned in close to her heat. My eyes flicked to hers. “And do you know how I treat something that’s mine?” Pupils blown wide, she waited for my answer. A bead of sweat ran down my spine as I spit on her…
There’s a loud knock at the door, and I groan.
Who the hell is interrupting my writing sprint?
I’ve already turned in my article to the newspaper, so I have no other responsibilities other than finishing my current work in progress.
I’m ovulating. The enemies are about to be lovers.
All I want to do is write the filthiest sex scene possible before the kids get home from school.
Another knock raps, more persistent than the last. I sigh and close my laptop.
I look down, noticing the crumbs on my chest, and brush myself off as I stand and pull my robe tighter.
Whoever is at the door is getting bridge-troll Raven, complete with day-old hair in the sloppiest bun, last night’s makeup I never took off thanks to Jonah’s bedtime meltdown, and no-bra titties that cannot be contained by some barbaric man-made contraption.
I swing the door open right as Sawyer lifts his fist to knock again. “Uhh, sorry,” he stammers as he does a slow once-over of my attire.
Good. Maybe he’ll get it out of his system.
Who the fuck am I kidding? If our disastrous first meeting didn’t scare him off, an unshowered Raven probably won’t either.
He stands there for several heartbeats, still leering. His eyes keep coming back to my chest. Typical. Then I look down and realize that my robe has slipped open, revealing more skin than I’d like, and I’m only wearing panties underneath. I pinch the fabric closed in one hand. “Get your fill?”
“Not nearly enough,” he rasps before shaking his head to clear his thoughts. “Now if you don’t mind, I have work to do.” He takes a step toward me, and I step back, letting him pass.
“What work do you think you’re doing?” I ask his retreating form as he climbs the stairs.
“I need to finish installing dimmer switches for the lights.”
Did I agree to let him help with the house in my painkiller-induced haze? Did my friends put him up to this? “Thank you for helping with the curtains, I appreciate it, but I’m good.”
“No, you’re not.”
“Excuse me?” I follow him toward the guest bedroom.
“Just need to get some tools.”
“Did you leave that here so you’d have an excuse to come back?”
“Brains and beauty. You’re the total package.” He winks at me over his shoulder, and I roll my eyes as I stand in the doorway.
Do I check out his ass when he bends over to retrieve his toolbox? Maybe. Okay, yes, but in my defense, it’s a great ass.
Once he has what he needs, he approaches me, propping an arm on the doorframe above me as he leans in, close enough that his subtle woodsy scent overwhelms me but far enough that I can’t touch him. Which is fine since I don’t want to touch him.
Do I want to touch him?
“Need to get by you, gorgeous.”
“Knock it off.”
“What?”
“I haven’t showered, I’m in a house robe, there are probably crumbs still on my chest, and a bird could nest in my hair.”
He tilts his head. “Is that so?” He leans in closer. Impossibly close. If I turn my head toward him, I’m certain my lips would graze his cheek. I’m struck with the urge to arch my neck toward him. It’s confusing. My characters behave like this—I don’t.
When Sawyer inhales deeply, something tingles in my core. I shift slightly. Holy shit, I’m wet. I can feel my panties dampening. I squeeze my thighs together like that could hide the evidence. Am I turned on?
“Fuck, wildfire, you smell edible.”
I stare at him, mouth agape. My head is spinning, and I don’t know what to focus on, the infuriating pet name or the way his words and proximity are turning me on.
He steps back, motioning for me to step aside by crooking two fingers to the side. What would it feel like if he moved his fingers inside me like that? What is happening to me?
“You’re blushing. I didn’t know that was something you were capable of.”
“I’m not blushing.” Fuck, he’s right. My cheeks are hot. I fidget with the belt of my robe, and his eyes drop to my chest.
“You’re blushing there too.” He points to my cleavage, which has made another appearance.
When I look down, he taps my nose. “Didn’t think you’d fall for that.
” He chuckles softly as he brushes past me and lumbers down the hall.
I stand there in shock for a moment as the effect of his touch penetrates my nervous system.
“Where are you going?” Why am I chasing this man?
He continues down the hall, speaking over his shoulder. “I’m gonna take care of the lighting downstairs.”
I hustle down the steps behind him, struggling to keep up since I’m still flustered by the way his innocuous touch affected me. I’m so focused on my feet as I descend, I don’t realize he’s stopped until I run into his back.
“If you wanted a ride, you could’ve asked,” he says, squatting as he looks at me over his shoulder. Does he think I’m about to climb on for a piggyback?
“I don’t want to ride you.”
“Could’ve fooled me.” He stands, his eyes flicking to my crotch.
Can he see how wet my panties are? I grab at the fabric of my robe, holding it closed. Why am I entertaining this man?
“Did you pick out new flooring? Is that what those boxes are?”
“Shouldn’t you know the answer to that? What kind of contractor are you?”
“You always gonna bust my ass this hard?”
“Are you going to keep asking stupid questions?”
He smiles, the creases around his blue eyes deepening. “Your fire doesn’t scare me.”
I have no idea how to respond to that. The urge to lob another insult at him is strong, but what’s the use? It seems to turn him on more.
There are a million things I should be doing right now. Instead, I stand in the space between the foyer and living room, watching as Sawyer bends over to inspect the boxes. He’s got to be doing that on purpose, hoping I’ll check out his ass.
I’m so engrossed in my leering that his voice startles me. “Take a picture. It’ll last longer.”
Puffing out my cheeks, I stomp over to my office and plop into my chair.
My fingers drum the keys as my eyes peek over the top of my screen.
Sawyer is down on all fours, ass in the air, crawling around like a dog.
I shake out my hands and type. Every so often, a noise steals my focus, and I sneak a glance at him.
I thought he was going to fix the lighting?
One minute he’s ripping out flooring, the next he’s sanding.
Several other tools are laid out, but he ignores most of them as he flits around the room, hopping from one thing to the next.
It’s chaos, but I don’t have time to manage it.
I’m on a deadline. I shove a handful of Jonah’s leftover crackers in my mouth and continue typing.
Minutes later, a hand slaps my desk, and I peer up into his warm blue eyes while his flick down to my chest again. “Hey, gorgeous.”
“Jesus Christ. You act like you’ve never seen a pair of boobs before.” I clutch my robe closed.
“I got you something.” He reaches into his back pocket and hands me a stack of what looks like notecards.
“What’s this?”
“They’re paint swatches. So you can pick out your favorite.”
I flip through the samples. “They’re all gray.”
“Exactly. I figured you’d need at least fifty shades of gray for your sex dungeon.”
I bite my lip to hold in the chuckle that wants to escape. I won’t give him the satisfaction. Instead, I roll my eyes and give him my most menacing glare.
“Ah, practicing your domme face, I see. You’re gonna need to look more intimidating than that if you want me to crawl on all fours for you, madame.”
I ignore the bolt of lust that jab gives me. If he only knew. “If I’m not mistaken, you’ve been crawling around my floor all morning. And I didn’t even have to pull out my riding crop to get you to do that.”
Shock lights up his face, his eyes widening slightly before they flick down to my lips.
This has gone too far. For fuck’s sake, he works for me.
Wait, does he work for me? I still don’t remember agreeing to this.
This horny repartee could be considered sexual harassment.
I need to stop engaging him. Even if it’s fun.
Even if it spikes my dopamine. Even if it gives me a rush of warmth between my thighs.
He looks at my chest again, and I lose my battle with self-control. Part of me wants to shut him up so he can get back to work and get out of my house. And another part of me wants to throw logic aside and do something wild. Fuck it.
I roll back in my chair, slowly standing as I grip the edges of my robe and hold it open. “Is this what you want? You’ve been staring at them since you got here. Go ahead, get your fill.”
His eyes fixate on my left breast as I try to maintain my mask of confidence.
“You’ve got a… uhh… there’s something on your…
” He reaches toward my breast, and I look down in horror as he peels a Cheez-It off my nipple.
Ever so slowly, he brings it to his lips, popping it in his mouth before I can stop him.
He points to my other breast. “You saving that Goldfish for later, or is that up for grabs too?”
I look down, and there’s a Goldfish cracker perched atop my breast. Before I can answer his ridiculous question, he plucks it off my skin and eats it.
“When I pictured eating food off your body, kids’ snacks were not what I had in mind.”
“For fuck’s sake.” I close my robe in a huff, tightening the belt. “Get back to work.”
“Yes, ma’am. I like it when you boss me around.” He walks back to the living room before I can reply.
I sink into my chair and resume typing, but the banging from across the way gets louder. I pop my earbuds in and blow out a deep breath, cracking my neck. It’s no use. I can hear the racket through my earbuds, so I take them out since they hurt my ears.
“Shit!” Sawyer slurs as he clutches his face. Great. The last thing I need is for him to hurt himself on the job. I don’t want to sound like a jerk, but this is exactly why I wanted to hire a professional. There’d be protocols in place to handle this, and I need rules and order to feel in control.
Sawyer sinks onto his knees, still holding his cheek as I saunter over to him. His face twists in agony, and something stabs in my chest. Concern, maybe? It’s similar to the feeling I get when Jonah has a meltdown. Fuck, am I worried about him? Do I care about him?
He leans over and spits something into his hand that looks like a tiny tooth.
Fucking RJ. “Your first mistake was not using fake blood.” I bend down and pick up one of his “teeth” and pop it in my mouth as he watches in horror.
I’m not sure if he’s scared that I figured out his prank or horrified that I’d eat something that was in his mouth.
“Your second mistake was using comically tiny Tic Tacs instead of Chiclets. Wow, your teeth are minty fresh.”
A wolfish grin lights up his face. “All the better to eat you with, my dear.”
“That was lame. Do better.”
“The prank or the comeback?”
“Both,” I say over my shoulder as I return to my desk to write.
This has RJ written all over it, but I can’t figure out why he’s doing this. Does he want me to date his boss? Is he fucking with me because I set him up with Summer? He’d been pining after her his whole life; I did them a favor.
Why Sawyer is going along with this is beyond me. I know he said he liked me, but is he really that desperate? Taking dating advice from my brother is the worst thing he could do.
I write romances for a living, so I know how things should play out.
But in a book, I get to write both parts and get in both characters’ heads.
So when the hero does something mean or out of character, I know the reason why.
But real life doesn’t give you a cheat code like that.
And who the fuck knows why men do the things they do?
This is why I’ve avoided relationships. People react in ways I don’t understand or predict.
It’s unsettling. Why is he doing this? To piss me off?
Pull my pigtails? Maybe he thinks he’s that funny?
Is this my autistic brain overthinking, or are his actions normal?
I should shut this down, but he’s oddly intriguing.
I might need reinforcements.