Chapter 43
CHAPTER 43
RAVEN
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-sweet dreams are made of this-
I wake up suddenly from the edges of a restless sleep. My eyes flutter open, and I immediately notice the dim glow of flickering light painting the walls of my bedroom. My heart quickens with panic. Something’s wrong. I feel it in my chest. Even the room seems colder. I sit up and clutching a blanket tightly around me, I move toward the window, the source of the light.
Pressing my palm to the icy glass, I squint into the darkness. The yard is bathed in the orange hue of flames. My breath catches when I see Earl—tall, motionless, his face lit by the fire consuming broken bits of wood and a canvas.
The sight sends a shiver down my spine, not from the cold or the raw intensity of his stance, but because I know exactly what he is burning.
The blanket falls away from my shoulders and my knees nearly buckle. “The painting?” I whisper, trying to make sense of it.
Why is he doing this? What does it really mean?
Suddenly, he turns his head and looks up at me. He looks at me as if he’s seeing a ghost. His expression is agonized. For a long moment, we stare at each other.
Then I retreat to the bed and sit on the edge, my hands clasped tightly together. My chest feels tight, my breaths come in shallow gasps. Earl, what are you letting go of?
Then the door opens, and I glance up sharply. Earl steps inside, his eyes look at me as if nothing else in the world matters to him. The faint scent of smoke clings to him, mingling with the cooler air of the room.
I don’t speak. I can’t. The warmth of him feels like a balm against the raw ache inside me. He moves, the light from the hallway framing him like a halo.
He walks to the fallen blanket, picks it up and approaches me. When he stops in front of me, I can feel the heat radiating from his body. Gently, he places the blanket around my shoulders. The tension is thick, almost overpowering, but I don’t pull away. My fingers clutch the soft wool tightly as if bracing for something I dare not name. Dare not hope for.
“Are you alright?,” he asks, his voice soft but laced with something deeper, something that stirs the air between us like a tangible thing.
I nod, my throat too tight to form words. Instead, I reach up my hand, my fingers brushing lightly against his chest. His breath hitches, and for a moment, we’re both frozen, caught in the wonder of each other.
Then I rise to my feet, the blanket slipping from my shoulders to pool at my feet. The cold air brushes against my skin, but I don’t care. All I can focus on is him—on the way his eyes darken as they roam over me, on the way his chest rises and falls with each unsteady breath.
I step closer, my hands finding their way to the hem of his shirt. “I never thought the smell of smoke would be such a turn-on,” I whisper.
He shakes his head. “You should rest.” His voice is resolute.
But he doesn’t stop me as I lift his shirt over his head, revealing the lean, strong lines of his body. My hands glide over his skin, the warmth of him is beautiful.
“Raven,” he warns, but his voice is a husky murmur.
I silence any further protests with a kiss. Soft and tentative at first, but the moment he responds, everything shifts. His arms wrap around me, pulling me flush against him, and the kiss deepens, igniting a fire that burns hotter than the one outside.
He tries to pull back, his hands gripping my arms as if to steady himself. “You’re not well enough,” he breathes, his voice strained.
“I’m well enough for this. Let’s make a deal. You do all the hard work and I’ll just lie back and enjoy myself,” I reply, my lips brushing against his.
But he hesitates.
“I need you. Please.”
Something in him snaps when he hears me beg. He scoops me up in one fluid motion and carries me to the bed. The world tilts as he lays me down gently, his body hovering over mine.
The air between us crackles with anticipation as I reach for him, my fingers trailing down his chest. He shudders under my touch, his restraint unraveling with every second.
“Raven, baby,” he murmurs, his voice thick with emotion.
“It’s been so long since I heard you call me that,” I whisper, guiding his hands to the hem of my gown.
He hesitates for a heartbeat, his eyes searching mine, but then he gives in. The gown slips over my head, and his hands follow, exploring every inch of me with reverence.
When he leans down, pressing his lips to my collarbone, a soft gasp escapes me. His kisses are a sinner’s kisses, slow, deliberate, each one a confession, a silent apology, and a promise to do better.
My hands tangle in his hair, pulling him closer as his lips trail lower. His breath against my skin sends a shiver down my spine, and I arch into him, needing more.
“Oh baby,” he groans, his voice breaking as his control slips further.
And the intensity of his gaze steals the breath from my lungs, and then he kisses me again, pouring every ounce of himself into it.
His lips are firm yet tender, the heat of his mouth igniting something primal within me. I cling to him as if letting go might shatter this fragile moment, my hands threading through his smoke-scented hair, tugging him closer.
His kisses move down the curve of my neck leaving a trail of fire in their wake. His fingers trace the outline of my collarbone, his touch reverent, as though he’s memorizing the lay of my skin. When his lips close around the sensitive peak of my breast, a gasp escapes me. The sensation sends a delicious shiver racing down my spine.
My body arches into him, desperate for more.
But he doesn’t rush. He lingers, his tongue flicking over the hardened nub, his teeth grazing just enough to drive me wild. A whimper escapes my lips, and I feel him smile against my skin, his hands splaying across my waist as if to steady me. The warmth of his breath against my bare skin makes goosebumps rise, and I can’t stop trembling.
“You’re perfect,” he murmurs, his voice rough with emotion. “Every inch of you.”
A mixture of vulnerability and longing swells inside me. He continues his journey, his lips exploring every curve, every hollow, every freckle and scar, as though they hold stories he’s desperate to learn. His hands skim the length of my thighs, parting them gently, his gaze flicking up to meet mine.
There’s a question in his eyes, a silent request for permission.
I nod and he leans forward, pressing his forehead against mine for a brief, heart-stopping moment before he claims my mouth again. The weight of his body settles over me, grounding me, and I can feel his need pressing against me, undeniable and urgent.
When his hard cock finally pushes into me, the world blurs at the edges. The stretch is exquisite, a perfect ache that steals the air from my lungs. I cry out, my nails digging into his shoulders. He kisses my temple, my cheeks, murmuring soothing words I can barely hear over the pounding of my heart.
“Tell me if it’s too much,” he whispers, his voice shaking. “I’ll stop. I don’t want to hurt you.”
I shake my head, tears pricking my eyes from the overwhelming intensity of it all. “It’s not too much and you’re not hurting me,” I say, my voice trembling. “Please, don’t stop.”
He moves slowly at first, each thrust deliberate and measured, as though he’s holding himself back. But the tension between us builds like a storm, and soon we’re lost in it, our movements frantic and desperate. My legs wrap around his waist. Once he is anchored to me, I tilt my hips to meet him, each collision of our bodies sending incredible sparks of pure pleasure skittering through me.
“Raven,” he groans, his voice raw with emotion. The way he says my name like it is a prayer, makes me almost climax. I cling to him, my arms wrapping around his back, my nails clawing into his back as though he is my lifeline.
The heat between us builds to a fever pitch, each thrust is a shockwave of sensations. It’s overwhelming and consuming, as though I’m teetering on the edge of something infinite. He plunges deeper as his rhythm intensifies.
Every inch of me feels electrified, all my nerves are ablaze with sensation. The weight of him above me, the heat of his skin against mine, the way he fills me completely—it’s too much. My body trembles uncontrollably.
“Earl,” I cry, his name tumbling from my lips as the pressure inside me coils tighter and tighter. I’m so close, but I don’t want this to be over. I try to hold back, but my thighs clench around him and instantly his body understands and he becomes relentless. His thrusts are deep and fast, each one hitting a spot that has me seeing stars.
“You’re perfect. Every part of you.” His voice, low, rough, and thick with desire.
His words unravel me completely, the coil inside me snapping with such force that I feel myself shatter around him, my body convulsing as waves of ecstasy crash over me. It’s blinding, overwhelming, my back arching off the bed as I cry out, his name breaking on my lips. Every muscle in my body trembles as the pleasure floods every inch of me.
His thrusts carry on through the aftershocks, his own climax building as he drives into me one final time. Suddenly, he stills, his body shuddering against mine as he finds his release, a low, guttural sound escaping him as he buries his face in the crook of my neck. His arms tighten around me, his chest heaving.
A strange peace envelops our spent bodies. Our hearts pound in unison and it feels as if there are only two of us tangled together forever.
It is so beautiful and precious that for a long time, neither of us moves until eventually, he shifts carefully and pulls me into his arms, cradling me against his chest. The steady rise and fall of his chest under my cheek—it’s everything I didn’t know I needed.
I listen to the rhythm of his heartbeat as it returns to normal. His fingers trail up and down my back in lazy, soothing patterns, and I close my eyes, letting the calm of the moment wash over me.
A lump forms in my throat and I press a kiss to his chest, the taste of salt from his skin mingling with my tears.
We lie there without saying a word to the other, our bodies entwined. I think of how far we’ve come, of all the hurt and anger we’ve survived, and I feel something new blooming between us—hope. A fragile, beautiful hope that maybe, just maybe, this time will be different.
Eventually, sleep claims us, but we don’t let go of each other. We stay tangled together, our bodies a testament to the love and healing we’ve begun to find our way back to.