Chapter 7
Currently NOT Enjoying Blue Balls
Kane
Raven.
The name suits her. She fires shots like she’s been waiting her whole life to sink her teeth into someone, and I'll be damned if she doesn’t hit the mark every time. And here I am, willingly walking right into her line of fire, not even trying to dodge.
And no, it’s not helping my current case of blue balls. Not even a little.
I meant what I said when I told her that talking to her was refreshing. She’s chaos wrapped in something I can’t seem to tear my eyes away from.
Most of the women I’ve dealt with have no personality. No depth. Sure, some seemed interesting at first, until they weren’t. Give it a few dates, and they’re dull as hell. No spark. No challenge.
Lost in my thoughts, I almost forget that Cam is still in the car until he says, “Are we staying in town?”
I drag a hand over my face, shaking off the lingering pull of the night.
“Yeah,” I nod to the driver, who’s already making his way toward the townhouse.
“Are you going to be able to keep it in your pants around Rachel? She seems into you, but that’s probably the alcohol talking, you’re not that good looking. ”
Cam just laughs, shaking his head. “Of course she’s into me.
” His grin turns cocky, but there’s a flicker of something else there.
“Look, Rachel’s fun, but she’s got a boyfriend.
I’m not exactly losing sleep over it, so if it gets freaky, it’s because she wants it to.
” His voice dips. “That’s on her, not me. ”
I chuckle despite myself, shaking my head. Same Cam, same bullshit.
Then he turns the tables, giving me a pointed look.
“The real question is,” he stretches in his seat like he’s got all the time in the world, “are you going to scare Raven away with your moody, smartass comments? Girls like to be charmed, not glared into a corner, bro.”
“Real funny.”
Cam lifts a brow, daring me to deny it. I don’t.
“Charming’s overrated.”
Doesn’t matter, though. Women like Raven don’t stick around. They set fires just to watch them burn.
Cam has his own place, several, actually. But he crashes here whenever he’s in town. Sometimes I think he thinks I need constant company.
Once we're inside, he heads down the hall, kicking off his shoes as he goes. “I’m heading to bed.”
“Night.”
I reach for the glass of whiskey waiting on the side table, swirling the amber liquid before downing it in one long pull.
One night.
One night, and she’s already under my skin.
I set the empty glass down with a quiet clink, my jaw tightening as I try to think.
When I started my first business, Cam was right there with me. I offered him a partnership, but he said didn’t want to be tied down. Which I get.
I do go out in the field sometimes. Lately it’s been more behind the desk shit. Build. Expand. Repeat.
When I made my first million, I did the usual—traveled, bought a few cars, you name it.
I reinvested, built something bigger. Now, everything runs like a well-oiled machine, and a huge part of that is thanks to Cam.
He works out the kinks and makes shit happen. He thrives on getting his hands dirty.
Real estate, high-end security, discreet personal protection, and occasionally dealing with the people who don’t play by the rules. Everything I do caters to people who have something to lose. People who need someone like me to keep it from slipping through their fingers.
Over the years, I’ve pulled strings, gotten people out of trouble, and out of the headlines. I know how to dig up dirt, how to erase it, and how to make sure people don’t come asking questions.
It’s all part of the game. That’s what keeps me in business.
I drag my hand down my face with a quiet growl. What the fuck am I doing?
Her scent still clings to my skin and I can still feel the press of her body against mine. That and the heat that pulsed between us every time she looked at me like she was daring me to make a move.
Rachel’s smartass blue balls comment? Yeah, that shit hit too fucking close to home.
I exhale slowly, rolling the tension out of my shoulders. She’s beautiful, stunning, actually. And that sharp tongue of hers is going to get her in trouble. She talks a big game, throwing out challenges like she’s waiting for someone to call her bluff.
And fuck, do I want to.
I run a hand through my hair, tightening my jaw as I head to the bathroom. Looks like I’m gonna need that cold shower after all.
I crank the water to freezing, strip, and step under the spray. The shock slams into me instantly, but it does nothing to drown out the thoughts racing through my head.
What I wouldn’t give to run my hands down her body, to grip those smooth thighs and hear exactly what kind of sounds she makes when she’s got no more comebacks left.
Fuck.
“What the hell am I doing?” I mutter to myself.
My fingers curl into fists as the water sluices down my back while my mind spins in circles with every dirty thought I shouldn’t be having about her.
Her long, wild hair tangled around my fist. Her soft gasps as I press my mouth against her throat, dragging my teeth over her perfect skin.
Her smooth, toned little body pinned beneath mine, writhing, begging…
This is a problem.
All night, I had to fight the urge to channel that sharp little attitude of hers into something much more satisfying. I wanted to push her, to see just how far that fire in her eyes would go before it burned out completely.
Being close to her had me hard as a fucking rock faster than I could say, Welcome to Scotland.
Provoking her just to see the sparks flash across her face is going to be my new favorite addiction. If I ever see her again.
Watching her at war with herself, trying to hold back, and pretending she wasn’t affected was intoxicating.
It was fascinating to watch the effort it took for her to stay polite and composed while her real thoughts bubbled just beneath the surface. That raw, unapologetic part of her that broke through when she finally let go is what got me hooked.
No one talks to me like that. Not in a way that makes me want to press them against the nearest wall just to see what sound they’d make. The way her breath hitched when I told her I wanted her number was sharp enough to cut the resolve of a weaker man.
And right now, I’m gripping the shower wall, with my fist tight around my cock because that woman is burned into my fucking brain.
She doesn’t even realize the power she holds, and that might be the most dangerous thing about her.
Watching her get flustered over a simple command was a high I hadn’t expected.
I wanted to see how she’d react, and her stumbling over her words was worth every damn second.
But when she licked her bottom lip and bit down. Fuck me.
I barely managed to keep it together after that.
I pump my hand up and down as my vision goes white. I picture how I could push her and how she’d sound moaning my name.
It doesn’t take long. The sharp pull of release rushes through me and my groan is swallowed by the hiss of the shower as white ropes of cum disappear down the drain. But the tension in my chest doesn’t ease, not even close.
That wasn’t enough. I barely scratched the surface of how much I want her. I crank the water to hot, trying to shake her loose as I scrub a hand over my face. No good can come from this.
Sleep refuses to come. My mind replays the night with painful clarity…
The relief on her face when I told her she was safe did something to me. I could see the way she fidgeted with her phone, trying to stay calm when it died. How her whole posture shifted. She was still guarded, but slightly more open when she realized I wasn’t going to push her.
Maybe I need another cold shower.
I exhale sharply, dragging a hand down my face as I check the time. 5 a.m. I can never get a good night’s sleep, and I already know it's not in the cards for me today.
Cam’s probably still dead to the world, sleeping off last night, which means I have a couple of hours to burn.
I push up from the bed, shoving Raven out of my head where she doesn’t belong, and head straight to the gym. If I don’t do something with this restless energy, it’s going to eat me alive.
I crank up the music, letting the pounding bass drown out my thoughts as I load the bar. Bench press. Squats. Deadlifts. Anything to push my body to the brink, to force myself into exhaustion. With every rep, I push out a little more tension and frustration. Small victories.
I switch to cardio, hitting the treadmill at a punishing speed. My legs pound in a rhythm as brutal as my thoughts. This should be where my mind clears, where I lock in and find my focus.
I crank the speed higher as my pulse pounds in my ears. She’s a distraction I don’t need. I’ve kept my distance from women for a reason.
I try to focus on the job I should be wrapping up in less than forty-eight hours. A high-profile client who needs a delicate situation handled. The money’s good. The target’s worse.
And yet, instead of replaying how I’m going to execute the extraction perfectly, and how there's going to be one less piece of shit running around out there, I’m here, running myself into the ground over a woman I met less than a day ago.
I slow to a stop, wiping sweat from my face, and consider waking Cam up and dragging his ass down here for a round in the ring. A good fight might be the only thing that shakes this shit loose.
“Fuck.”
I mutter the word to myself, dragging the towel across my face.
This is going to be a long fucking day.