11. Christian
Idon’t know what changed her mood from restlessly excited to quietly broody, but it made me come up with one goal: to make sure she’s never sad again during her time in Sweet Haven. Because I know going home will just prolong the latter mood, I drive us in the other direction and try not to get into details until we’re in the next town, which isn’t that far away. Hopetown has a slightly bigger population than ours, and they have one thing we don’t at this time.
When Raven discovers this, her eyes go wide as saucers.
“Is this a fair?”
“Yeah. A town fair, which I’m going to assume you’ve never been to before.”
I can’t help but grin at her fascinated, whispered no. “Amusement parks, yes. But this…does Sweet Haven have this?”
“Once a year, usually in a different month. But this month is Hopetown’s Foundation Month, so they have this up.”
“Oh. So Sweet Haven people visit here, too?”
“They did. It’s the last week, so I don’t think there’s a lot of my folks here now.”
I know Honey Lee never mentioned this to her, considering Raven isn’t supposed to go out, but I feel like I did the right thing when she steps into the enclosed area and her face lights up. When I realize where her gaze is, I nudge her.
“Come on. Let’s see who gets to win the biggest prize.”
A challenge rises in her eyes as we head toward the first booth, where we’re supposed to toss the rings on the bottles. I win that one easily and choose the brown teddy bear. I also win the balloon darts and ping-pong ball toss games, and by the time my arms are laden with plush toys, she’s groaning in protest and rolling her eyes at me.
“You’ve had practice. Of course, you’d know how to hit targets. Can I pick the next game?”
“Sure. But I might still win it.”
I swallow my gloating when she does win the next game, then the next. I try not to stare every time she laughs out loud; her delight is sheer and breathtaking. When we spot a platform with a kiddie pool filled with water below, I shake my head adamantly at the mischievous glint in her eye.
“Absolutely not.”
“But I want you drenched.”
It says a lot about her company that my mind immediately goes to how she can make me wet, but I shake it off and try to keep my thoughts appropriate.
“How about you sit there and I hit the bulls-eye?”
“No. I told you. You’re good at hitting targets. That would be unfair.”
“Fine. Then neither of us is doing that. What else do you want to do?”
She looks around, then points at the Ferris wheel. Because we have too many toys in our hands, we decide to give away some of them to random passersby before we get into one of the Ferris wheel cars. As soon as the ride moves, she grips her bunny toy tightly, then my hand.
“You’ve never been to one of these?”
“I’ve always been wary of heights.” She closes her eyes. “Can you let me know when we get to the top?”
“Sure.”
But I’m not looking at the view. I’m looking at her, the flush on her cheeks so glorious and her mouth parted. I don’t know if it’s because of nerves or excitement, but I’ve never wanted to take that mouth in mine more and just keep kissing her until she melts for me.
It’s a bad idea to rock the car, though—figuratively and literally—so I stay where I am, just content with watching her.
“We’re close to the top. Open your eyes or you’ll miss it.”
She takes a deep breath and opens them slowly, her nerves still there. But they fade bit by bit as she looks around, then gasps with so much giddy disbelief.
“It’s beautiful. I can’t believe I never did this until now.”
She’s the beautiful one, chasing all her fears away one step at a time. It makes me yearn for things I shouldn’t yearn for, and I have to gulp down the lump in my throat.
“Sometimes, we don’t know how brave we are until we stop being careful.”
Amber eyes meet mine, surprised by my statement. A quiet understanding passes between us, but it’s her shoulder bumping against my arm and our comfortable, companionable silence that takes the cake and makes me want to stay on top of the world forever. We have to come down, though.
“Do you want to try the roller coaster next?”
“I’m brave, but I’m not that brave.” She chuckles. “Let’s save that for the daredevils.”
“Fine.” I pretend to roll my eyes, but amusement hums inside me. “Let’s get some snacks, then.”
We line up for some cotton candy and popcorn just as people get off other rides and line up with us. At first, it’s a decent crowd, but when the voices grow louder, and the line becomes more raucous, I notice the shift in her body language. She looks down and avoids my gaze, stiffening her body up.
Then she starts trembling and I know something’s wrong.
“Raven?”
“Please get me out of here.”
The panic in her voice is so palpable that I don’t question it. I take her hand and remove her from the crowd, but I can sense her building distress when we keep bumping into other people. So, I keep walking until I spot a corner booth that’s empty, then what seems to be a shed behind it.
After checking that it’s empty, too, except for some cleaning materials, I usher her in and step in with her, careful to keep it partially open to let some light in. But it cuts down most of the voices, giving us the privacy we need as I focus all my attention on her.
“Hey. It’s okay. I’m here.”
She’s still trembling, so I run my hands over her shoulders and back to soothe her. She leans her head against my chest. When her legs give in, I heft her up and sit her on the old table behind her, which is small but perfect for her size.
“I’m sorry, Christian.”
“You don’t have to be.”
“It’s just that my ex stalked me in a crowd, too, and sometimes it makes me paranoid. I didn’t expect to be triggered again tonight after…a long time.”
Fury rises, clutching at my throat, but I channel it and ease her into an embrace. Then I growl.
“You don’t have to apologize for whatever he made you feel. Don’t you dare.”
Raven looks up at my vehemence. When she opens her mouth, I growl again.
“I swear if you say sorry again, I’m going to punch someone. Not you, obviously.”
She shuts her mouth and nods. Then she tightens her arms around my waist. I know it’s a seeking of comfort, but it’s also a sign of trust that blows my mind away.
We stay like that for the next few minutes, her just calming her nerves down and me content with holding her like this. Then she sighs against me. Then her breath hitches.
It’s at that point that awareness seeps in that I’m still running my hand over her back, but now it’s become an intimate caress that she feels as much as I do. The warmth between us expands…shifts. What was once comforting changes into a tension that I know all too well, and I have to swallow against my constricting throat.
I can hear her swallow, too, and it’s like a gentle scrape against my stomach. It tightens in response, and it’s almost a relief when she finally leans away from the hug to let me breathe.
Almost because I still want her in my arms, with me breathing her in.
Instead, I stay where I am, inches from her. Still so close.
“You good?”
Her gaze flicks up as she nods. The nerves are gone, but her voice is hushed—like she doesn’t want to interrupt whatever this is. “Thank you. For understanding what I needed.”
My voice is gruff when I speak. “I’m trained to read people’s needs.”
“Your client’s needs?”
“Yeah. But you’re also a friend. At least, I hope we are…”
“I suppose we are.” She smiles. “You’re a good friend.”
It’s such a sincere statement that I can’t help my feelings of guilt. I shake my head.
“I’m a bad friend.”
“What—”
“Because if I’m a good friend, I wouldn’t spend this much time thinking about you.”
Her mouth forms an O, but her eyes continuously seek mine out. After a while, she shakes her head, too.
“Then I must be a bad friend, too, because I also can’t stop thinking about you.”
I’m blindsided by the statement but more so by the flash of heat in her eyes that can’t be mistaken for anything else.
“Yeah?”
She nods. Then something comes over—a memory, perhaps a reminder—that has her expression darkening before she looks away.
“Why did you leave?”
“What?”
“That night at the motel. When I woke up barely an hour later, you were gone.”
It takes me a second to catch up and force my thoughts to the subject, but when I do, I realize I never explained my side to her. Call it a defense mechanism or pride, but it was a jerk move, no matter how I think about it.
And it’s time that stopped now.
“Yes, I was. My ex-boss called me for an emergency. I couldn’t turn him down, but I didn’t want to wake you up.”
“Oh.”
“And I returned. Sometime around five in the morning. But you were gone.”
“Oh.”
The second oh feels more meaningful, her eyes widening with it. I can see her gears turning, but she bites her lower lip and I’m distracted.
“Are you and Aimee a thing?”
I blink and look down. “What?”
“Aimee Sutton?”
“Oh.” I can lie, but that’s another jerk move. “Yeah. Sometimes.”
“Sometimes?”
“When we’re in the same place at the same time. We slept together twice. The last one was a year ago…so yeah, but I don’t know if you call that a thing.”
“And now?”
“No. We haven’t hooked up. We haven’t…”
I suck in a breath when her palm rests on my stomach, warmer than it was earlier…no, hotter. Her thumb plays with the hem of my shirt, driving me batshit crazy that I almost miss the next question.
“Why won’t you sleep with clients?”
Her thumb is sin personified, dragging down my belly button, but I grit my teeth and try to reason it out. I have to because I need to be fair to her and let her know how things are.
“Because it’ll complicate things. I can’t have attachments and feelings getting in the way of me protecting you.”
It’s the nail in the coffin, for sure, and it’s painful as I wait for her to finally back off and declare it’s not worth it. Any woman would, and I can’t blame them since these are my hangups, and I know they deserve more.
But shock riddles my system when her hand doesn’t retreat. It keeps going down instead until a button is released, then a zipper is lowered. Then that hand is wrapped around my cock, squeezing until the pleasure flashes hot and cold in my body.
And Raven whispers in my ear.
“Then we won’t involve feelings. Just this.”