Within moments, he’s hard again inside me, a thick, heavy presence that sends shivers of pleasure through my entire body.
He watches my face in the dim lamplight as I unravel for him a second time, my climax a direct result of his will, his touch, his overwhelming presence deep inside me.
15
Chapter 15
Asoft light dances on the ceiling.
I blink, my vision blurry, my mind a slow, syrupy fog.
For a second, I have no idea where I am. The sheets beneath me are soft, the air smells of vanilla and something masculine that is all Raiden.
Then it comes rushing back in a dizzying, X-rated montage. The kidnapping. The argument. The kiss. His mouth, his hands, his body moving inside me. A hot flush creeps up my neck, a mixture of pleasure and dawning embarrassment. I slept. After all that, I just passed out in his bed.
The flicker of light comes from a cluster of thick vanilla candles burning on a bedside table. It casts the room in a warm, intimate glow, making the shadows soft and deep. I feel him move before I see him.
Raiden rises from a chair in the corner of the room. He approaches the bed, and my breath catches.
He’s shirtless, wearing nothing but a pair of grey sweatpants that hang so low on his hips I can see the sharp V of his inguinal lines disappearing beneath the waistband.
He perches on the edge of the mattress, the bed dipping under his weight. He reaches out, his calloused fingers unbelievably gentle as he brushes the hair from my forehead. Then he leans down and presses a kiss to my hair, right at my temple, inhaling deeply.
“Come here,” he says. “You won’t believe it, but I have a little surprise for you for Christmas.”
I sit up, pulling the duvet over my bare chest, suddenly shy. My body feels deliciously sore, used in the best possible way.
I grab my jeans and T-shirt from the floor where he’d tossed them. Raiden watches me pull them on, his eyes tracking every movement with a dark, heavy-lidded intensity that makes my skin prickle.
Once I’m dressed, he takes my hand and leads me out of the bedroom. The apartment—I assume it’s his off-campus place—is spacious and modern, all dark woods, but the room he leads me into is filled with warmth.
In the center of the living room, a small dining table is set for two. More candles are lit, their flames reflecting in the polished wood. But it’s the food that makes me stop in my tracks. There’s a rustic dish of ratatouille, the vegetables vibrant and glistening, a large bowl of deep purple grapes, still on the vine, and a bottle of what looks like nice wine.
Raiden pulls me down, not into a chair, but directly onto his lap. I land with a soft thump against his solid chest. His arms wrap around my waist, holding me securely against him. He picks up a fork, spears a piece of perfectly roasted eggplant from the ratatouille, and lifts it to my lips.
“Eat,” he commands softly.
I obey, the flavor exploding on my tongue. He feeds me another bite, and then plucks a grape from the stem and pops it into my mouth. The sweetness is a perfect counterpoint.
I lean my head back against his shoulder, a laugh bubbling up from my chest. “Okay, you have to admit this is a little weird,” I say, a smile in my voice. “Ratatouille and grapes. How did you know?” I twist around to look at him. “Did you break into my dorm and read my diary? Are you stalking me, Blackwell?”
The corner of his mouth ticks up in that infuriatingly handsome half-smirk. “I hope you don’t think this is the surprise,” he says, his voice a low vibration against my back. “It’s just dinner. Needed to feed you.”
He pauses, his gaze serious. “I’ll tell you about the surprise later.”
We eat in comfortable silence for a few minutes, him feeding me, his body a warm, solid wall behind me. His lips brush my temple, a feather-light touch, and for some reason, the simple, quiet moment feels more magical and significant than any grand Christmas party ever could. But the questions, the loose ends, are still scratching at the back of my mind.
I decide to just ask. I can’t live in this bubble forever.
I clear my throat, turning slightly on his lap so I can see his face. “You really shouldn’t have done it,” I begin, deliberately keeping my voice calm and quiet, so as not to start another fight. “Taking me from the party. Trying to ruin it.”
He doesn’t get defensive. He just watches my face, his blue eyes intense. “I never intended to ruin your party, Artie.”
I count to five in my head, a little trick to keep the emotion from boiling over. “Raiden, you knew the name of my painting. A few hours later, that painting shows up at the common room, right after the fire. You said you didn’t want me to go to the party because of the danger. I believed you, I really did. But justa couple of hours ago, in your bedroom, you were ready to let me go. So… has the danger magically disappeared?” I rush the last part out, needing to make my point before I lose my nerve. “Don’t take this as an attack, Raiden. I was just in your bed. I don’t… I don’t see you in negative light.”
I expect him to get tense, for his jaw to clench and that angry mask to slide into place. Instead, when I finally look up at his face, he’s wearing a soft smile that makes my heart skip a beat.
“Sweet pie,” he murmurs, tracing the line of my jaw with his thumb. “I was ready to let you go because the danger is… partially eliminated. And that’s why the party is canceled. Because Chase Addams has been arrested.”
