“I knew something wasn’t right,” I whisper, more to myself than to him. “Yet I still wasn’t—” My voice cuts off before I can finish the thought, and I press my lips together tightly.
Raven doesn’t pull away. Instead, his hand shifts to my chin, tilting my face up to meet his gaze. “You didn’t fail,” he says firmly. “You survived. Just as I said you would.”
“That was when we were talking about nothing more than a dance.”
Raven hums, a low, deep sound that vibrates through my chest as his thumb grazes my bottom lip. His gaze lingers there, dark and molten, like he’s savoring the memory. “Were we? Regardless of everything that followed, it was more than a dance. It was a challenge. And I can’t seem to resist answering you.”
Heat unfurls beneath my skin, his words igniting a spark that continues to build, leaving no part of me untouched. My breath catches as his thumb shifts, brushing against the corner of my mouth, teasing, drawing my gaze to his.
Raven is a contradiction—a storm wrapped in control, a wildfire hiding in shadow. His touch is soft, reverent even, yet his presence dominates the room, pulling every part of me into his orbit. How does he do that? How does he steal the air from my lungs with nothing more than a look?
I’d thought of him as a distraction earlier, and I think that’s what he’soffering me now. A way to forget. A way to drown myself in something other than the memories of tonight. Yet Raven is so much more than that. It’s clear how effortlessly he can both soothe my thoughts and stir them into chaos. How easily he can entrance me with the simple graze of his thumb against my lip or capture my attention with a single glance.
Perhaps, though, a distraction is what I need right now.
“I think I might need a private viewing,” Raven murmurs, his fingers trailing down my jaw, leaving a wake of heat that drowns out the icy ache in my chest. His eyes hold mine, dark and possessive, as though daring me to speak—daring me to stop this.
I should.
The thought rises like a life raft in a storm, fragile but present. This is wrong. This is selfish. I should ask him to leave, to give me space to stitch myself back together. But then his thumb brushes my collarbone, the rough pad teasing the sensitive skin, and my willpower wavers.
The storm in my chest roars, screaming for solace, for an escape. And as Raven leans closer, his breath warm against my neck, I surrender—not just to him, but to the promise of forgetting. Just for a little while.
All I can do is nod, breathless, entranced by the hunger in his amber eyes and the feel of his teasing hands.
Raven tugs at the cord of my robe, untying it with ease. The fabric parts and falls away, leaving my skin exposed to the cool embrace of the air. He pauses, his gaze lingering on me, and I remain still, every inch of my body igniting under the intensity of his desire.
“On the bed, Starling,” Raven commands softly. His voice doesn’t leave room for hesitation, and I realize I don’t want to deny him—not tonight.
I sink into the plush blankets, my body relaxing, though my pulse pounds with the anticipation thrumming through me. Raven’s gaze follows my every movement, sharp and focused, a hunter watching his prey. He moves with deliberate ease, the controlled prowl of someone who knows exactly what he’s doing.
From his pocket, he pulls lengths of gold silk, shimmering in the soft light. The sight of them pulls something deep inside me, an insistent tug of desire and surrender all at once.
“These caught my eye earlier,” he says, his voice dipping into something darker. “I couldn’t resist saving a few.”
The hint of a smile tugs at my lips, despite the heat pooling in my stomach. “You couldn’t resist shredding my silks?”
He leans over me, his weight pinning me to the bed. His lips hover just above mine as his hand wraps around one of my wrists. “No, princess,” he murmurs. “I couldn’t resist the thought of tying you up with them.”
The rush of heat that floods my body is near dizzying. I don’t resist as he weaves the silk around my wrists, the touch of it impossibly soft but binding all the same. He secures them above my head, his fingers lingering, brushing against the quickening beat of my pulse.
“Trust me?” he asks, amber eyes blazing as they lock on to mine.
My voice falters at first, but then the truth escapes, quiet yet certain. “Yes.”
The moment the word leaves my lips, his kiss takes it away. He claims my mouth with a raw intensity, his tongue teasing mine, lighting my senses on fire. Every nerve in my body hums, every muscle alive under the weight of his hands as he trails them down my sides.
When he pulls back, his breath is uneven, his eyes darkened further. “Patience, princess,” is all he says as he slips the last strip of silk over my eyes. The blindfold steals away the image of his heartbreaking face and plunges me into darkness. Without my sight, I feel him everywhere—a whisper of warmth at my neck, a firmer grip at my hips, the press of his lips along my collarbone.
His warmth and touch vanish, leaving me feeling bereft. A soft, involuntary whimper escapes my lips, met by a deep, husky chuckle. The soft rustle of clothes falling to the floor is my only warning before the bed dips under his weight. Strong, warm palms slide up the length of my legs until his fingers grip my knees and he spreads them apart.
My breath hitches in my throat, my heart pounding in tandem with the throbbing pulse between my legs. I try to clench my thighs together, desperately chasing the pleasure, but with a low growl he grips my knees more firmly and holds them apart.
I’ve never felt so exposed.
So vulnerable.
“I want to taste all of you.” His voice is rough with desire, and the longing buried beneath those words threatens to undo me.
