Dancing with the Devil (Ravens Ruin MC 3)

I take one final look in the mirror, assessing my overall appearance. The smile that spreads across my face isn’t a surprise. Agony and being hurt is what I live for. It’s what gets me out of bed each day, and I just know that TJ is going to be the one to give me everything I need.

Right before he puts an end to all my pain.

Except, when I pull my apartment door open to join him, he’s already gone.Chapter 18TJ

Leaving her apartment last week was the only recourse I could come up with. My plan at the time didn’t include staying away for a week solid, but that’s what it took for me to get my head on straight.

But as I stand in front of her apartment and look up to her single window, I realize a week wasn’t even close to long enough. My thighs burn to run inside and punish her for what she’s doing to me, for what she’s been doing to herself. With determination in my stride, I climb the stairs and unlock her door with the key I made weeks ago.

Soft music hits my ears the second her body comes into view.

She’s dancing.

In the middle of her apartment, she’s swaying her hips to the music, letting her hands roam down her body in soft sensual caresses as Chris Isaak crones about wicked games from her cell phone. I hated this song when my dad played it growing up, but suddenly it’s become my favorite.

Her blonde hair sways unrestrained down her back. With her eyes closed, teeth biting into her plush lower lip, I watch, entranced and mesmerized by her bare legs and the soft swell of her ass as she turns away from me. I want nothing more than to sink my teeth into the delicate flesh.

It isn’t until she faces me again, her sultry, but dilated, green eyes focusing on me, that I fully understand what’s going on. She urges me to step closer, holding both hands out, but my eyes search the room instead.

The rolled-up bill and powder residue on her kitchen counter are all I need to see to comprehend why she’s so playful, and why she’s reaching for me now when she never has before.

A week ago she wanted me gone, wanted nothing to do with me, only saw me as caregiver, and nothing more. She wasn’t thankful or appreciative of the amount of time I spent with her, of the times I saved her from herself, but I can’t pin all my anger on her.

I gave her too much space, too much time to think, and all that shit stops now.

I go to her, watching her mouth fall open on a breathless sigh as I press my body against hers. Her fingers find my hair when I grip her naked hips with punishing hands.

“Hi,” she whispers against my lips.

Alcohol taints her breath, the relaxing agents of whiskey fighting with the coke she has snorted.

“I missed you.”

Her words cut me to my soul. I grip her harder because I know those words would never leave her lips if she weren’t high as a fucking kite. The tiny whimper escaping her throat lands in my balls, drawing them up tight to my body as my cock thickens and pounds against the zipper of my jeans.

“Kaci,” I pant against her lips, needing her and unable to do what really needs to be done.

Never drunk and never high. It’s what I told myself every time I wanted to take her. She has to be aware, has to make that cognizant choice herself. I won’t be like the assholes she seeks out for punishment at the parties. I won’t take advantage. I won’t even touch her delicate skin without her sober and begging for it.

All of it lies.

My mind wars with my body as her hips continue to sway to the music. The brush of her body against mine slowly melts my resolve.

This wasn’t my intent. Wanting to hold her like this, needing to push my dick against her belly were the reasons I stayed away. I’d needed to find control, something I lost the second I stepped inside this room.

She arches against my chest when my tongue snakes out and brushes her lip.

She whimpers, relaxing into my hold for only a second before her body stiffens and her palms, no longer tugging at the hair at my nape, run down and push against my chest.

“No.” A single word without fire behind it at all.

Standing in her own apartment, she’s pulling the same shit she did at the bar, the exact same act I don’t doubt she’s pulled each and every damn time she’s been at one of those parties searching for someone to hurt her.

When I pull her harder against my chest, I wonder how long the other guys took to lose their cool. I want to be better, to last longer, but she’s testing my limits, and the glint in her eyes means she knows it.