Page 8 of To Regret a Raven

He always made it a point to let her lead. Drie wasn’t shy about what she wanted, so he would wait. Always waiting. But as soon as she threaded her hands into his hair and yanked, her lips connecting with his…

She cried out when her back landed hard against the cushions, her hips already lifting to assist as he jerked the shorts down her legs. His hands shook as he yanked the condom from his back pocket. “Please, Fisher,” she urged, breathless, reaching out to draw him back to her.

He crawled forward, guiding her hands up above her head as he let his weight fall upon her. His lips melded against hers for a prolonged beat. Tasting her. Teasing her. Pain flared as she bit down on his bottom lip, and he groaned in response, the rush of the sting pulsing straight to the head of his dick.

She smirked up at him, far too pleased with herself. He raised a brow in response, keeping her hands restrained on the pillow as he bowed his head and pressed a chaste kiss to the side of her neck. He dragged his lips down a few inches and let them lingerin the hollow of her collarbone, breathing in the warm scent of her, enjoying the way it spread through him, surrounding him, like he was drawing in the very essence of who she was into his being.

Drie’s legs wrapped around his waist as her hips lifted, but he pulled back, shaking his head.

“More,” she whimpered.

“Nuh-uh,” Fisher answered, shifting his weight to one elbow as he used his free hand to move a wayward strand of hair out of her face. “You’re not the only one who can tease.”

Her expression changed in an instant, her lids falling half-closed as she tilted her chin up, her eyes devious in their scheming as she whispered in that tone that caused goose bumps to break out upon his flesh, “What if I told you about how wet I am?”

He froze, staring down, waiting, hypnotized, as she tilted her head to the side, considering.

“Or how empty I feel right now?”

His breathing grew labored as his eyes bounced between hers, mesmerized.

“How I’ve been daydreaming about your touch all day long, when I was supposed to be taking notes in class. The way I feel with your mouth against my skin.”

His arms trembled beneath him as he fought to hold his position.

“How I ache to feel you deep—oh!” She sighed, wrapping her arms around his shoulders when he pushed forward, taking her fully in one deep stroke.

“Yes, Fisher,” she breathed. “Harder.”

“You’re killing me, Drie,” he answered, barely hanging by a thread as she dug her heels into his hips, pulling with every thrust.

His mouth found hers in a bruising kiss as they moved together beneath the low golden lighting of the lamp in the corner, the hum of their sitcom a forgotten buzz in the background.

“I’m close, Fisher. Right there. Don’t change a fucking—oh—” Drie’s back bowed off the couch as his thrusts grew erratic. Completely out of control, he wrapped her in his arms, pulling her up against him as he found his own release. Then, following her back down into the cushions, he pressed his face right back into the hollow of her neck.

They lay there long after the television fell silent. His mind wanted to panic, to send him running back into that endless spiral of desperation and guilt, but she held him together in the quiet bubble of her warmth—with the scent of her surrounding him, and the touch of her fingertips tracing invisible designs across his back.

He didn’t have to worry. He just had to be.

His mind drifted, bringing forth the last conversation he’d had with Brea the week prior. She’d been furious that he still wouldn’t bring Drie home to meet the family.

“After half a year of dating, it’s way past time,” she’d said.

“She’s just different, Brea. You wouldn’t understand. She’s different from us, our family. She’s gentle. She makes me feel…calm.”

She’d sighed. “This is getting ridiculous, Fish. And I’d bet your little emotional support girlfriend will grow tired of it soon too. No girl is just going to wait around forever.”

His eyes flew open, and instead of a phone clutched in his hand, he woke to the welcome sight of Drie’s hair spread out around the pillow beneath his head. It was a fleeting relief, as the reminder of that call flooded his conscious brain once again.

She had never once brought up meeting his family, just as she’d never suggested he meet hers. Drie had told him plentyabout her sisters and their wild stories, especially the infamous seventeen-year-old crime boss,Nellie. But still, she’d kept that final wall in place, same as him.

Fisher made it a point to let Drie take the lead in their relationship because he knew he didn’t have a right. As long as he remained uncertain about his feelings, if he asked her for something—her touch, her company, herheart—it would just be cruel. But as long asshewas the one to do the asking, the taking, then he could oblige. Because to give her what she wantedwaswhat he wanted.

It was twisted, even in his own mind, but what was the alternative? Walking away? The arm he’d left draped across Drie’s shoulders tightened instinctively in response, drawing her closer.

He just had to keep waiting. Waiting for things to develop as they should. Waiting for the right moment. Waiting to fall in love.

She sighed, her mouth pressing a soft kiss to his shoulder as she settled back into the pillow. He followed, relaxing into the peace of her embrace. He could be patient. For her, he would wait forever.