The idea that it wouldn’t be him burned through his gut like acid, rotting it away.

“Pissed me off, too,” Dalton offered. “I came in after the police were here. Felt helpless, and that’s not an emotion I do well with.” He shook his head, trapped in his own thoughts. “I don’t know what the answer is. All I know is, those women inside care about you, and if you happened to be there, you would’ve given your life for her. I think she knows that already. No need to punish her for our own insecurities. Right?”

Al rubbed his head and shot him a look. “What are you, anyway? A woodworker who moonlights as a shrink? Or a wannabe talk show host?”

“Just a guy who wants to go back in and drink my Raging Bitch in peace, Al.”

The cook laughed and clapped him on the shoulder. “You’re all right.”

“Thanks.”

“I’m glad you didn’t take no for an answer. You two just fit together.”

Uneasiness trickled down his spine, but he ignored it, walking back in with Al. He headed to the bar, took his place on the stool to the far left, and lifted a finger. “Can I have a beer, please?”

She had the bottle in front of him, uncapped and frosty cold, in a matter of seconds. Damn, she was amazing. “How’d it go?”

Al took that moment to pop his head out of the kitchen. “Raven! I need more sweet potatoes, rosemary, bacon, and olive oil. And I want the hickory-smoked bacon this time, none of that fancy crap they try to sell you. Understand?”

She grinned. “Understood, Al.”

“Good.”

He disappeared again, and she practically clapped her hands with happiness. “He’s yelling at me again! You fixed it!”

Dalton laughed. What the hell was he going to do with her? He was certifiably nuts about this woman. “Yeah, I told you, he just needed some space.”

“He’s still smoking, though.”

“Give him time, sweetheart.”

“Okay.”

“Can we go back to your place tonight?”

Her eyes widened. It was a bold proposition, dragging their intense sex sessions from the bar to her house. It meant they were consciously making a choice to sleep with each other, rather than chalking it up to one impulsive encounter. His palms sweat, and his gut lurched with nausea. She could say no. Then he’d try to persuade her, but he wanted her to want him as crazily as he did her. He wanted to stretch her out on the mattress where she slept, strip her, worship her, and make her fall apart. He wanted his head next to hers on the pillow. He wanted to wake up in the morning and drink her godawful coffee and see her with the morning light shining on her skin.

“Okay.”

He tried not to break into a happy, sloppy, joyous grin. “Cool.”

He drank his beer, content.

chapter twenty-one

She was nervous.

The door closed behind her, and Raven wished she had two dogs bounding out to greet her, distracting them both from the outcome of their decision.

To sleep together. In her bed. Deliberately.

She should’ve said no. She should’ve grabbed the opportunity to tell him about their parents and stop this before it got too messy. One time on the bar was impulse. Bringing him to her home was planning.

Instead, her greedy body stole her voice and heartily disagreed. One more night together couldn’t possibly hurt, right?

“Ah, to hear the thoughts in your head right now would be fascinating.”

She stilled, turning around to face him. He leaned against the door, arms crossed in front, that cocky smile on his face that curled her toes and made her breathless. The cut muscles revealed by his tank made her think of two words.

Arm. Porn.

She raised a brow. “Why?”

“Women get tangled up in their thoughts. What they should do or shouldn’t. What are the consequences of an action and how will it play out. Rarely do they just do what they want because it feels really good.”

“You’re a real female connoisseur, huh, Slick?” She knew he’d been with a long line of women, but tonight she didn’t want to think about it. A touch of temper blew through her. She was being stupid. This was nothing but sex, no matter how strong their connection, or that they’d slept together under the stars, or that he looked at her like she was the one who’d save him. God knows she’d been down this road multiple times. Why did she think this was different? “Maybe because if everyone did what felt good without thought, we’d live in a broken, chaotic society. We can’t all live by the call of the id.”

“You’re angry.” His gaze narrowed, assessing. “You think I’m here just to fuck you until you’re out of my system and I can walk away.”

She shrugged, pretending she didn’t care. “Sounds good to me. Maybe we should get on with it and stop the babbling.”

“That’s what I intended, you know.” He acted like he hadn’t heard her last words. “I thought a few naked sessions together would finally calm this crazed need I have for you. I don’t like feeling this way.”

Frustration welled up inside and ran over. “Neither do I. So why are we here? Let’s walk away before this gets more complicated. We want different things. We’re courting disaster.”

“Don’t care.” His eyes blazed with a fierce, glowing heat, like blue flames erupting from a gas stove. He pushed away from the door and stalked toward her, his features set with pure intention. “You’ve crawled under my skin. Torn away every damn barrier I’ve built over the years. Your name sings in my head, your touch is burned in my fingertips, your scent is imprinted in my memory. You are completely tearing me apart, Raven, and there’s nothing I can do about it. So I’m taking you to bed, where we can even the score.”

He reached her, pulled her in, and lowered his mouth to hers.

Oh, yes.

This. This was what she yearned for and craved, the drugging, blistering, aching need to be swallowed whole by this man. His taste swamped her, his tongue thrusting between her lips to drink and ravage, and she wrapped her arms tight around him and kissed him back with everything she had.

He nipped her bottom lip, picked her up, and headed to her bedroom.

Kicking the door open, never breaking the kiss, he laid her down on the sage-green quilt and slowly pulled back. “You like pillows.”