Doubtful Dreaming: A Reverse Harem Paranormal Romance (The Raven Book 2) by Elle Lincoln

Author:Elle Lincoln [Lincoln, Elle]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2019-05-28T05:00:00+00:00

Chapter 13

Bette

A New Day, A New Battle

Sleep melts from my consciousness on a slow glide. The ebb and flow is like a gentle rocker that lulls me in, and then out. My body, well rested, wakes with light ease. My breath deepens and syncs with the body lying beside mine. I snuggle in closer as memories of last night taunt and tease my waking mind, waking my body further.

My eyes flutter open to smooth muscle and small hairs that tickle my nose. If this is how I wake up every morning, I’ll be one happy girl. I reach across Balor, hugging him closer as though he may get up and wander away from me. Movement is inevitable, but this feeling can stay for just a little bit longer. This closeness I crave.

“You’re awake.” The low timbre of his voice reverberates through me, and I move my head off his chest to look up at him. His icy eye gazes at me with contentment that I not only see, but feel.

“I am.” I lean up, my breasts rubbing across his chest, teasing my nipples. Moaning, I brush my lips across his, ignoring the harsh scent of morning breath.

His hands grip my hips, and move me with little effort up his body where I straddle his growing erection. As I deepen the kiss, a knock on the door has me groaning in frustration.

“No more! We cannot take anymore!” Patrick’s loud voice rattles my bones with his annoyance.

“What the hell is that about?”

Balor chuckles, the sound making him irresistible. I lean in once more but he turns away to lift me up, and settles my naked ass on my bed. Kneeling between my legs, his gaze trails down to the junction of my thighs.

“No.” He shakes his head and snaps my legs shut, growling at me. “We have a small problem, temptress. Shower. Dress. Then meet us downstairs.” He places a chaste kiss across my lips, grabs his kilt, and flees like I’m some kind of poisonous snake.

Well, okay. Not how I thought the morning after would go, but I refuse to feel shame of any kind. Instead, I get up and rifle through my old clothes, looking for something other than what the guys have snagged for me here and there.

And underwear. Oh, blessed underwear, how I have missed you so. Lace and silk and cotton, oh my! I grab a matching black lace set—hoping it will fit me—jeans and a tee, and I grab a quick shower.

I want to linger under the hot spray that eases my muscles and chases away the darkness invading my thoughts, but worry nags my belly over what has happened, and anxiety burns my throat. I spend just a little bit of extra time removing the insane knots in my hair. Conditioner is a thing of beauty and I’m so glad Grandma kept this room stocked. Or not, I think this is the same conditioner I had from high school.

I shake away any thoughts of old conditioner and soap, just thankful to be clean.

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