Shadows (Black Raven Book 1) by Barcelona Stella

Author:Barcelona, Stella [Barcelona, Stella]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2015-04-07T07:00:00+00:00

Chapter Fifteen

Strobe lights and beeps emanated from his watchband, which Sebastian had left on the bedside table. 7:15 a.m., wake up. Unless there was a crisis. Shaking off deep, dreamless sleep, the strobe’s flash confirmed what he instantly knew. The bed beside him was empty. On her way out, Skye must have turned off the lamps. The room was pitch dark. He had no idea when she’d slipped from his arms and left the room. He’d fallen into a headache-med induced, fatigue-driven, post-coital hard sleep, as she had snuggled into his chest, given him her gorgeous smile, and whispered her approval. The intervals between the alarms would grow shorter, if he didn’t respond to Ragno’s good morning call, but for now he had a two-minute pause. He needed it.

He’d broken any number of rules by having sex with Skye—Black Raven rules as well as overarching, self-imposed ethical rules. Pushing Skye to the breaking point had been his intent, and that’s why his comments in the kitchen had been unrelenting, but when she’d finally broken down, instead of trying to get information from her, he’d done something different.

Yet another fuck-up on his part.

As he inhaled a deep breath of exasperation, the aroma of almonds and vanilla distracted him. Someone was baking, but that wasn’t unusual. When he was on Black Raven premises, agents cooked for him. What was unusual was that it smelled so good. He savored the aroma, shut his eyes, realized it was the same scent that had greeted him at Creative Confections, and groaned. He chose not to chastise himself—at least for a few minutes—for losing rational thought and acting on lust.

Best sex ever?

Glad she thought so. When he had time to think, without Ragno’s alarm distracting him, maybe he’d remember another woman who he enjoyed being with as much. Right now, none in his memory bank compared. Demanding, yet complaint. Sarcastic, even in bed.

Don’t you know what foreplay’s for?

He chuckled. Off-the-charts responsive. Eyes-open as she watched him, beautiful when she came, arching into him even when he did her from behind. The memory of her body moving with him, her legs winding around him, the sound of her moans and her soft cries, faded when he remembered what she said while they were in the kitchen. He’d barely thought about it. Instead of listening to the words, he had focused only on two facts. One, she was offering sex. Two, he needed it.

Once with me won’t count.

His good-morning-wanting-more erection had him wondering how many more times with Skye wouldn’t count. Yet a part of his brain—the part that had somehow awakened after the hand-grenade slammed him into coma-land in July—made him wonder why. He’d never come face-to-face with a female version of himself, a female who thought of sex as nothing but release. Women either craved emotional attachment or they expected compensation. He’d learned that cash was easier to give, yet even frequent visits to the same high-priced woman could result in emotion-driven expectations on her part.

Why?

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