Raven doesn’t put up a fight—and shockingly, neither does Mojo. I drive Raven home in my truck, mostly in silence, and she gives a hefty sigh once we hit the driveway.

“So, what happened? Why isn’t Jessie coming home with us? She bust a hip while grinding over you on the dance floor?” She makes a face as we get out and head into the house.

“Jessie is working until closing. I highly doubt she’ll be up for anything after being on her feet all night. A problem you will never understand,” I say as she follows me into the kitchen, and I pull out a box of cereal.

“Oh, we’re back to that again, are we? How about we drop it and I’ll go easy on you in the snark department?” She puts back the box of cereal before I can get the milk out.

“What are you doing? I’m starving.”

“I’m starved, too.” She picks up her long midnight-colored hair and brushes the ends over my face like a feather duster. “But I’m going to make you a meal. I went to the store yesterday and loaded up on groceries in the event you haven’t noticed. I’m not exactly impressed with the fact you like to house beer and cough medicine in the fridge. One of the two doesn’t belong in there, but I’ll let you guess which one.”

“My mother always kept cough medicine in the fridge.”

“Yeah, and look how your sister turned out.”

We share a laugh on Colby’s behalf. I hop up onto the counter and watch as Raven bolts around the tiny space, opening bags, heating oil in a frying pan, pulling out veggies and rice from a bag. In less than twenty minutes, Raven plates up a Chinese feast for the two of us and we take it to the living room. A rerun of an old football game from earlier today is playing, and Raven says she doesn’t mind. That’s what I’ve always loved about Raven. She’s easy-going. Easy to be with. Be around. Unlike Jessie. What happened tonight on that dance floor felt like an all-out assault.

“This is really good,” I moan my way through another bite. “Such a sad sacrifice, though,” I tease as I pop another pot sticker into my mouth before stabbing one with my fork and holding it between us. “I’d much rather let them develop into overgrown fuzzy teddy bears than pluck them from a panda’s uterus for our enjoyment.”

“Eww!” She socks me hard on the arm, and I choke out a laugh. “You are disgusting. Oh my God, you’re sick. These are not underdeveloped panda fetuses.”

“What?” I knock my shoulder into hers playfully. “Of course, they are. Didn’t you see the picture on the package?”

“Oh, you!” She shoves her near empty plate over to the coffee table. “I’m done. What’s for dessert?”

“You can eat my Snickers.” I take one last bite before abandoning my plate alongside hers. “Or you can always have at my Twinkie.” I scoot in until we’re sitting hip to hip, and I put my arm around her shoulders. It feels natural. Not at all like some cheesy come on.

“You’re disgusting, Brody Wolf.” She drapes an arm over my chest and offers a partial embrace. “Is that what you tell all the girls?”

“You’re not one of those girls.” I tilt my head over hers and take a moment to steal the scent from her hair, lilacs. It’s always the same beautiful scent with Raven, and suddenly it feels as if I’m home.

“So, where did you go this afternoon? Your nose and cheeks are slightly burnt. You go skinny-dipping at the Witch’s Cauldron with members of your coveted harem?” She looks up at me through those long lashes that qualify as a forest. Raven has always had the longest lashes that I’ve ever seen on a girl.

“Nope. It was as far from that as you can imagine. Went up to Lake Avalanche with someone very special to me.” I bite down on my lip, relishing the fact Raven just squirmed.

“If you say you took Bo Peep to find her sheep, I might be moved to sock that aforementioned Twinkie.”

“Whoa.” I push my knees together. “Don’t even joke like that. I was with my grandfather.” I tell Raven all about the recent reunion with my long-lost grandfather and all the fun we’ve had reconnecting.

“Oh my God, Brody.” She sighs with that dreamy look in her eyes as if I’ve just presented her with a puppy. “That’s so incredibly sweet!”

“It is, but we can’t tell Colby. Or my parents.” I wince. I fill her in on the fact he wants to keep it undercover.

“Well, that’s something.” She shakes her head, just as stymied as I am. “It’s too bad he’s missing that precious time with the rest of your family. After my dad died, it became painfully clear we don’t get to live forever. Sometimes I sit in bed at night and cry myself to sleep because I wish I could tell him I loved him one more time—that I could hear him say it back.” She bucks into me as she struggles to hold back tears. “Maybe you could convince him to meet up with the rest of your family?”

“Maybe.” I sweep her hair off her forehead. My heart breaks seeing her in so much pain. “But I doubt I’ll be able to change his mind.”

“Brody”—she presses her lips tight as she comes in closer—“can I ask you a question? And I want a truthful answer. This is the no-bullshit zone.”

The no-bullshit zone is something we used to say growing up when we wanted to squeeze the truth out of one another. And knowing our panache for exaggerating everything, it was a necessity to utilize the zone.

“Shoot.” I give her hip a light pinch.

The air grows still between us as she leans up until we’re just about nose-to-nose. Raven Masterson has the most beautiful crystal cut eyes I have ever seen, and tonight it feels as if I’m falling right into them, falling into her.

“Do you think of me as a little sister?”

And here it is—the moment of truth. Raven wants to know if I see her as another version of Colby, and for the life of me I can’t remember a time when I ever did.

“No,” I pump it out lower than a whisper.

Her face brightens, and her eyes widen as she blinks back tears, a vixen-like grin blooming on her lips.

“Good. Because I think I want to kiss you again.”

Everything in me screams don’t do it. I am playing with fire. Messing around with Raven is tantamount to juggling live grenades. Every action has an equally explosive reaction with her, and as I’ve often learned the hard way, each one of those comes with its own set of consequences. And God knows if I kiss Raven again there will be consequences.

“Come here.” My lids hood low, and I lean in. “I’m going to show you exactly what I think of you.”

My lips crash to hers as my fingers dig into the back of her butter soft hair. I can practically see the lilacs shaking out of it. Raven moans as she straddles me with a knee on either side of me and her mouth lingers over mine, soft and pliable, up for anything, up for staying right where they’re at all night long.

I pry my way into that beautiful mouth of hers and make a home for myself in there, touching, exploring, penetrating her as deep as I can because I cannot get my fill of this girl. Raven lets out a riotous groan right in my mouth, and I swallow it down with a laugh. But I don’t dare break our stride. I keep on keeping on—molding my mouth to hers, our tongues engaging in a dance for what I’m hoping will be the rest of the night. My hands ride up and down her back, bumping over her bra, and now it’s my turn to moan as we indulge deeper into this wild ride that neither of us is willing to get off of. If this were any other girl, I would have gone for second base by now. Hell, I would have scored a homer, too. But this isn’t any other girl. This is Raven. My Raven. The real reason I hung out at the Masterson home. The one I turned down Yale for so I could stay close to home. The one I turned down a sure thing for tonight so I could curl up on the sofa, watch an old game, and do exactly this with. Raven.

I’ve never thought of her like a little sister even when I should have.

Our kisses grow more feverish. Raven is ravenous, and soon these heated kisses won’t be enough for either of us. Where does it end? Where do I draw the line? Hell, I think at this point we both know tonight we’re coloring outside the lines. But Raven says she’s a virgin. I’m pretty sure this isn’t how she should give it up, on my sofa, just for kicks. Nope. Raven needs a forever, a happily ever after. Most likely with someone from Wall Street who can whisk her to Paris for brunch the next morning.

She deserves it.

She deserves far more than someone like me—someone barely keeping his head above financial waters.

Her tongue does a playful revolution of my lips as she pulls back and looks at me with a drugged-up smile. That look right there is what I’ve been seeing in my wet dreams for the last few weeks. It’s nice to know the real deal is ten times sweeter. My God, I love this girl.

My head pushes hard into the sofa as I look up at her, startled like a deer in the headlights. Shit. I do love her. My heart thumps wild as if applauding the fact I’ve finally come to realize this. My God, I’ve loved her all along, and it feels like a relief to admit it to myself.

She falls back over me, and we start all over.

Raven’s kisses are like a fine wine, and I plan on getting drunk off them well until the sun comes up. It’s the sun that always seems to bring the pall of reality along with it.

But in our reality, I’m not the one Raven truly wanted to come home with tonight.

And it makes me wonder.