Haven could hardly believe she’d uttered the words, and a really big part of her wanted to take them back or tell him to forget she’d said anything. Oh, God, why did I say that? He’s going to think I’m ridiculous. He could have anyone, and probably does. He—
“A list,” he said, his tone odd, intense but also wary.
It was enough to make her lose whatever moment of crazy-reckless bravery she’d managed to call forth. “Never mind,” she said, pulling away and trying to step around him.
He caught her easily, his big, calloused hands grasping her arms.
“Please forget I said anything,” she said, panic rising up inside her and making her want to flee. She twisted out of his grasp and stepped to his side.
“Stop,” Dare said, catching her by the hips and pulling her in tight against him. His arms banded around her front—one around her belly and the other snug against the bottom of her breasts. Her breath caught in her throat, as much from the quickness of his movements as from their position. Clearly, Dare could overpower her if he wanted, but she knew in her heart he wouldn’t. Maybe it was reckless and naïve, but she trusted him. “Haven,” he said, the word caressing her ear.
She shook her head, but she didn’t try to get away.
“Tell me about the list,” he said.
She shivered. Could she really tell him? Going through with this was ridiculous, wasn’t it? She gave a little shrug, and adrenaline and fear made her tremble against him. “It’s . . . it’s probably stupid.”
His arms tightened around her, plastering her back to his front. “What did I tell you about saying that? Stop cutting yourself down. Every time you do, it’s actually your father talking anyway. And hasn’t he said efuckingnough?”
“So much yes,” she whispered. God, Dare could read her, and he always seemed to know exactly what she needed to hear—like how he’d reacted to what happened after the night her father had caught her with Zach. Dare’s anger, his outrage, his desire to get vengeance for her all filled her with such a sense of understanding, acceptance, and more than a little affection, too. “Okay,” she finally said.
“Tell me about the list.” His voice was gruff in her ear, and she couldn’t help but lean her face against his. His skin was so warm, his cheek scratchy from stubble. It was thrilling.
“It’s a to-do list of things I want to experience now that I finally can,” she said. Okay, that wasn’t so hard, and that realization made the words come faster. “I’m so tired of being scared, Dare. And being taken in by the Ravens has let me believe I can actually want things, and have a chance of having them, for the first time ever.”
“Look at me.” He loosened his hold on her so she could turn, and then his arms went right back around her, hauling her up tight against his front. Jaw hard, eyes guarded, brow furrowed, tension rolled off him.
“I guess it sounds pretty silly—”
“Knowing what you want and going after it is fucking brave, Haven.” One beat passed, and another, and he heaved a deep breath. “I know about the list.”
For a moment, Haven couldn’t make sense of the words, and then they crashed over her like a breaking wave. “Oh, God.” Instinctively, she pushed against his chest, needing to escape, to hide, to run. With each second he resisted her efforts, the full ramifications of his admission pounded through her. Embarrassment turned into humiliation that morphed into gut-wrenching mortification. “Your confession.” She gasped the realization. That’s what he’d been trying to tell her?
“Yeah,” he said, letting her go.
She reeled back until her spine hit the wall, and then she slid down into a ball and buried her face in her knees. “I can’t believe . . . oh God.” Right about now would be a great time for the floor to open up and swallow her whole.
“It was the day I found out about the reward. I knew you’d been keeping something from me, and the reward, the reward was pretty fucking big. I came to confront you about it, but you weren’t in your room. And then I remembered seeing you write in that notebook, and I thought maybe it was a diary that would tell me if there was anything else I needed to know,” he said, his voice gravelly, and maybe a little . . . sad?
Haven lifted her face enough to see him standing in the middle of the room, feet spread, arms folded across his chest. Lifting her gaze higher revealed that Dare’s head hung down, his eyes to the floor. He looked almost defeated, and it struck her as so wrong. “Go on,” she said, mind reeling but needing to hear it all.
A single tight nod. “At first, I couldn’t figure out what it was, but then I realized that there was nothing there that could help me. But I was so moved by the things you wanted that I couldn’t make myself stop reading. More than that, I wanted to help you make the list come true. Every fucking thing. I wanted it to be me, Haven. But then, I already knew that new identities were one possibility for you and Cora, and that would mean you’d have to go, so I . . .”
She looked up at his face, her mind and body a confused mix of embarrassed, angry, grudgingly understanding, and, impossibly, even a little intrigued. And then she gasped. “The motorcycle ride.”
“Yeah,” he said, gaze still down.
Slowly, Haven rose to her feet, her back still against the wall because this whole conversation was making the room spin. “The . . . beach?”
Dare finally looked up, and his dark eyes absolutely blazed with need and regret. “I didn’t plan that. And I wasn’t thinking about the list when I put my mouth on you either.”
The blunt mention of what’d happened made Haven’s belly clench. She swallowed, hard.
“I just needed my mouth on you like I needed my next breath. And I loved it—your taste, your come on my tongue, your hand pulling my fucking hair. I shouldn’t have done it knowing I needed to confront you, but I sure as shit couldn’t let anything more happen, which is why I pushed you away.”
His recollection of what they shared, and his raw, honest description of it did strange things to her. Oddly, the worst of her embarrassment cooled. Much of her anger yielded to a feeling of regret about how circumstances had forced both of them to questionable decisions. But most pronounced was how hearing him say these things out loud had her core suddenly aching with arousal and need. “You tried to tell me,” Haven said, the room still a little spinny around her.
“I did,” Dare said. “But I more than anyone know that trying ain’t worth shit. Doing is what counts, and by that score I fucked up pretty much every way I could.”
Hugging herself, Haven forced a long, deep breath, trying to figure out what all of this should mean to her. And then something occurred to her—Dare knew what was on the list. He knew and said he wanted to make it come true for her—make everything come true for her. Which meant . . . the hard part of maybe telling him what she wanted had already happened. And Dare wanted to experience with her all the things she’d dreamt of experiencing with him. “You wanted it to be you?”
His eyes narrowed, and the look he gave her was so hungry it made her wet. “I still want it to be me.”
Haven’s pulse was suddenly a runaway freight train pounding through her veins. She could feel it beating against her skin everywhere—against her breasts, her nipples, the slick place between her legs. She felt like the two of them stood on a cliff’s edge and she didn’t know whether to move or hold absolutely still.
And then Dare made the decision for her.
He was on her in an instant, his hands in her hair, his tongue in her mouth, his body trapping hers hard and insistent against the bathroom wall. Haven moaned at the contact and surrendered to him, her mouth sucking hard on his tongue, her hands pulling his still-wet hair in return, her hips thrusting against his. Willingly. Eagerly. Wantonly.
“Tell me you want this,” he rasped around the edge of the kiss.
“I do,” she said, plowing her hands underneath the damp fabric of his cut.
“Tell me you want me,” he growled, his mouth sucking at her jaw, her ear, her throat.
“Want you, Dare,” she whispered loudly, the sound morphing into a moan when he bit along the tendon sloping down toward her shoulder.
“How?” he asked, his hands going roughly to the hem of her shirt. A million competing answers rushed forth, leaving Haven momentarily unable to answer. He jerked his face back into her line of vision. “How do you want me?”
Breathing hard, Haven spoke the only words she could. “Every way I can have you.” She could barely believe she’d said it, but Dare didn’t give her even a moment to worry about it. He had her shirt off and then her bra, and her nakedness made Haven need his. “Off,” she said as she tugged at the denim vest he wore over a black shirt, her voice almost embarrassingly breathy.
He leaned back enough to remove the cut, which he tossed onto the closed toilet seat, and then he tugged off his shirt for good measure.
Haven’s eyes went wide, because Dare . . . Dare was the sexiest man she’d ever seen in her life. Tattoos covered his chest, his neck, his biceps, his ribs. She didn’t have time to take them in before his tongue was in her mouth again, demanding and intoxicating. His chest hair was ticklish against her hands but was thrilling, too. Masculine and rough. His palms were calloused against her breasts, and the sensation made her gasp and moan and writhe against him, especially as his fingers plucked and twisted at her nipples.
“Oh, God,” she whispered, gasping for a breath. Her brain could barely keep up with her body, and part of her hardly believed this was real. But then Dare reminded her touch by touch. His teeth tugging her bottom lip. His rough callouses dragging against all her sensitive softness. His hard erection grinding so deliciously into her lower belly that she wanted to wrap her legs around his hips and ride him. Hard.
Dare’s hands settled on the button of her shorts. Breathing hard, he rested his forehead heavily against hers, his dark brown eyes piercingly clear. “You want to stop, just say the word.”
She shook her head. “I’m not going to want you to stop.”
“I’m just sayin’—”
Eyes still open, she kissed him. And the look he gave her back was almost ferocious. “Don’t stop,” she said when she released his lips.
And then he was tugging down her shorts and she was stepping out of her shoes and he was pulling down her panties so hard she thought she heard them rip. It was exciting and breath-stealing and made her heart pound so fast she was a little dizzy. Naked against the wall, Haven held on to Dare’s shoulders as he pushed his thigh between her knees and his fingers between her thighs, right where she was wet and hungry and almost desperate to have him.
“Aw, feel that fucking pussy,” he rasped, his face right up against hers. He kissed her hard, his tongue mimicking the act they were barreling toward, his fingers circling and stroking and pushing inside her one at a time. “So ready for me.”
“Yes,” she said, rocking against his hand, faster, harder, searching, needing. She grasped his neck and hauled his mouth to hers. Their teeth knocked, but she didn’t care. She just knew she might die if she didn’t have him touching her everywhere he could and penetrating her every way he could. His tongue filled her mouth and his fingers filled the aching place between her legs, and the hard heel of his hand rubbed against her again and again where she was most sensitive and most desperate and suddenly about to come apart in his arms.
The orgasm was shattering, the most powerful thing she’d ever felt in her life. She nearly screamed into Dare’s mouth and he grasped the side of her face, holding her through it, almost praising her in the gentleness of the touch.
“Fuck, yeah,” he rasped, easing his hand from between her legs. He brought his fingers to his mouth, and, looking her right in the eye, he slowly licked at the wetness on his skin.
Haven’s mouth dropped open as she watched him savor what he’d just brought out of her. Without even thinking, she grasped his wrist and licked the back of his middle finger.
Dare’s eyes flared. “Jesus Christ, Haven, I need in you,” he said, tugging his hand free so he could unbutton his jeans. He shoved the denim and a pair of boxers down over his hips until they were hanging on his thighs, and then his fist circled his erection and stroked it hard, once, twice.
Haven watched hungrily, finding what he was doing incredibly erotic but a little intimidating, too. Dare was much bigger than Zach had been—his whole body and that particular part of him. A man where Zach had been a boy. She wasn’t a virgin, but it had been a long time, and it suddenly made her nervous.
“Tell me what you want,” he said, stepping in close again, the hanging denim heavy against her legs, his moving hand bumping his knuckles and the head of his erection against her belly.
“You,” she whispered. Despite the nerves, she was utterly sure. “I want you.”
He shuddered out a breath. “What am I . . .” He shook his head. “I should slow this down, lay you out, do this right.” He grasped her hand and made to pull her toward the door.
“No,” she said, tugging against his hold. “Here. Now.” Part of her was afraid she’d freak out in the time it took to go wherever he wanted to take her, but a part of her liked the idea of it here. In the bathroom. Standing up. Against the wall.
His eyebrow lifted, and he gave her a slow up-and-down look that set her body on fire.
“Now, Dare,” she said, her voice shaky but her mind made up.
The approval that slid into his expression lit her up inside. He stepped out of his boots and the rest of his clothes until he stood gloriously naked in front of her. Tattoos—some pictures, some words—ran the length of his lean body, along with more than a few scars. His body was rugged, strong, utterly masculine.
He retrieved something from the wallet in the back pocket of his jeans. And then he ripped open the little square wrapper and placed the rubber against his tip. As he rolled it on, he watched her watching him until she thought she might die of anticipation. And the fact that he’d thought of it—when her brain had barreled right past the consideration for protection—proved that she was entrusting this moment to the right man.
God, Dare really was the right man. For her. Except—
“Here?” he rasped, boxing her up against the wall again. The contact chased away her thoughts, especially as he pushed his erection between her legs and rubbed the thick head against her clit.
She nodded and grasped his shoulder. Instinct had her sliding her leg up the outside of his until her thigh hooked on his hip. With one hand, he grasped her leg and helped hold it there, and with the other, he guided his blunt tip deeper between her legs until he was probing her entrance.
“Now?” he asked, his eyes absolutely on fire.
“Now,” she breathed, tilting her hips, aligning her need with his promise.
“It’s been a long fucking time for you, Haven. Don’t let me hurt you,” he said.
The words made her smile. “Just the fact that you said that makes me know you won’t.”
“Jesus.” His hips thrust forward, just a little, but enough to impale her on his tip.
She moaned and arched, her head falling back and her hips angling toward him. Wanting more. Needing all of him.
“Fuck,” Dare bit out, the raw desperation of the curse making her wetter, allowing her to take more of him. And, finally, all of him.
Dare was big, and it had been a long time, and the feeling of fullness and stretching was a little uncomfortable. But it was something more than that, too—it was . . . it was freedom. She was free, free to choose this, to choose him. “Oh, God,” she cried. “Move. Please move.”
A big hand grasped her other thigh and hauled her up the wall, until Dare was all that held her up—his hands under her legs, his hips against hers, his cock deep inside her. A long withdraw and a slow, deep thrust had them both moaning.
Haven wrapped her arms around Dare’s neck and held on as his strokes picked up pace, his hips withdrawing and returning faster, his breaths coming harder, a stream of groans and curses spilling out of that harsh, beautiful mouth.
“Christ, Haven,” he ground out. He kissed her deeply—her mouth, her lips, her neck, and back to her mouth again. As he moved faster, they couldn’t hold the kiss. Instead, he leaned his forehead against hers and their hair made a curtain around their faces, his dark brown, hers lighter. And it made her feel like they were together against the world and no one could hurt her ever again.
“Don’t stop,” she said. “Don’t stop. Never stop.”
Dare pulled her off the wall and carried her to the vanity. “Not a chance,” he said, sitting her down on the granite between the double sinks.
Haven braced her hands behind her, her head reclining back against the mirror.
“Not a fucking chance,” he said, leaning in to kiss her.
The new angle had his pubic bone grinding against her clit again and again. She gasped into the kiss.
He pulled his lips away from hers and stared down to where his body penetrated hers. “Look how good we look,” he rasped, watching her watch him disappearing inside her. Again and again.
Heat filled Haven’s cheeks even as she was absolutely fascinated by his movements, her slickness on his length, the wet sounds they made together. “It’s really . . . freaking . . . hot,” she said.
One side of his mouth quirked up into a wicked grin. “It’s really fucking hot.” He arched a brow, as if challenging her.
She looked down again just as he sank deep and his sack rocked against her butt cheeks.
He planted his hand against her lower belly and stroked his thumb over her clit. Fast and firm. “Say it. Tell me how hot it is.”
Haven’s mouth dropped open on a moan. “It’s really fucking hot,” she whispered, her gaze flashing back to his.
“That’s right,” he growled, leaning in again to claim her mouth. His thumb continued to strum at her clit until she felt entirely overwhelmed by him—his mouth stealing her breath, his body pressing her down, his cock deep inside her. “You coming all over my cock would be even hotter,” he said, nailing her with a stare.
Those words out of that mouth was like someone had taken a blowtorch to her skin. She flashed hot and felt herself get wetter, her heart ready to explode from her chest. His hips moved faster, his thrusts deeper, more pointed, rocking her whole body. All the while his thumb stroked her. And then he grabbed her ass in his hands, leaned over her, and lifted her up into his strokes so that his pubic bone ground into her clit on every mind-blowing thrust.
“Come on me, Haven,” he rasped against her mouth. “Fucking come on me.”
It was the hottest, wildest, headiest thing anyone had ever said to her. Sensation wound up inside her tighter and tighter until she was holding her breath and reaching and finally, finally coming all over him, her body fisting around his again and again. Her cry sounded tortured to her own ears, but then Dare was shouting and straining against her and holding her so tight it almost hurt. But it was the best thing she’d ever felt in her whole life.
Everything she’d never even known she wanted. Something she already knew she would never be able to live without.
“Beautiful, everything about you,” he whispered roughly against her cheek. Dark eyes flashed at her when he pulled away. “Stay right there.” He eased out of her and discarded the condom in the trash can, then he stepped to the big glass shower and reached inside to turn on the water.
Haven missed his heat immediately but found herself absolutely fascinated by the huge tattoo covering most of his back—the same raven perched on a knife sticking out of a skull’s eye socket that appeared on all of the Ravens’ logos. An arch of capital letters sat above the image—RAVEN RIDERS. The ink covered a large scar that ran all down the right side of his back.
He turned to her and helped her down from the counter. “You doin’ okay?” He pressed his lips against her temple.
“Better than okay,” she said, oddly self-conscious given what they’d just done as he walked her to the shower. She gave him a shy smile, loving the tenderness softening the harsh angles of his face, but not sure whether she was reading too much into it. “Way better.”
“Want to take care of you,” he said. “Come on.”