Page 37 of The Collector

She turned, pulled one earbud loose, and met his gaze. The silence between them hit harder than the beat ever could. "Sorry, what did you say? I couldn't hear you over my music."

"I asked what you're doing up so late?" Raven's voice remained steady despite the strain of his workout. His hands gripped the bar of the weight machine, pulling the bar down to his waist in a slow, deliberate motion. Sweat traced rivulets down his chest, gathering at the waistband of his pants.

Fucking delicious, I’m so jealous of those sweatpants, getting to hold him, feel him.

She found herself unable to look away. The sharp definition of Raven's torso, the way his muscles flexed with each movement, and the taper of his waist forming that unmistakable V shape held her attention captive.

"Mynx?" he said, his deep voice laced with amusement. "Earth to Mynx… you alive in there?" The sound of his rich laugh pulled her back to reality, back to the sharp contours of his face.Where my eyes should have been all along, she chastised herself.

"What? Oh—I'm sorry, I was thinking," she replied, but the heat flushing in her cheeks showed her embarrassment at being caught staring. She could feel them blazing.

"Nothing to be sorry for." The deep groan he made as he released the weight. Curled her toes. Made her nipples stand at attention. "Are you going to answer my question?" His chocolate-brown eyes smoldered—not just with curiosity but with something more profound that sent a primal pulse through her, constricting her at her core. The thought of having him right here, right now, stirred something electric and undeniable beneath her skin. Goosebumps prickled along her arms. She clenched her thighs together.Fuuck.

Raven glanced down at her legs, as if he'd seen the slight movement.

Mynx had to do something. Speak so he would stop watching her every embarrassing movement.

"I've always been a night owl," she admitted, her voice soft in an attempt to mask her longing. "The stars, the moon, the way the world seems to exhale and slow—it's the only time I feel like I can breathe."

She closed her eyes briefly, blocking out the fluorescent gym lights and the surrounding walls as if she could reach for the vast night beyond. Trying to ground herself. Take away the burning need she felt for him. His voice brought her back to reality.

“Do you feel it too?” he asked, voice low and rough with restraint. “That pull between us—it drives me mad. I need you.”

Her breath hitched as his fingers brushed lightly against her waist, just a whisper of contact, barely there but potent enough to send a shiver cascading through her body.

Mynx couldn't speak, didn't dare let him know how much she did. She nodded, and he leaned closer to her.

"You should walk away," he murmured, lips so close that she could feel the ghost of his words against her ear. "Tell me to stop. Because I am so close to worshiping every inch of that delicious skin of yours, so close to fucking you senseless."

But she didn't, didn't move as she fought the urge to kiss him.

If she spoke, she would have to lie. She couldn't tell Raven she wanted him just as badly as he wanted her.

The moment she thought she had her desire under control—thought she could look him in the eye and speak without trembling—his lips found the curve of her neck. Slowly, intentionally, his tongue traced a line of fire along her skin, and her illusion of control shattered.

Her core liquefied, molten and aching. The soft whimpers that escaped her lips weren’t weakness—they were betrayal. They gave voice to the storm surging beneath her skin, the need clawing its way up from somewhere primal.

She tried to speak. She needed to talk. But the words tangled, caught in the heat and the haze and the weight of Raven's body pressed against hers. Her thoughts blurred, reduced to sensation: the press of his mouth, the rhythm of his breath, the way her own pulse stuttered in response.

"Words—Butterfly— I need to hear them— need you to tell me you want me, beg me to take you. Or this stops now." His voice vibrated down her body, sent shivers down her spine.

Raven was the devil, and she’d been born to embody the sin he was about to carve into her skin. Her resolve crumbled, piece by trembling piece, until all that remained was hunger—and the aching need to kneel and worship at the altar of what he promised.

His fingers now trailed down her stomach in slow agonizing swirls as he waited for her to speak.

"I want you, Raven," she said, her breath coming in short, trembling gasps, "I need this, please." It was all she could manage. She prayed it was enough. It was only a heartbeat, but time seemed to stand still as she waited in suspense, afraid her words might not be enough. Before his lips crashed into hers, hungry, forcefully, claiming her mouth with an intensity that possessed her very soul. The world disappeared, and nothing mattered to her except the desperate, consuming fire Raven was unleashing on her body.

His hands were everywhere, all at once, touching, caressing, leaving flames in their wake. He took Mynx's nipple in his mouth, tugging lightly on it; the slight pain caused her to arch away from him, but he pulled her back to him with the smooth strokes of his tongue before taking the other in his hand. She reached for him, taking his thick shaft in hand, stroking, worshiping. His moan vibrated against her nipple as he picked her up and placed her on the counter in a swift motion, spreading her legs as he did.

Before she knew it, he was on his knees, tracing the lips of her entrance with his tongue. Each lap full of intention and warmth.

Here she was thinking of worshiping at his altar, and he was— worshiping her.

She purred with enjoyment.

“You’re so fucking beautiful, and you taste like heaven drenched in vanilla,” Raven growled against her clit; voice soaked in heat.

Mynx gasped, hips grinding into his mouth, chasing friction like oxygen. Her body was pleading, but her voice was still caged.