Page 41 of White Raven (Nevermore Duet #2)

If anybody had told him months ago that Wren Vintorri would be in his bed…

with cries of pleasure wringing from her throat while her perfect hips rode up and down his cock…

he’d have told them they were absolutely insane.

To even think that she’d ever be crying out his name—that he was the one making her feel this good…

it was unheard of. Four times now, they’d pushed themselves to exhaustion, completely spent and trying to come to terms with the fact that while some small part of them still hated each other, neither one could stop themselves from tearing the other apart.

In every time he could recall sleeping with Sarah…

all the instances when he’d outright told her it was too much or made him uncomfortable…

this fire with Wren was different. That, or some part of him had changed.

A darkness in him that had been sleeping soundly and was suddenly awakened and ready to swallow this redhead whole.

Being with her made him feel like someone else.

Someone that was always there, but never had the key to the chains that held him back.

Wren had let him out—freed him. That part of him was so lost in her that he forgot who he’d been before.

Brent wondered if it was the same for her while he watched her creamy, pale body move over him like she was high on every drop of sweat…

every shattered breath. What started out as fiery passion in that elevator was becoming less profane, and started to reflect the words Wren hadn’t meant to say.

He could see it…feel it. As much as he tried not to think of Sarah while he was buried deep in her best friend, he couldn’t help but realize that never once—not once—had he felt this way with Sarah St. James.

Whatever this was…it was real. Real, and primal, and desperate.

Sweat trickled between her breasts, and he leaned up, taking the back of her neck and winding his arm around her back to relieve her tired legs, and finish her off himself.

Their swollen lips crashed together, and her tight cunt clenched around him as he thrust in and out of her.

It didn’t take her long. He tried not to let it show that his manly pride shone like a beacon when Wren’s loud moan filled his mouth and she collapsed on his shoulder, her warm evidence leaking from her body and forcing him to explode inside her.

He could barely catch his breath. He gripped her damp mess of red hair and laid them back down, breathing heavily against the top of her head.

Wren eased him out, situating herself at his side and resting her cheek in the crook of his shoulder, trying to steady her breathing. “I’m gonna need to use your fancy shower,” she panted, chuckling breathlessly as their legs tangled.

“It’s broken, remember?”

“Then I hope you’re not too privileged to use my middle-class water spigot, Stratford.

” She slapped a palm to his middle, knocking an amused grunt from him as he laughed.

“It’s bad enough you got me to admit my darkest secrets, but I’m not gonna give you the satisfaction of me strutting around in your rich-boy baby gravy. ”

Brent cackled, palming his face. “Jesus, Wren.” They stilled, growing quiet and he couldn’t help but wonder if she was regretting any of it. He tightened his arm around her. “You haven’t been home in a while.”

Wren raised her face to look at him. “What do you mean?”

“I went by a couple times to get coffee and see if you were home. I thought about trying to talk to you…you know, before all this madness with Dr. Ambrose…court.” He shifted so he could look at her. “There’s never any lights on.”

She bit down on her lip. “Did Sarah not tell you?”

“Tell me what?”

Wren adjusted and angled her face to where their noses nearly touched. “Athan…he gave me his apartment. I couldn’t go back to that place. It’s hard enough just trying to piece my life back together, I can’t do it when every time I turn around, all I can think about is—”

“My father.”

She swallowed. “Yeah.”

He had to think on that for a minute. If Wren was living in Kane’s old place…

then that had to mean Kane moved in with Sarah.

Just when he thought he couldn’t feel like more of an asshole.

He never wanted to stay the night in her apartment, let alone move into it.

He’d sooner try to convince Sarah to move into his high-rise penthouse than even consider her feelings.

Thus, the reason, he was sure, for Wren’s dig about her middle-class shower.

While it might have just been light-hearted and playful, she wasn’t wrong in her assumption that he’d likely have rejected the offer if he’d been the person he was six months ago.

He had a lot to atone for. A lot to set right.

He wasn’t his father’s son. He was his mother’s.

It was high time he started behaving like it.

And it would start with this firecracker at his side.

“You were the first person I told,” Brent breathed, dragging his fingertips down her side when she raised her attention back to him.

“Huh?”

“About my mom. You’d been missing. I knew you weren’t at the apartment.

They were already looking for you. When my mom died…

I ended up parked outside the coffee shop, staring at your window.

For whatever reason…I just—I wanted to talk to you .

Not anybody else.” Wren stared at him, mouth parted for a long silent moment.

“I think I realized I loved you then. Even when I knew you hated my guts and wished I were a speed bump.”

“What the hell are you talking about? I still wish that.” Her mouth tugged up in the corner, and he snorted, rolling his eyes.

She had a pink scar right above her eyebrow, and he brushed his fingers over it, knowing exactly what—and who—put it there.

Wren trailed her fingertips down his stomach, stopping on the gunshot wound and laying a palm over it.

“I thought—I thought if the way shit played out in movies were anything like real life, then my rescue from that place would be like that. That fucking S.W.A.T. would storm in and raid the place. Take him down and get me out. I heard your voice and…” Her voice cracked, and she blinked rapidly, swallowing down whatever was trying to surface.

“It was the last thing I expected. And then you stepped in front of that gun.”

His jaw feathered, and that gunshot rang in the back of his mind, Wren’s muffled screaming as he hit the ground.

He ground his teeth hard enough for them to crack.

“It’s over now, Wren. Everything that happened.

The life I used to live. He might have almost killed me, but maybe he unintentionally did me a favor. ”

“How the fuck could you assume that?”

“He killed the Brent I used to be. The one that needed to be put down. The one nobody could love because he was a selfish piece of shit.”

Wren slowly shook her head. “That Brent was dying before that gun went off.”

“You sure?”

She scoffed. “As sure as I’m saying that was the only way my ass could fall for you.”

“You still hate me for it?” he smiled.

“With all my dark little heart,” she grinned, taking his chin as she kissed him and raised herself over him again.

His dick was raw, but rose to the occasion quickly, unwilling to give up any time spent inside that body.

He was about to start that clock a sixth time before his door started buzzing from downstairs.

Wren went still, hovering over him. “What is that?”

“The door.”

“Your good doctor coming back to make sure I haven’t finished you off?” Wren mocked, rolling her eyes.

“If she’s that stupid I’ll let you finish her ,” he snorted.

“Fuck it.” There was absolutely no way he was getting out of this bed.

The way his body tensed and simultaneously turned to slush with every inch that glided into her, pulled the deepest groans from him.

The hottest fucking whimpers from her. Brent flipped her over, laying her on her back and spreading her thighs open to watch himself disappear into her slick core, relishing in the way her teeth dug into the remnants of that burgundy lipstick while she tried to bite back that moan.

The door buzzed again, pissing him off, and causing him to slam his hips into her a bit harder than he intended.

Wren yelped, arching her back and holding her own knees to her chest.

“Do it again,” she growled, sporting a mischievous ass smile.

“Don’t be a pussy.” The persistent asshat on the other side of his front door continued to spam that doorbell, and his skin crawled.

He used that irritation to give her what she wanted, and gripped the underside of her thighs, splitting her open and listening to her scream until they both gave in, cursing when they came and falling like trees next to each other on the bed.

“Dammit, Stratford,” Wren heaved, clutching her chest. “I’m convinced my best friend is a fucking liar. ”

“I don’t wanna know,” he huffed, throwing his forearm over his head. “Ever.” Wren cackled, and the fucking buzzing sounded again. “For the love of God!”

“This should be interesting,” she grinned, pushing him in the shoulder and urging him to go answer it. He reluctantly slid off the edge, grabbing his robe and shrugging it on. “Eww…” Wren scrunched her nose.

“What?” he asked, tying off the belt.

She pointed, and sat up, covering herself with the sheet. “If we’re gonna do this? Then you’re gonna have to spare me the rich-kid shit like that .”

He smirked, dragging a hand through his sweaty hair. “You rather me go down in my birthday suit?”

“Better that suit than the ones you usually sport.”

He shook his head and pointed at her. “Stay. You talk a lot of shit, Vintorri, but that shower ain’t broke. Be nice, and I’ll pretend I don’t see you enjoy it.”