Liam Davis & The Raven (23 page)

Chapter 18

Drenched from
rain, I let myself into apartment twenty-three, flicked on the light, and shucked off my jacket and shoes. With cold, stiff limbs, I dropped onto the couch, my bag wedged uncomfortably behind my back.

With a groan, I stripped
out of my wet clothes and padded to the bathroom to dry my hair. The warm air didn’t help me forget the email I’d sent my father.

My
Happy Thanksgiving
message had come back with an auto-reply.

Thank you for your message. I am currently out of the office over the Thanksgiving weekend. I will be returning on Monday
, the first of December. If you need urgent assistance, contact me at . . .

I switched off the
blow dryer. Maybe I could try contacting him, though the matter could hardly be qualified as “urgent.”

Back
in my living room, I pulled out my notebook and moved back to the couch.
Dating the Differently-Abled.
I jotted down some of the observations I made about Hunter and Mitch, and I expanded on the questions and answers I already had.

“Definitely need more interviews,” I said, and my voice bounced off the arched windows and back to me.

I stopped note-taking to draw the curtains. Leaning against the window frame, I stared out into the night. Lamplight peppered the length of the street, and car tires
chuuurred
over the wet road. Quinn should have arrived in Louisville by now.

A step back, and the reflection of me alone in the room winked back at me. The apartment seemed bigger, colder without him.
My stomach rumbled, empty—
hungry
.

I popped a slice of bread into the new toaster Quinn bought.
I ought to write a report on the blessings of an attentive roommate . . . friend.
Boyfriend?

A small shock shot up my middle, and
I prepared the toast with shaky hands.

Sitting at the end of the table, I ate slowly
while reading the current
Scribe
. I scanned the opinions page and Jack’s report on the reopening of the 32
nd
floor of the Cathedral of Learning, which ended with a mention of the black-tie event that Mitch had invited Hunter to. Sounded like my type of party. But that Friday wasn’t going to work for me, unless I got my feature article to the chief before that. Considering all the interviews I would have to schedule this week, I didn’t think the black-tie event would be a possibility.

I shut the magazine and pushed it to the middle of the table. Its
churr
echoed loudly. Staring at the other end of the table at what had become Quinn’s chair, I revisited my reasons for staying home.

I came to the
painful conclusion that I’d made the wrong choice.

I woke up to the smell of the neighbors
making
pancakes
, of all things. On Thanksgiving Day, I thought most families would skimp on a large breakfast in favor of the turkey extravaganza later.

I rolled out of bed and
took a quick shower. I slipped into a maroon robe, and when I stepped out of the bathroom, the thick scent of pancake goodness tickled my nose.

And then came the distinct sound of shuffling.

I froze for a second before striding to the kitchen—

“Gah!”
It wasn’t my imagination. He was here, making pancakes. Quinn.

He twisted from the pan,
wielding a spatula in his right hand, a sheepish grin twitching his lips. “Morning.”

The window
was hitched open a crack, and I drew my robe tighter at the draught of winter-spiced air. “What are you doing here?”

He focused on the pancake, taking a moment to flip it. Then he pointed the spatula at me as if it explained everything. He added,
“You kissed me in the café. In front of everyone.”

I followed the rise and fall of the spatula.
“I did.”

Quinn fished the pancake out of the pan and set it
atop the others. “I liked it.”

He looked
sincerely at me, like he could see through me, somewhere deep that I only occasionally visited. I hooked my thumbs around the robe belt to tighten it.

He poured t
he last of the batter into the pan and set his spatula on the bench. He lessened the distance between us. Closer. Closer. Closer.

“A
lot
, Liam.”

He took my hand and drew me
into the kitchen until he was pressed against the bench and I stood between his opened legs. His jeans were coarse against my skin, prickling against my hairs.

“
I couldn’t stop thinking about it the entire drive home.”

He
brushed a kiss over my bottom lip and pulled back to stare, mesmerized, as if my lip could sparkle. I curled my lip in, tasting the warm spot.

“You crossed my mind a fair bit too,” I said. “The place feels so much more comfortable with you in it.”

The next kiss came to the top of my head, matting short hairs to my forehead. “It’s so hard for me not to ask you again.”

I stilled a moment. He meant
us
, our relationship—being more than friends. More than just having sex. A relationship meant the development of an emotional connection. I teetered on answering him immediately, but reined in the urge. I needed to be one hundred percent sure, and that meant thinking through the repercussions should things turn out horribly in the end.

What would it mean for our friendship? Would this beautiful thing vaporize before my eyes, leaving me
alone, grappling at thin wisps in the air?

And then there was Hunter. Quinn and he had been friends forever. Hunter’s allegiance would, and rightly so, be with Quinn.

I’d be back to Liam Davis, reporter for
Scribe
, with no friends outside of the magazine.

I remembered going to
the Nightmare on Shady Avenue party, wanting to prove there were worse nightmares out there than mine. Instead I’d proven a dream had been missing. Now that I knew it, I didn’t want to mess it up.
Friendship
was the relationship most lacking in my life.

“Would you still live with me if I decided
that I’d prefer us to stay friends?”

His body tensed, his hands clutching tighter
around my upper arms. He took his time, swallowing before he answered softly, “I want to have you around.” He rubbed my arms. “Is that your answer?”

“I’m not sure yet. I l
ike having sex with you.”

A laugh tumbled out of him and he
turned me, pressing me tight against the bench, his arousal nudging at my lower stomach. He reached around my side, took the spatula and flipped the last pancake. It was a good example of multi-tasking, even if the pancake was close to burned.

“So
, you came back,” I murmured, pressing a hand to his chest and playing with the peak of one nipple bumping his T-shirt.

“
I said hello to my family and then found myself saying goodbye, hopping in my car, and driving back here.”

“They’ll be missing you then.”

He turned off the stove, slipped the last pancake on
to the plate behind me, and kissed my lips. A soft kiss that felt delightfully unfinished.

He ripped up a pancake and
fed me bits, pushing the pad of his syrupy thumb into my mouth and scraping over my teeth.

“I
hope this leads to a ravaging of sorts,” I said after the next bite, rubbing the heel of my hand against my length.

Quinn’s pupils dilated
. His arms came quickly and firmly around me, fingers digging into my ass as he urged me to wrap my legs around him. He walked me purposefully toward his bedroom. “Is it okay to break the wall if you’re the one helping me do it?”

“Yes.”

His laugh tickled at my throat.

“
I can’t think straight when you do that.”

Quinn paused in his doorway, arms flexing with the weight of carrying me. I squirmed to my feet, relieving him of the pressure.

“Was that a joke?” he asked as he brushed a thumb over my nose to the edge of my mouth. “Did Liam Davis just crack a joke? The end of the world must be coming.”

My
robe had come loose and I shrugged out of it, letting the soft material sink to a puddle at my feet. I stroked myself. “Not the coming I want to concentrate on right now.”

His voice tensed, and his lust was undeniable.
“Another one. Shoot.”

“Really?
” I said, linking our hands and pulling him toward the bed. I kissed him quickly and flung myself over his semi-made bed. “Because I could, you know.”

He pounced on me, pinning my arms above my head
. The bottom edge of his T-shirt fell softly against my shaft as he leaned in and bumped our noses together. “Going to tell me exactly what you want, Liam?”

“You naked for a start.”

He scrambled off me, and I hooked my fingers behind my head as he shucked out of his jeans and almost fell, stomping on the ends to free himself of their hungry grip. The T-shirt came off in record time, followed by his socks.

He paused at his boxer-briefs, stretching the waistband with a teasing wink.

“You can keep them on if you want,” I said, sitting up and shuffling to the bedside, where I pulled Quinn forward. His legs flexed as I dug my hand in the flap of his boxers, gripped his cock and pulled it out. I leaned forward and tasted him. Salty. His velvety foreskin rubbed against my lips.

His moan came long and surprised. “Liam,”
he gasped. There was something infinitely motivating about that sound, and I fed more of him into my mouth until the head of his cock was nudging the far roof. The angle was somewhat awkward, so I slid off the bed to the floor.

Quinn curled his toes against the side
s of my knees as I stroked and sucked him. He let me lick and explore while he gifted me with little noises of appreciation. He pulled out of my mouth, stripped off his briefs and tugged me up onto the bed.

The bedding cushioned my back as Quinn climbed on top of me and locked me into a deep kiss. I arched against him as our tongues danced and Quinn’s fingers
slid between our hips and rolled my balls. My grip, splayed over his shoulder blades, tightened as I eagerly drew him closer.
More. More of that.
I angled my hips and Quinn sought deeper until he was rubbing along my entrance. “Yes, that’s it. That’s what I want.”

Quinn rutted agai
nst me as he wriggled the tip of his finger and popped it into my ass.

“More, Quinn.
Turn me over and put your cock in there.”

Quinn
groaned and drew back onto his haunches, reaching to his side drawers and pulling out lube and a condom. “Are you sure, Liam? I mean, I really want to, but I don’t have to. There are a thousand other ways we can get off.”