That Kind of Guy: Ravenswood Book 3

by Talia Hibbert

  “Right.” She fidgeted beneath the blankets. Wondered what would happen if she did something mortifying while they slept, like hunting down his body heat and curling around him the way she sometimes curled around Duke.

  "Then there’s kissing,” Zach said, all studious and distant. If he’d put on his glasses and started lecturing her on the etymology of the word, she wouldn’t have been surprised. “Did you mind what we did tonight? I mean, is it something we could do again, or would you rather not?”

  He spoke carefully, like each word had sharp edges he needed to keep an eye on. She wondered if he was worried that she’d liked it a little too much.

  She should take kissing off the table, but she was weak, so she said, “We can do it again if necessary.”

  “You sure?”

  “I am.”

  “Then we need to do something about this wall.”

  She faltered, blinking through the darkness. “Uh… what wall?”

  “The imaginary but very sturdy wall you put between us the minute we left the dining hall.” He sounded faintly amused, mildly exasperated, and beneath it all, concerned. “You’re freaking out, right? You don’t need to. It was just—”

  “I know,” she interrupted, because she couldn’t bear to hear him say it out loud. It was just pretend.

  There was a pause. Then, quietly, he asked, “Where are you?”

  “What?”

  His meaning sank in just as his warm, rough hand came to rest tentatively on her shoulder. He skated his fingertips down her arm, caught her wrist, and pulled her hand toward his face. Then, without warning, she felt his teeth sink gently into the meat of her palm. She sucked in a breath and pressed her knees together while the bite tingled its way through her body, heading directly to her nipples. Teasing, tightening, torturing.

  She choked out, “What are you doing?”

  “You’re all stiff like you think I’m gonna bite. So, I bit. Now relax.”

  Was her breathing too fast? Was her heartbeat too loud? Could he tell her clit was already aching, her pulse thrumming hard between her thighs? She wasn’t sure. She squeaked something unintelligible and tried to seem unaffected.

  He laced their hands together and murmured, “See? This is fine. Same as always.”

  Yeah. As always, I want to jump you.

  But there was something new, too: a burning desire to curl up inside him and make all that sweet strength her home.

  “Okay?” he asked.

  “Okay,” she lied.

  He drew her closer. She might as well have been a spare pillow, for all the effort he put into it: just a few gentle pulls and they were a breath apart, his arm around her waist.

  He kissed her knuckles in the dark and spoke with iron in his voice. “Nothing is going to change between us. This weekend will not fuck anything up.”

  How ironic. She’d just been thinking that everything had to change and this weekend would fuck them up.

  “We’re gonna be the way we’ve always been,” he said, like it was an incantation or an order to the universe. “Nothing’s awkward,” he told her. He was telling someone, anyway. “We’re not awkward. Are we?”

  “No,” she said quickly. “No, Zach. We’re perfect.” It was mostly true. He was perfect, anyway. She wished she could tell him so.

  “Then let’s go to sleep.”

  She shouldn’t have been able to obey. But maybe his words really were a spell, and maybe they sank into her skin, because all of a sudden, this situation didn’t feel awkward at all. Lying beside him, touching him, felt… good.

  She lay safe and warm in the cage of his arms, falling asleep to a reassuring thought. This is not what love feels like. It doesn’t hurt nearly enough.

  Chapter 9

  Zach wasn’t surprised to discover that Rae had honest-to-God fans.

  They lined up in front of her decorated table, buzzing with eager excitement, clutching books to be signed and sliding awed looks her way when they thought she wasn’t looking. He watched with a sappy smile on his face as a woman with dangerously pink cheeks squeezed her newly-signed paperback to her chest.

  “I just loved Blood Court so much. Incredible, absolutely incredible. I can’t wait to read the rest of Myra’s story!”

  “Oh, well, thank you,” Rae said, all sweet and flattered. He could tell she was tempted to curl into an embarrassed ball under the onslaught of praise—but she didn’t, because she was way too professional and completely badass.

  “And your hair is so amazing,” the woman beamed. “You look like a princess.”

  “Oh. Um…” Aaaand, Rae was officially broken, or at least rebooting. “Thanks,” she finally croaked, patting her head self-consciously. “Really, thank you.”

  He’d thought that princess thing a few times, himself. She always wore her hair down in the back and braided at the front, strands of grey sparkling at her temples. Zach had his suspicions about why she did it—but he wanted to know for sure. He wanted to know everything about her.

  "Do you think she’s okay?” The voice came from his left, where Rae’s agent, Neil, had been hovering like an anxious genie for the last five minutes. “I feel like I should be around more, but she’s technically done this before—or seen it before—on a much higher level, and I have a lot of clients here today...”

  Zach let the lean, balding man shove out his worried, halting speech, hands wringing and frown deep. The guy was worn out and gentle like your grandpa’s favourite chair, and for someone whose job—as Rae had explained—involved being an author’s negotiator and protector, he sure did hesitate and bite his lip a lot. But then, Zach supposed, tons of people set aside their personal qualities in order to be good at their job. Neil probably managed to seem hardcore when it was time to talk contracts or whatever.

  “She’s fine,” Zach told the older man, partly because it was true and partly because the guy’s darting, rabbity eyes were starting to make even Zach nervous. “She knows exactly what she’s doing. You can focus on the others.”

  “I just like to make sure everyone’s taking rests,” Neil winced.

  “I’ve got it.”

  The older man paused, turning his dark eyes on Zach in a moment of unnerving focus. “Do you know, I’m sure you do.” Then he gave a mournful sigh and was back to his usual self, like that second of intensity had been a hallucination. “Well, alright then. I’ll be off. Perhaps I’ll see you at lunch.”

  “Yeah,” Zach nodded, and Neil hurried away. Then Zach abandoned his post—a chair he’d dragged to the corner by Rae’s stand—and went to see his girlfriend.

  His fake girlfriend.

  She finished saying goodbye to another reader, and he bent down to whisper in her ear. “So, you’re kind of a big deal.”

  She snorted. “No.”

  “Yeah. Drink this.” He put a fresh bottle of water by her poor, curled-up signing hand and kissed her cheek.

  She rolled her eyes at him, then smiled at the next person in the queue. “Sorry. I’ll just be a second.”

  The reader, a kid with waist-length braids and her own copy of Blood Court ready to be signed, nodded happily. Rae uncapped the water and took greedy gulps. Zach tried not to stare too lustfully at the delicate bob of her throat with each swallow; a lot of the influencers at this event were teenagers, and the way he wanted to look at Rae wasn’t particularly PG.

  When she put down the water, he waved a cereal bar at her. “You’ve signed a million books already. Your hand must be killing you.”

  She shrugged, unwrapped the bar, and took a bite. Nodding at the commotion across the vast hall, she said, “I’m nothing compared to the big names.”

  “Good thing I’m not comparing you to anyone. I’m here for you, and so’s this huge queue of readers.”

  She bit her lip on a smile and looked away, pleasure sparkling around her. His body flooded with happiness in response, as if reassuring Rae was his life’s purpose.

  That morning, he’d opened his
eyes to see her face and been hit with a bolt of contentment. Then he’d spent way too long staring at her in the dawn light, trying to convince himself that these feelings were nothing to worry about. Nothing he hadn’t experienced before with every other woman he’d been genuinely attracted to.

  But he didn’t think that was true.

  The emotions surging to life inside him were too intense to face head-on. All he could do was take glimpses from the corner of his eye, and feel their warmth, and know that he didn’t want to dismiss them just because they complicated things. In the end, he’d devised a simple solution: right now, he would be whatever Rae needed. Because she deserved it, and because, for this weekend, she’d asked it of him. The rest, he could deal with later. He’d figure it out, probably when he was back at work next week pounding a lump of metal into art.

  She finished the cereal bar in record time and tapped his nose with the empty wrapper. “Hey, daydreamer.”

  “Says you,” he smiled.

  She smiled back, so suddenly it took his breath away. “Thank you for this. No-one’s ever—” The words cut out abruptly, as if they’d been snatched back. She frowned like her tongue had gone rogue and snapped her mouth shut with an audible click.

  “No-one’s ever what?” he demanded.

  “Nothing.” She turned away from him. “I should get back to work.”

  She meant that last part; he had no doubt. But that didn’t make it any less of an excuse. “Tell me.”

  Her glare made him want to smile because it said she was still with him, irritated but easy rather than stiff and distant. “No.”

  “Tell me, or I’ll tickle it out of you upstairs.”

  “Oh, piss off,” she muttered, the glare sharpening. “I was just—I was just going to say—” The words had jagged edges, as if she physically couldn’t manage them. But in the end, she pushed past it, chin up, eyes dark with determination. “I was just going to say, no-one’s ever really looked after me before.”

  The words, quick and quiet, silenced him utterly. He hated everyone who’d failed her so thoroughly that she was moved by a fucking cereal bar and some water. He was desperate to really look after her, not just for an audience but every damn day, as if he had the right. But most of all, he wanted to touch her. Kissing her would be ideal, except he didn’t feel like he had a valid excuse. There was no reason to fake-boyfriend her right now, not to that level.

  He wanted to do it anyway.

  She shrugged and added airily, “Of course, I suppose that’s what you’re here for.”

  The words sounded wrong coming out of her mouth because five seconds ago she’d been nervous and embarrassed. Zach shot her a hard look. She must realise that this wasn’t part of the performance—that he just cared about her, for Christ’s sake. But her gaze avoided his with impressive determination, so, clearly, she preferred to ignore that particular fact. Perhaps she found tenderness easier to take if it was disguised as something else.

  Alright. He could do that. He could ease her into being looked after.

  Since it was his job, Zach kissed her forehead before straightening. “Go on. I know you’re dying to get back to work.”

  And she was. She flashed him a grateful smile, then turned to the girl with the braids and said, “I’m so sorry.”

  “It’s fine,” the girl chirped, rushing up to the table. “Is that your boyfriend?” She lowered her voice, but Zach still heard her as he walked away. “He’s so handsome.”

  “He is, isn’t he?” Rae murmured, and she almost sounded… dreamy.

  He bit back a smile. At least his face was good for something.

  Convincing Zach to attend an afternoon panel without her wasn’t easy, but in the end, Rae managed it. The discussion of complex magic systems sounded fun, but she knew herself well enough to realise that she was overwhelmed by the busy day so far. She needed to lie down like an old Victorian lady. She also needed a couple of hours away from Zach, because trying to convince everyone that they were together, while subtly showing him she knew they really weren’t, was starting to depress her.

  But when she reached their shadowed, still-messy room, she didn’t feel relieved or relaxed. Instead, she was de-energised, like a flower taken out of the sun. She told herself it was tiredness, and her ever-weary body allowed the white lie. She’d slept wonderfully last night, but she could always—always—use a nap, so she peeled off her clothes and dumped them on the back of a chair. Then she thought, Fuck it, and added her bra to the pile. She’d wake up before the talk finished, and dress before Zach came upstairs.

  She wove the length of her hair into a rough braid, searched through the mountain of pillows for her silk scarf, and came up empty handed. It must be around here somewhere, but she couldn’t be arsed to find it right now. Wearing nothing but her knickers, she stumbled into bed.

  Before her eyes could slide shut, Rae grabbed her phone to set an alarm—and discovered five missed calls from the usual suspect. Anxiety shot her comfortable tiredness out of a cannon. She knew she’d ignored maternal criticism one too many times, lately—and nothing made her mother nastier.

  Her notifications displayed the first few words of a text message.

  Marilyn: I don’t know what…

  Rae could finish that sentence without any prompting. I don’t know what I did to deserve such a cruel and selfish daughter.

  She set her jaw and deleted the text without opening it. Then she re-opened the message she’d received that morning, one that had made her smile all day.

  Hannah: This animal of yours is a big baby. What have you been doing to him?

  It was accompanied by a picture of Duke lolling around on the floor, his tongue flopping like a flag, Zach’s niece and nephew brushing his long, chestnut fur. Rae stared at the image until her heart slowed, her nerves eased, and tiredness crept in again. There. She’d replied to Hannah earlier, so she put her phone away and settled into the bed’s plush embrace.

  Christ, she missed her dog.

  But at least these sheets smelled like Zach. Before they’d left for breakfast that morning, Rae had hung a sign on the door to tell Housekeeping there was no need to clean. She’d thought of it as saving the staff some work, but now she wondered if her subconscious had quietly planned this: sneaking upstairs to curl up in the pure peace that was her fake boyfriend.

  She really wouldn’t put it past herself. It seemed like every time she laid eyes on Zach, she stumbled treacherously closer to the edge of… something. One of these days, she would trip and fall. And then where would she be? Up shit creek, that’s where. Because they were just friends, he didn’t want her, and, while she probably could trust a man again, she saw no reason to bother. It certainly couldn’t end well.

  But that didn’t stop the smell of him from lulling her to sleep, and it didn’t stop her from dreaming of him, either.

  Rae’s skin was warm, kissed by sultry ocean air, shadowed within a cool, marble hotel room. She was on holiday. She was with Zach, tangled up in white sheets. He leaned over her, that lazy smile lighting up his blue eyes. He ran an ice cube over her sweltering skin, and she gasped. He followed the cold, wet trail with his warm, wet tongue and she moaned. He bit her hip the way he’d bitten her hand last night.

  Rae’s eyes flicked open like a doll’s and she stared up at the ceiling, panting, lust shaking through her. She knew exactly what she wanted, and she was close enough to sleep to let herself take it. Her legs splayed open, and her hips rocked as if searching for something. She licked her fingers, shoved a hand into her knickers, and touched herself. Parted her swollen folds with desperate, decisive movements and thought about the way he’d kissed her, the way he’d crushed her to him. Last night in bed, he’d only touched her arm, but she massaged her clit and imagined his hand gliding between her breasts, over her belly, easing beneath her underwear. Imagined watching his knuckles shift through the cotton as he worked her, his murmured praise hot and breathless in her ear. Her pussy tightened, h
er mouth opened on a gasp—

  There was a slow, quiet click as the hotel room’s door opened.

  Shit.

  She yanked her hand out of her pants, squeezed her knees together and bit back a whimper of wild disappointment. Precious seconds from orgasm, but now her heart raced for another reason entirely. Fuck, fuck, fuck. She battled free of the sheets and leapt guiltily from the bed just as Zach rounded the corner and set eyes on her. Only when those eyes widened did Rae remember that she was essentially naked.

  And then, like a terrible cherry plopped on a disaster sundae, black crept in at the edges of her vision. Too fast. She’d stood up too fast.

  Oops.

  Zach watched Rae close her eyes and catch herself against the wall, her splayed fingers brown and vulnerable against the harsh, white paint. He swallowed a curse. He’d researched POTS a while ago and confirmed everything she’d said: it was a circulatory condition that caused dizziness and fainting, one that could be mild enough for a person to ignore. It could also be life-changing. Clearly, Rae dealt with her condition just fine, but his heart skipped a beat every time hers fucked around.

  He moved toward her, but she gritted out, “Don’t. I’ve got it.”

  So he stepped back, calmed down, and finally noticed that she was fucking naked. His mind blanked. Was she—? Was this—?

  That night in the park, she’d made the first move and said she was seducing him, slightly embarrassed but bold as brass all the same. He’d thought that was his one and only chance, the missed opportunity of a lifetime. Maybe he’d been wrong. Maybe the growing charge between them had electrified her too, and she’d decided to try again. The idea took him by the throat, his senses short-circuiting. Just like that, he was made up of precisely two elements: the words, She’s right in front of you, cycling hot and frantic through his mind, and the bittersweet pain of his instantly aching cock.

  He was about to blow at the thought.