To Catch a Raven (Women Who Dare, #3)

by Beverly Jenkins

They want you and the daughter Raven to pose as man and wife and find it.”

I admired her, respected her, and never brought her shame. But I never loved her. Not the way I loved you.” That went straight to her heart, too. “Let’s get started on the portrait,” she urged softly. He nodded.

“People won’t know where you stand if you take the long way around. I prefer to get to the heart of the matter. It saves time and there’s less confusion.”

As he did the same, he said, “The women back home rarely speak so boldly.” “That’s unfortunate. Their mothers should raise them better. Bland food. Meek women. Sounds fairly boring where you’re from, Steele. Hopefully, the men are good in bed, at least.” “Find us a bed and I’ll give you dessert.” Her heart stopped. Eyes blazing intensely, he added, “I can’t speak for other men, but you’ll remember my pleasuring you for the rest of your life.” And as she stared agape, he pushed back his chair and rose smoothly to his feet. “Thank you for dinner, Miss Moreau. I’ll await your invitation for dessert.” Gathering his dishes, he walked away, reentered the house, and left her sitting there, stunned and with lust pulsing between her thighs. Dear Lord!

“That’s unfortunate. Their mothers should raise them better. Bland food. Meek women. Sounds fairly boring where you’re from, Steele. Hopefully, the men are good in bed, at least.” “Find us a bed and I’ll give you dessert.” Her heart stopped. Eyes blazing intensely, he added, “I can’t speak for other men, but you’ll remember my pleasuring you for the rest of your life.”

regrettable yet necessary decision. The operative, Zahra Layette, had married into one of New Orleans’ most influential families of color, the LeVeqs. Were they to learn the woman they’d known then as Wilma

“We really must do something about that sassy mouth of yours.” “You think so?” “Yes.” She admittedly enjoyed challenging him. “Many have tried. Few have succeeded.” “They’ve obviously been going about it in the wrong way.” “And you’d correct that how?” “By spending a few quiet moments kissing you until that mouth is soft and kiss-swollen. Maybe bite that bottom lip gently enough for you to moan for more.” Raven swallowed with a suddenly dry throat. “Has anyone tried that?” She cleared her throat so she could respond. “No.” The sensual moment spread through her blood like warmed cognac. Shaken, she forced her attention back to the sink. “Let’s finish up these dishes.”

He stilled and took her in, in a way that made her so aware of him it was difficult to keep her breath even. Eyes smoldering, he said quietly, “Maybe I’ll make it for you to wear during dessert.”

“I’m enjoying your company,” he told her. “We aren’t clashing.” “The day isn’t over.” He chuckled. “There’s that mouth again.” “The mouth you wish to tame.” “Very much so.”

She ignored the inner voice. “A challenge.” He reached out and ran a slow finger over her bottom lip, and the intensity that flowed from it made her eyes slide closed. “Are you sure?” “Yes.”

He murmured, “I’ve been wanting to taste you since dinner yesterday.” And taste her he did; tentatively at first, lulling her, inviting her mouth to open with gentle licks of his fire-tipped tongue. And when he bit her bottom lip softly, she moaned just as he’d predicted. She knew she should’ve listened to her inner voice’s warning. Now it was too late. Her body drank in the alluring sensations like a drought welcoming rain.

He looked down at her with blazing eyes. “Would you like to hear what I’d do to you were we in my bedroom at home?” His voice was mesmerizing and so seductive she could only reply, “Yes?”

“Once this mouth is ripe enough for my liking, and yours, like now, I’d ask you to slowly undo the buttons on your blouse because nothing arouses me more than a woman willingly undressing, and if you agreed, I’d move my kisses down your throat.”

“I’d ask you to lower your shift and offer me first one breast to pleasure until your nipple is hard as a jewel, then the other.” Raven wondered how long she could live without breathing. This man was far more dangerous than she ever could have imagined. “Then I’d ask if you wanted more . . . and if you said, yes, I’d have you raise your skirts and touch yourself to let me know how wet you are. Are you wet, little corvus?”

The torrid power of him fueled a sweet ache of longing between her thighs. “Yes,” she whispered to herself, brain turned to mush. “Good.” Only then did she realize she’d replied aloud. Her eyes popped open in shock. He simply smiled.