The first thing Raven felt was the warmth of his palm.

Not the usual controlled, calculated grip Jaxon used when he was keeping her in place.

This was different: his fingers laced through hers like he was holding on for dear life.

“Don’t let go of me tonight,” he said low, the words hot against the shell of her ear.

She was half-leaning against the polished marble bar, half-pinned between him and the wall of his presence. The club pulsed with slow, bass-heavy music, the kind ...