Page 12 of Mercy for Reaper

Armed with my flower vase, I walk to the door leading to the garage, then yank it open and rush in, ready to smash it on an intruder’s head when my eyes lock on familiar hazel ones. That sinfully sexy gaze trails my body in a slow, measured move and settles on the flower vase raised over my head.

“Hi there, angel.”

I’m not sure where to look.

The last thing I expected to see in my garage is a gorgeous, half-naked man dressed in nothing but low-hanging jeans. Reaper is holding a cloth and standing next to a beautiful motorcycle I have never seen in my life.

Has that been here the entire time?

I hardly ever come in here since I stopped driving my aunt’s car, so it’s entirely possible.

“W-what are you doing?” I ask, my heart still beating hard and fast.

“I was cleaning up my bike and checking for any damage. I didn’t exactly have the easiest ride here.”

I have to ask him.

Did you do it? Those men found at the warehouse, was that you? Why did you do it?

I want to open my lips and finally get the answers to the questions that have been eating at me, but earlier, when I’d thought he was gone, I couldn’t help but long for his presence. I missed him immediately, and these questions could drive him away for good.

“I thought you were gone.” It broke my heart.

Reaper drops the cloth on the seat of his bike and approaches me, his eyes heated as he crowds me to the wall. “You think I would just leave without a word after everything you’ve done for me?”

“I . . . I don’t know.”

Reaper pins me to the wall, and my stomach flutters as he steps in front of me, the only thing preventing him from pressing flush against me is the flower vase I am clutching to my chest like a lifeline.

“I am a lot of things, Holly. Most of them are not good, but one thing I can assure you is that I am not rogue,” he says, grabbing my hand and rubbing his thumb over my wrist. “Fate led me to your door, and I have no plans to leave your life now.”

His declaration would have any rational person running in fear. Christ, I can’t be in my right mind to find this romantic, but for the life of me, I can’t deny the flutter in my stomach, so I try to play it off as if his words did not just send my pulse pounding in my ears.

“H-how are you feeling? Your injury,” I say, shifting my eyes from his to the bandage on his arm, but Reaper is not to be ignored as he grabs my chin and tilts it so our gazes are locked on each other.

“I want you to tell me that you understand, angel. That you know I’m here to stay.”

I swallow hard and nod at his words, which seems to be all the permission he needs as he slams his mouth down on mine as if to seal his promise, and I open for him. Unlike the first time we kissed, there is no build-up, no teasing, nothing. When our mouths meet, it’s carnal, almost feral. The deep growl in his throat and the wet glide of our tongues as we lick into each other’s mouths are raw and hungry and . . . real.

This man . . . this moment is real, and I shut everything else out.

“Fuck me, baby,” he growls deeply, breathing harshly against my lips as he grabs the vase from my hands and sets it aside, the movement barely penetrating my lust-fogged brain. The next thing I know, his lips are back on mine, and he is lifting me off the floor and into his arms. I wrap my legs around his hips and lift my hands to his shoulders before it occurs to me.

“Reaper, wait, your injury . . .”

“I’m fine,” he rasps as he carries me out of the garage and into the house. I scarcely notice our surroundings as he carries me down the hall to my bedroom, too lost in his strong, masculine, intoxicating taste. “Need to be inside of you, angel. I’ve been going crazy thinking about this . . .”

Me too, and it’s at the tip of tongue to admit it, but I stop myself in time. I have already given this man more of myself than I have ever shared with anyone, and the thought of baring my heart to him scares the hell out of me, but . . . he makes me want to.

Reaper makes me want to give him all of me, heart, mind, and soul, but how freaking crazy is that?

“. . . Thinking about your sexy little body and these perfect lips,” he continues between kisses, his lips brushing my face and moving down to my throat. His open mouth nudges the shell of my ear, his hot breath fanning my sensitive skin as he speaks. “You have no fucking idea how crazy you make me, Holly. I need to be inside of you, pumping my fat cock into your tight little pussy.”

“Oh, God!” I whimper as he slowly lowers me down to the bed, his mouth going to my neck, kissing, biting, and licking at the sensitive skin until I am writhing needily beneath him. His lips stay on my skin as he starts stripping off my clothes, tearing my top from my shoulders and rushing to strip off my bra. There is little warning before he’s leaning down and sucking my nipple into his mouth.

I cry out as wetness spreads between my legs and a tremble racks my body, need building up rapidly, begging for release.

As though hearing my silent plea, Reaper grabs the waist of my pants and pulls them down along with my panties before tossing them over his shoulder. His lips brush the bridge between my breasts as he lifts slightly to look at me, wetting the seam of his lips as he runs his eyes over my naked body. I fight the urge to hide from being in such a vulnerable position, but having Reaper look at me the way he is—like a predator ready to pounce—settles my nerves a bit.

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