Page 13 of The Reaper

Christ, even hugging Blakely had been torture. Touching anyone caused this horrible nausea to roll through me … no, noteveryone. Touching Fallon didn’t elicit the same response, and perhaps that was the biggest and best reason of all not to inspect that too hard.

So, yeah, I watched her while she slept and tried to tell myself again all the reasons why thinking about her sexually was a bad idea—the biggest being that she was Grayson’s sister. But no matter how many times I told myself that, my dick conjured up thoughts of her on her knees again, only this time she was compliant and waiting for my command.

“Fuuuck.” I drew the word out, running a hand through my hair. This was so fucking messed up. Fallon sighed softly in her sleep, rolling from her back to her side so she was facing me. There was a large part of me that wanted to crawl in between those sheets and wrap my arms around her, but there was an even bigger part of me that refused to let another woman get their hands on me. The only reason Blakely was allowed a hug was because I knew her before that fucked-up bitch had torn my innocence apart. Even though I knew she was safe to me, I still didn’t enjoy the feel of someone else’s skin on mine unless it was my hands wrapped around the throat of an enemy.

I wanted to touch Fallon though. I wanted to see how long it would take me to make her pant, then scream my name in pleasure. I didn’t think she was the submissive kind, no matter how much I wanted her to be.

As if my thoughts woke her, Fallon’s eyes fluttered open. She seemed to lay there a moment before her reality snapped violently back into place. Tilting her head back, she fixed her blue eyes on me. “What time is it?”

“Too early. Go back to sleep.”

“Have you slept?”

“Don’t worry about me.” Jesus, I hope she took my gruffness as the warning I wanted it to be. I pinched the bridge of my nose with my thumb and forefinger because I suddenly had a pounding headache.

Her eyes drifted shut, but she reached out and patted the mattress beside her. “You need to rest properly. Doctor’s orders.”

I felt my mouth pull into a rare, real smile. “You’re not a doctor,” I told her in a soft voice.

Her brows drew together, but she still didn’t open her eyes. “Nurse.”

“By your own admission, you’re only a nursing student.”

That statement earned me a glare. “I’m cold, okay.”

I stared at her for a heartbeat, my memories of the past warring with my present desires. I wanted to lay with her, but I couldn’t bring myself to give her the trust she needed.

“Go back to sleep. I’ll watch over you.”

* * *

I was roused sometime laterby Fallon sliding out of the bed. I pretended to still be asleep, only opening my eyelids a hair to see her in nothing but her underwear and the shirt she’d been wearing for the past who knew how many hours. I tried not to stare at the perfect globes of her ass, but it was just as difficult as ignoring the urge to slide into bed beside her had been.

Once she was safely locked behind the bathroom door, I rose from my position in the armchair, stretching out the best I could. My side throbbed back to life just as I knew it would as soon as I stood, but when a sharp pain lanced through me, I let out a sharp hiss.

Fallon popped her head out, her eyes narrowing on me. “Are you okay?”

“Fine,” I snapped back, hoping to deter her from trying to look after me anymore. I should’ve known better than that.

She stepped from the bathroom fully, and I turned my head away. Fuck.

“What’s wrong now?”

I gestured in the vague direction of her chest. “You’re not wearing a bra and that shirt is fucking see-through.”

She cursed softly, and when I looked back, she had her arms folded across her chest. With her chin, she gestured to my side. “Does it hurt?”

“It’s fine. Do what you need to do then we can leave.”

“I heard you hissing.”

Jesusfuck.“I was just stiff from sleeping in the chair.”

“Are you sure?”

I turned my steely gaze on her, hoping to cow her. When all she did was arch her brow at me, I added, “You don’t need to worry about me, Fallon. Are you finished in the bathroom?”

I brushed past her, feeling every single one of my nerve endings catch alight, but I shoved all that longing deep down and shut the door behind me. After washing my face, I lifted my shirt and looked at the wound. The skin around it was beginning to bruise, and as I touched the edge of the puncture, I winced. There was some swelling there—the tissue raised and red. Retaping the gauze back into place, I stepped out to find Fallon sitting on the bed, fully dressed.

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