Page 8 of The Grim, Me, and The Reaper Makes Three

TATIANA

Tati stumbled as they landed in a dimly lit space, grateful for William’s solid arm around her waist holding her steady. Her eyes flicked around, taking in their surroundings. Dark stone walls stretched high above them and brass sconces cast flickering light, painting the perfect picture of a gothic mansion. The air was comfortably warm, heated by a fire blazing in the river-stone fireplace that was large enough to house a small family.

“Did you build this?” Tati stepped out into the wide, high-ceilinged living room, looking up where an iron chandelier loomed menacingly over them.

Atticus, who’d tossed his jacket over the back of a long sofa upholstered in rich red velvet, let out a snort. “No,” he said, shaking his head. His long-fingered hands moved to the sleeves of his crisp shirt, which he started to roll up his forearms. “This particular home comes with the job.”

Tati watched his hands, mouth watering at the porcelain skin revealed. There was strength there, the tendons on the back of his hand straining and flexing with each little movement.

“We have tried to make it our own, though,” William’s warm voice added from behind her. A large hand curled around herhip, tugging her back against his chest. His voice was soft in her ear. “Can I get you anything, Tink?”

For a moment, Tati’s eyes shut. It was overwhelming, really, the unbelievable chain of events that had led her to that moment suddenly catching up with her. She cleared her throat. “No thank you,” she began. “I’m just,” she paused, a sudden, disbelieving laugh bubbling from her. “Well, I’m dead. And I’m here with you. It’s fucking wild.”

“Is that a good kind of wild?” William drew her more firmly against him, his free hand reaching up and tucking a piece of hair back behind her ear.

A shiver skittered across her skin, and she tilted toward him, into his touch. “Really good,” she breathed.

William’s low laugh tickled the side of her neck.

“Are you going to stop the silliness and kiss her, pup?”

Tati’s eyes snapped open at Atticus’ low voice.

He sat in a chair on the other side of the room, most of his face hidden in the shadows cast by the flames. His long legs stretched out in front of him, thighs sprawled open, alabaster forearms balanced on the arms of the wing-back chair. Even though she couldn’t see his face clearly, she could still feel the potency of his gaze as he watched them.

Behind her, she felt William’s breathing quicken, the gentle pressure of his chest expanding against her back picking up pace. She craned her neck, needing to look at the man who held her so tightly against him.

She caught the tail end of a glare shot across the room toward Atticus, but then his attention turned to her. And then his tongue swiped across his upper lip and his brow cocked, asking her a silent question.

Tati had spent the past — well, nowfinal— ten years of her life waiting. She’d waited, watching while those around her lived out dreams and fell in love and started families. She’d waitedbecause her dream had been worth the sacrifice. She’d thought it was worth it all.

But now she was dead, and she was fucking done waiting.

She turned in his arms, gripping the lapels of his red coat and tugging him forcefully down to meet her.

There was no preamble to the way William kissed her. His lips were soft, a juxtaposition to the rough catch of the tawny beard that surrounded his mouth. But Tati was barely able to consider how much she loved the harsh tickle before her mind was rendered blissfully blank by the press of his tongue into her mouth. It was a claiming, the way his tongue thrust and curled and licked against hers.

Tati met the onslaught, pushing up onto the tips of her toes so that she could work her own mouth against his. Her tongue challenged him, twining around his, relying on speed to acquaint itself with every single corner of his mouth.

The man’s hands gripped her hips, tugging her flush against him. She wasn’t imagining the hardness of his cock that pressed against her hip, thick and hot even through their clothing.

A desperation built in her body, and she had to have him. Had to see if the thick hair she’d glimpsed peeking out of the plunging neckline of his shirt continued down the rest of his abdomen. Had to follow the lines of his tattoos, see where they twined and wound around his body.

She shoved her hands under the shoulders of his coat, pushing the fabric off of him. Her hands immediately went to the white laces that criss-crossed his chest, fumbling with the knots, loosening them just enough that she would be able to get the shirt up and over his broad shoulders.

“Stop.”

Tati froze, heart pounding in her ears and between her thighs. She swallowed, trying to keep her breaths as quiet aspossible, even though her lungs were screaming for more air. Slowly, she turned to look over her shoulder.

She’d forgotten about the man across the room. The man with the sharp features cast in the harsh firelight, who watched them with a burning ferocity that ignited her skin. But Tati’s gaze wasn’t on his hauntingly beautiful face.

Her cheeks flushed as she took in the curl of his long, pale fingers around the obvious bulge in his trousers. Atticus’ posture had relaxed, leaving him slumped back in his chair, the position somehow still dignified.

“Come closer,” he said, his voice dark, perfectly audible over the faint crackling of the hearth. “Let me see you together.”

William rushed forward, interlacing his fingers with hers and tugging her along with him. They moved from the atrium down a stone step into the sunken living area. They bypassed a low sofa and a standing lamp that looked like it was made from animal bones before coming to a stop in front of Atticus.

A slow, sinister smile spread across his face as he looked up at William. “Beautiful, pup,” he murmured, eyes bright like obsidian reflecting moonlight. “You know what it does to me when you listen so well.” The hand that rested in his lap squeezed his erection as his eyes slid over to look directly at Tati. She tried not to squirm. “And you, Tatiana.” He shook his head. “You are truly something.”

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