Page 161 of Breaker

She smirks, gliding toward him, hips swaying. My chock thickens. I notice Reap’s eyes seem to glimmer. He’s not unaffected, making me wonder why he doesn’t touch her. This woman is pure lust, a sexy little vixen, designed to lure in victims and she’s ensnared us all.

When Cora reaches Reaper, he grips her at the nape of her neck and tugs her to him. Her palms land flat on his chest, a burst of air leaving her from his slight roughness.

My eyes widen. I don’t think I’m ever going to get used to seeing Reaper so…affectionate.

She’s so fucking small next to him. Just this tiny ball of fire, not even reaching his shoulders. When his thumb skates over her bottom lip, she melts a little, her body molding to his. Cora was wary of Reaper from the start but after last night, she seems to have tossed any apprehension now that she knows he is as possessive with her as he is with Delilah.

Hooking a finger under her chin, he tilts her head back to look in her eyes. “I am going to tell you something and it’s going to upset you.”

“So serious.” She smirks, biting her lip. “Does this upsetting news come with another spanking, big boy?”

His hand drops as he looks up at the ceiling like he’s searching for his patience, but I’d bet this entire estate he’s smiling.

I know the feeling. This woman tests in the best possible way.

Reaper grips her by the waist and lifts, her legs instantly wrapping around his hips. Even she looks surprised, her eyes growing wide, hands gripping his thick shoulders. He carries her toward the sofa beside my chair where she was fucked last night. He sets her down, dropping to a crouch in front of her.

There’s a flickering thought, stained slightly green with envy that springs to life, seeing him touch her so often and with so much ease. Growing up, outside of Hunter, no one was allowed to touch Reap. He’d shrink away or become outright volatile if we even looked like we may get close enough to brush his flesh.

Not that I blame him. Reaper’s scars aren’t just etched into his skin. They’ve been engraved into his bones.

“You know, you’re a little scary, Reaper,” Cora says bringing my thoughts back to her. “All broody with those intense black eyes.” She winks. “It’s pretty sexy.”

Reaper brushes the back of his fingers along her cheek. “And you’re beautiful, my Baby Girl.” He removes his other glove and casts me a glance. I catch the darkened dread filling those black eyes.

I think… Fuck. I think my heart isn’t going to survive this.

“Our father will be here soon,” Reaper says, setting his gloves on the sofa next to her. Cora watches his hands, a little transfixed as she skates a finger over his knuckle.

The one dedicated to Hunter.

“Father,” she says slowly, tasting the word, but then she nods like she’s just slotted a puzzle piece into place. “Why’s he coming here?”

“You know why, Baby Girl,” Reaper says, swiping a finger over her cheek.

Her brows knit. “He’s the one who gives you orders. Your father.” Those perfectly freckled cheeks flush red and I can almost see the anger, the disappointment, the absolute heartbreak as is cinches in her chest. I want to look away, it’s so unbearable to witness, but I force myself to look. We promised her.

Even if I had to send you away, I’d always come for you.

That’s what Reaper promised. That’s whatwepromised.

“He’s coming for me,” Cora says. A tear leaks down her cheek. My hands fist. I want to ruin something, but the problem is we’re causing those tears. “You promised me.”

Reaper’s head drops.

“You told me I wasn’t going back.” She wipes angrily at her cheek. Like her tears are offensive. A betrayal to her brave face.

Reaper brings his eyes back to her. “I don’t have a choice.”

Her face pinches with anger. “You told me if you’d had to let me go, you’d get me. Was that a lie too?”

He shakes his head, his shoulders drooping in defeat. But then it’s like something in him shifts. It shifts the air in of the room, turning it thick, heavy with every promise we made last night.

Reaper brings his hand up to his jaw. Hooks his thumb under the fabric of his mask. He rips it off and her eyes blow wide in shock.

Mine do too. I grip the armrests of my chair frozen in place.

“Holy sweet Jesus,” Cora breathes. Her green eyes dart over to me.

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