Page 23 of Reaper
I’m attracted to her. I have been since seeing her in that hallway trying to stay invisible, despite Nikita parading her around like his most prized possession. Spending too much time with her can end up with me fucking her, and I don’t think she’s ready for that. Shit, I don’t know if I’m ready for that because I know it will be different with her. But what can watching one movie hurt? I’ll sit on this end of the couch, while she sits on the other. We’ll drink a little wine, watch a movie, and pass out drunk. Then the next day we’ll act like nothing happened. Or maybe not.
“It’s early in the morning, Paris. We both need to get some sleep.”
Disappointment flares in her eyes but she squashes it quickly. “You go to bed then. I’m restless, I need a little more alcohol and a good movie before I even think about trying to sleep.”
Even though I should, I don’t want to leave her alone. No one should drink alone.
“Alright, just one movie and as long as it isn’t some fucking love story, I’m in,” I say making the decision to just do it. “I hate that shit.”
She scoffs, rolling her eyes. “Just because I’m a woman doesn’t mean I’m going to pick some chick flick, Logan. But what do you have against love stories?”
“So, you don’t like chick flicks?” I ask, disbelief in my voice but also ignoring her question about my belief in love stories.
I have lived the greatest love story. I don’t need to see the shit on tv, and in movies to remind me what I’m missing out on in this miserable life. And I thought all women liked that lovey dovey shit. She’s different, but she’s still a woman.
“Of course, I do. Who wouldn’t love to see people get their happily ever after even if they aren’t real? But I’m not in the mood for love stories.”
Me either.
“I get it.”
I definitely get it. I don’t want to see other people happy and living their best lives when I’m trudging through mine. Once again who wants a reminder of what they’re missing out on. I get enough of that seeing my brothers get their happily ever afters.
I pour more wine for myself and her, then place the bottle back on the table. I grab the remote and move from the armchair to the sofa, sitting next to her.
“If not romance, what do you have in mind?”
“Something scary.”
I can’t stop the smile that crosses my face as I look at the enthusiasm of hers. It’s the first time since she’s been here thatshe’s genuinely smiled, excitement filling her beautiful brown eyes. I like it a lot. I probably like it a little too much.
I clear my throat, pulling my gaze away from her, and flip through the channels until I land on one of my favorite movies. You can’t go wrong with a fiery end to humanity and brain eating zombies.
I glance at her, and a small smile ghosts over her face as she sips on her white wine watching the movie. This is probably the most normal day she’s had in a while. It sure as hell is the most normal one I’ve had in a long time.
Most of my attention is on the television, but I occasionally check on her to see if she’s enjoying herself.
We both sit in silence and watch the movie. She jumps and squeezes her eyes shut during the scary bits, which makes me laugh and earns me a glare. At other times she argues at the television because she thinks the person does something stupid. She must be enjoying the show—she hasn’t asked me to change the channel yet.
When her glass of wine and mine gets too low, I make sure to top it off. We both need to relax and enjoy the moment. We’re both going to be plastered after this and right not I don’t care, and I don’t think she does either.
Not even an hour into the movie her breathing becomes heavy. I glance over at her and she’s fast asleep. I can’t help but admire her beauty and how peaceful she looks. Very different from the looks I’ve witnessed these past few days. I know she’s worried, and annoyed that I’ve been intentionally keeping her in the dark about everything.
The Petrovs are out for blood. They’re looking for her. They’ve issued a no kill order, which means the Pakhan wants to have a little fun with her before he finishes the job. She doesn’t need the dirty details. She’s been through enough.
I sit my glass on the table, turn off the television, then drop the remote on the table beside the empty bottle of wine. Grabbing her empty glass from her hand I sit it on the table beside mine. I’ll get it in the morning.
“You can’t let her sleep here, Logan,” I mumble to myself, debating whether I should leave Paris on the couch, wake her up, or carry her to her room.
Even though I’m slightly buzzed, which might make the trip a little unstable if I carry her, I don’t want to wake her. Even though she hasn’t had a nightmare for a few nights, she’s been having trouble sleeping. And she looks so peaceful right now.
Ignoring my reservations, I lift her from the couch and like it’s second nature to her, she wraps her arms around my neck, snuggling closer to me.
“You smell so good,” she mumbles in her sleep, her lips grazing the side of my neck. “Not like him. Why couldn’t I have met you first? I’m not good enough for you. He ruined me.”
I pause, the echo of her words ring in my ears as I replay them in my mind. Little does she know I’m the one that’s not good enough for her.
I try my best to squash the anger mixed with desire swirling its way through me. Although it’s been a while since a woman has made me want to fuck her not just for a release, now is not the time. She’s been through too much.
