by Mary Potter
“I can—” Reaper begins to offer.
“No,” I interrupt and smile slightly at his startled look. “Thanks, but no. This one is my responsibility.”
Reaper stares at me for a moment, and I wonder if he’ll argue. The last time I tried to take on something as my responsibility, I’d ended up kidnapped in the middle of the desert. Then he nods once.
“Finish it tomorrow,” he insists. “It’s been a long day. We need to get some sleep.”
Despite his words, he doesn’t move. I lean back in my chair. He’s leaning on the edge of the table beside me, and I can feel the warmth from his skin washing over me. It reminds me that we haven’t really spoken about what happened between us the other night.
Maybe we don’t need to. All the bitterness and resentment that Mandy uncovered was gone. Without any of that in the way, I can understand why Reaper reacted the way he did. He lost Lacey. He hadn’t intended to lose me, too.
I feel the need to apologize again, but I swallow it, unprepared to answer why I’m saying it once more. Instead, we drink in silence, comfortable beside each other. The small buzz from the alcohol is enough to relax my muscles and calm the thoughts that are swirling around my brain.
“Reaper…” I finally start, breaking the silence.
“Jack,” he interrupts.
I blink, confused. “Jack, what?” I ask.
He gives me a small smile. “My name,” he replies, “is Jack.”
My breath catches as I look up at him. The kitchen light is above him, framing his face and throwing his angular chin into stark relief. There’s a warm look in his eyes, and I can’t fathom the depth of the trust he’s showing me.
Having his real name somehow makes him seem more human and less like the powerful figurehead that I began to see him as. It reminds me of moving beneath him the other night, our bodies entwined, and the connection that we shared.
As those thoughts come to mind, I ache to feel that again. I feel both vulnerable and strong with him, safe when he encloses me in his arms. He makes me feel so deeply that it’s all I can do not to give in to the craving that I feel every single time we meet.
I want him. I want to feel his heavy chest beneath my palm and run my pale hands over his colorful tattoos, mapping out every inch of his body until I know it as well as mine.
My hands twitch, and I come back to myself abruptly to find my body leaning forward, drawn in like a magnet to Reaper. He’s still watching me, and something deeper flickers in his eyes.
He reaches out first, and his large hand is gentle as it cups my face, his fingers running over my cheek as though he needs to convince himself that I’m still here. I wonder how frightened he was when he realized I was missing.
I wonder why that matters so much to me.
“I’m sorry,” I breathe, the words finally making their way past my lips, though I’m not sure now what I’m apologizing for.
Reaper lifts his other hand and cups his hands around my face gently as though I’m a fragile piece of glass. For once, the thought doesn’t frustrate me.
“Stop apologizing,” he rumbles, his voice low. He leans in, and I can feel his breath on my face and smell the musky scent of his body. “It’s alright.”
Tears spring unexpectedly to my eyes. It isn’t alright. I hurt Emma. Griffin is still out there. I didn’t get the chance to save Nancy. There’s a small fear in me that this won’t last, that I’ll be looking over my shoulder forever.
Reaper’s hands tighten slightly on my cheeks, and my eyes dart up to him. His gaze is intense.
“It’s alright,” he repeats. “I’ll make sure of it.”
“I’ll protect you,” he doesn’t say, but I hear it anyway. And I believe him. He’s already done so much for me in a short time. I believe it when he tells me he’ll keep me safe. The last of my misgivings fade away, and my shoulders relax from the tense hold I unknowingly had them in.
It’s alright.
I lift my hands and lay my palms flat on his chest without any pressure, feeling the heat of his body through his shirt. When I look up again, my breath catches at the blazing look in his eyes, and his hands tremble ever so slightly on my face. I realize a split second before he leans in that he’s going to kiss me.
I lean in too. When our lips meet, soft and questioning to make sure this was alright, I sigh against him, and my eyes flutter closed. This feels right. It feels like coming home after a very long day.
Then I press up, straightening my spine as I deepen the kiss, swiping my tongue over his lip before opening my mouth. He takes the invitation and tangles his tongue with mine, his hands slipping down my neck and onto my shoulders as he steps closer to me. My legs fall open so that he can settle between them. My hands settle on his hips, my grip clenching as I pull him in, wanting him to be as close as he can possibly be.
I don’t know if this is right. Maybe we’re both still overwhelmed by what happened today. Maybe we need to take a step back and wait until we’re both calm. But that’s never been the way either of us has done anything. We push until we break, passion overflowing, and I’m okay with that. I don’t need to slow down. I know what I want.
Reaper breaks the kiss first, and we pant, trying to catch our breaths, though neither of us moves back.
“Bedroom,” Reaper finally groans.
I want to say that it’s too far. I want to drag him to the living room instead and have my way with him there. But then I remember Emma, who will come down in the morning. I groan in frustration as I push him back, electric currents sparking from the contact.
“Hurry,” I breathe as he pulls me to my feet.
Climbing the staircase was a harder feat than it should have been. Somewhere along the way, we both lose our jackets, likely strewn on the stairs or the banister, and our hands fly everywhere. I can’t get enough of him as my hands slip beneath his shirt. I nip at his bare neck, biting just hard enough to cause a jolt through his body.
“We’re going to fall,” I murmur as we teeter dangerously, halfway up the staircase.
Reaper growls, and then his hands are beneath me, lifting me up so that my legs wrap around his waist. One arm wraps behind my back while the other one explores up my shirt, fingering the wire of my bra. My heart is beating too fast, and I let out a groan that was louder than I meant it to be, dimly hoping in the back of my mind that I don’t wake Emma.
After that, though, the trip is quick. Reaper carries me effortlessly to his room, and he kicks the door closed behind us before he dumps me on the bed, instantly climbing on top of me. His hips crash against mine, and I can feel his cock straining against the material of his pants, desperate for friction as we move together.
I scrabble at his shirt, pulling the buttons apart before I slide it down over his shoulders, making sure to scrape his skin lightly with my nails. He shudders under my ministrations, his back arching for a moment. Then he flicks open the button on my jeans, dragging the zipper down. My hips buck upward, needing more, but he moves his hand away, chuckling breathlessly at the whine that rips itself from my throat.
I need to feel more of him. His shirt drops to the ground, and the heat from his bare skin is so intense that I almost feel like I’m burning up just by being near him. He pushes my jeans down over my legs. I sit up, yanking my blouse over my head as he drops his own pants, stepping out of them and kicking them away. We’re both left in our underwear, and I run my eyes over him, barely aware of him doing the same.
Last time, everything had been so rushed that I hadn’t taken the time to just pause and look. Now I stare at his chiseled chest, his broad shoulders, and the colorful sleeves that wind their way down his arms.
This is Reaper. This is Jack. This is the man who saved me over and over again, without asking for anything in return. He has bared himself completely to me, and I can do little other than clutch onto him, desperate for him to be as close as he can possibly be.
Then Reaper lays a hand over the single tattoo I have, a small pink flower
behind my right shoulder with Emma’s name scrawled elegantly beneath it. I keep my daughter with me through everything, and knowing the tattoo is there is a comfort.
“Beautiful,” Reaper breathes.
His intent eyes are on my face, and I know that he isn’t talking about my tattoo. I want to find the words to compliment him in return, but speech is torn from me as he dips his head and scrapes his teeth down my jaw, pulling a moan from me instead.
He steps in closer, and I hook my leg around his thighs, tugging him in as much as possible. His cock is tenting his boxers, a wet patch already forming on the silken material, and I rub myself against him, needing more friction. We’re both panting. Every touch sends a zing of electricity through our bodies, making it hard to think about anything other than each other.
“Fuck,” I gasp, my head falling back as his hands wind around me, fumbling for the clasp of my bra. “Jack, I need you.”
My bra falls away, and Reaper pushes back. I almost grab him, wanting to drag him back toward me, but he hooks his thumbs in the elastic waistband of his boxers before dragging them down. His cock, hard and leaking, springs free in an instant.
My breath catches, and I drag my panties down, discarding them somewhere on the floor, uncaring about something so simple when Reaper is looking at me like he wants to devour me. A shudder of pleasure runs through my whole body as he leans in, and I fall backward on the bed until he’s bracing himself over me, his muscles rippling as he struggles to control his breath. I can almost hear his heart beating as frantically as mine.
There’s nothing I want more right now than for Reaper to be in me. I tighten my leg around his thigh, urging him toward me, and he lines up against my entrance, slowly rolling his hips as he moves in.
As he carefully sinks into my body, I release a whoosh of breath that I didn’t realize I’d been holding, forcing my body to relax as he pushes inside. I can feel every inch of him moving, every bump and ridge as he slides forward slowly. It’s enough to almost drive me wild with want, and my hips buck up unconsciously, begging him to go faster.
“More,” I groan, scrabbling uselessly at his back.
Yet I’m unprepared for the way his hips snap forward in the next instant, sinking deep within me in one, strong movement, dragging a cry from my lips as I throw my head backward. He doesn’t give me a single moment to adjust, pulling out and then pushing back in, swiftly finding a rhythm that teases my muscles and sends electricity jolting through me with every thrust.
I do my best to meet his movements, jerking my hips up to meet his, but it’s clear from the start that he completely intends to control tonight. His hands catch mine, lacing our fingers together as he lightly pins them to the mattress. He is panting and sweating above me. I spread my legs wider, needing more and more as I chase the building sensation in my stomach that warns me this won’t last forever.
And then my vision whites out momentarily as Reaper hits a spot that makes pleasure flood through me. He falters for a second at my reaction, and then he adjusts himself to continue hitting that spot. My body goes boneless as he thrusts into me, helpless to do anything other than to ride the overwhelming waves crashing over me.
It isn’t long before I fall over the edge with a cry, my muscles tightening around Reaper’s cock. He curses quietly above me, his voice quivering, and I feel him thrusting several more times before he halts and shudders with a deep groan.
When my limbs finally stop trembling, I open my eyes, blinking the last of the black spots away. Reaper is still hovering over me, panting, but he manages a grin when he meets my eyes.
This wasn’t how I’d expected the night to go. But, if I’m honest, I wouldn’t have it any other way. Reaper’s nearness settles something within me that was still operating on fight or flight mode. I feel safe in his presence.
“alright?” he asks in a low voice as he pulls back.
I smile and drag him back down beside me, sighing in contentment at the feel of his skin. There’s still so much that needs to be done, and I know Reaper will be busy for some time. But right now, for this moment, I have him all to myself. I’m selfish enough to hope that there are more days like this in our future.
“alright,” I tell him.
We slide ourselves up to the pillows and slip under the covers. I gravitate automatically into his arms and close my eyes. I’m not sure what the future holds from here on in, but if I can still feel Reaper with me, I’m looking forward to finding out.
Epilogue: Reaper
Two years later…
I do my best to stand straight and tall, not wishing to fidget. Beside me, Viper snorts and nudges me gently, but I ignore him, my eyes instead on the closed door across the room. I refuse to check my watch again, not wanting Viper to follow up on his threat to take it off me if I looked at it one more time.
“Settle down,” Viper mutters, rolling his eyes.
My nerves are rattled, despite how much I’m trying not to show it. Leave it to Viper to point it out, and I scowl at him with a huff. I’m as settled as I’m going to be. Now I just have to wait for Kyra to arrive.
And hope that she actually arrives.
I shake the thought out of my head. Two years has been a long time, and we’ve weathered every rough patch in our relationship, neither of us able to forget our crazy beginning. Now here we are, and I know that she’ll be here soon. I hope she isn’t as nervous as I feel.
Carefully, I put a hand over my left hip, where a tattoo with an arrow piercing a heart is. I hope that Lacey would be happy for me.
Viper leans in slightly—no doubt, to say something stupid—but it’s at that moment the music starts. We all instantly straighten, and my back goes ramrod straight. I swallow and find that my mouth is dry.
This is it.
The doors opened slowly. Emma comes in first, resplendent in a deep purple dress. The preteen winks at me as she heads toward me. She is as feisty and spirited as her mother, and I can’t help a smile that twists at my lips. Emma might be young, but she’s got a good head on her shoulders.
Skye comes down next. She and Kyra had become fast friends, bonded over their mutual exasperation with Viper and me when our antics got a little too much to handle. Following on her heels is Carla, her smile bright.
And then she’s there, stepping into the room. It’s like the light of the moon creeping out from behind the clouds, illuminating the entire space as she moves toward me.
She’s beautiful. Her hair is pulled into an elegant twist, pieces of it curled around her face, and her makeup is light. Her dress, though, sparkles in the light. Thousands of beads shift as she walks, the off-the-shoulder gown proudly revealing the pink flower on her shoulder. Her veil dips over her face, but I can still see her smile as she draws closer.
When she reaches me, Kyra holds a hand out, and I grasp it firmly in mine, holding it as she falls into step beside me. Her eyes are wet, but her smile is large. I squeeze her hand, letting her know how happy I am to be here.
When Kyra and I met two years ago, there was no denying the connection between us. Yet, somehow, I never thought that I would end up here, at the altar with her, prepared to marry her. I’d once thought Lacey would be standing in her place. Now, though, the other woman is a memory that I carry fondly in my heart, and I know she would have been cheering us on all this time.
“You’re beautiful,” I whisper.
“You don’t clean up too bad yourself,” she whispers back, raking her eyes over my black suit and grey tie.
I fight the urge to laugh as we turn toward our celebrant. Today is one step forward to the rest of our lives.
********
The rest of the day passes in a whirlwind for us both. The sweet taste of the wedding cake is still in my mouth, and I’m almost certain that there’s now a permanent imprint on my back from where everyone in the room, it seemed, had slapped me in congratulations.
We escaped later than we had hoped to, but neither of us found we minded.
The evening was wonderful, from the amazing food, to the music, to our first dance as I got to hold Kyra in my arms and sway slowly with her, both of us pretending, just for a moment, that we were better dancers than we actually are.
Still, the night isn’t finished just yet. I unlock the door to the hotel room that Kyra and I are staying in for the night, giving several of our friends the run of our home as long as they look after Emma. We have plans to go on a honeymoon in a week, but this will do for tonight.
As I step into the room after her, I feel the weight of the envelope in my pocket. I’d carried it all day, waiting for the right moment to give it to her, but it never seemed right. I had to throw that idea away, though. The last hours of the day are slipping away quickly, and I want to make sure she gets this on our wedding day.
“Wow,” Kyra says, looking around with wide eyes. “Sometimes, I forget you’re rich. Then I see you spending your money on something like this.”
I snort. “Nothing wrong with being rich,” I retort. “Especially since I mostly spend it on you.”
Kyra grins at me, knowing the lie for what it is. I buy her flowers frequently, but otherwise, most of my money has gone into paying for the bills recently.
“Well, it’s perfect.” She grins. Then she turns around, and her gaze becomes sultry. “Now, I might need some help getting out of this dress.”
Fuck, I’d like to take her up on the clear invitation. But not yet. Not until I do this.
“Sorry, can we wait for a minute?” I ask, holding up a hand for good measure. “I have something for you.”
Kyra’s eyes widen, and she straightens. “I have something for you too!” she blurts before racing for her bag.
She returns within moments. I know what the brown bag is, easily guessing from the size, but that doesn’t mean I don’t appreciate the good quality scotch she hands me.
“Thank you,” I laugh. “Here.”
I hand over the envelope before I can think better of it, and I watch as she scrutinizes it with an intrigued frown. I want to yell her to just fucking look at it already, but I’d rather not start my marriage off with an argument. Finally, Kyra opens it and unfolds the letter within.