Deadly Match

by Eve Langlais

  She thrashed and moaned. “No.” The dream, the one that had terrorized her for so long, wouldn’t loosen its grip.

  A warm body cradled around hers, and a low, husky voice soothed. “It’s okay, honey. It can’t hurt you. No one can hurt you.”

  Joel could. Joel would. The dead weren’t supposed to harm the living. Yet he still did.

  Tears clung to her lashes as she forced them open. “I’m sorry.” She hiccupped, realizing her night terrors had woken Reaper up.

  “Sorry for what? Giving me an excuse to hold you?”

  And hold her he did, his brawny arms circling her body, his body pressing against her back, cradling her in his grip.

  “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

  “I wasn’t sleeping.”

  A reminder she’d taken his bed. She’d brought the nightmare to his doorstep.

  Because of Annique, he was in danger.

  I am so selfish. Being in his apartment put him at risk. She had to leave.

  She struggled to get out of his grip.

  Tried, and failed.

  “Let me go.”

  He held her tighter. “You’re not going anywhere, honey.”

  “I should never have let you talk me into coming here. I have to leave.”

  “You can’t go home.”

  “Obviously. And I wasn’t talking about my place. I need to leave. This city. Now.”

  His body stiffened. “Will you finally tell me what you are so afraid of? Or should I say who? Tell me his name, and I’ll take care of it.”

  “You can’t help me.” A bitter laugh escaped her. “No one can. He was supposed to be dead.”

  “Obviously not. Who is it?”

  She wanted to lie. To conceal the shame of her past. To hide the horror of it. But just once, dammit, she’d like someone to know the truth, to understand why they’d find her corpse at some point.

  Besides, did it matter if she told? She’d soon be gone. She might have gotten complacent in her new life, but she still remembered how to disappear.

  Annique wiggled enough that she turned to face him, his face so close, his expression in the dim gloom of the room intent on her.

  “It’s the same old story.” A wry twist of her lips. “Even though it’s been years, I have an ex-boyfriend with breakup issues.” Understatement.

  “I thought you said he was dead.”

  She shrugged and stared at this chest, his rather nice chest. “Guess I was wrong. He’s back and still playing his sick games. I have to leave before he starts in on you.”

  At that, he scoffed. “He might be good at terrorizing women, but I’m not so easily scared.”

  “He’s a killer.”

  “So am I.”

  “Killing it at real estate is not the same,” she snapped.

  “You’d be surprised what I can do to close the deal,” he murmured, one hand moving to cup the back of her head, threading his fingers through her hair.

  “I don’t want anyone to get hurt because of me.”

  “Don’t you worry about me, Annie. I can take care of myself.” His voice lowered to a husky growl. “And you.”

  “Joel doesn’t care about laws.”

  “Neither do I.” The odd statement was lost amidst the roaring in her head, the fire licking at her skin.

  He tugged her closer, his lips, framed by his beard, tickling against hers.

  “I—”

  “You,” he said, interrupting, “need to stop talking.”

  “You can’t—”

  He meant what he said. His lips silenced hers, the brush of them slanting over her mouth, stealing all words and thought.

  Not all thoughts. One thing did remain.

  Need.

  It burgeoned in her as he kissed. Boiled her blood. She found herself clutching at him, her fingers gripping his head and hair, her mouth tightly meshed to his.

  Their bodies pressed against each other, the fabric of the shirt she wore rubbing his bare chest while her nude legs were covered by his track-pant-clad ones.

  The sheets didn’t ignite, yet the heat between them had her panting and sweating.

  Carnal hunger had her in its grip. When he rolled onto his back, taking her with him, she gasped but enjoyed the new position. It allowed her to rub her mound against the evidence of his desire.

  The friction was delicious. Evocative.

  His hands cupped her ass as they continued to kiss, rocking against each other, partially clothed, yet she’d never been more aroused.

  So ready to—

  A shrill ring of a phone startled them both.

  She pulled back, reality intruding on her pleasure, her lips throbbing and bereft without the pressure of his.

  The phone kept ringing, refusing to be ignored.

  He cursed as she clambered off him. “Of all the rotten timing.”

  Didn’t he mean perfect timing? She’d almost had sex with him. Would have. Still might, given how her body ached for his touch.

  But the phone kept up its shrill ring, and he rolled out of bed. Montgomery stalked off, his upper body bare and breathtaking, even from behind. Broad, muscled, his chest tapering down to his track pants, which hung low on his hips.

  The phone stopped its insistent ring, and despite the silence in the place, she didn’t even hear the murmur of his voice.

  Rolling to the opposite side of the bed, she grabbed her phone charging on the nightstand and checked it.

  No messages. Not a single one.

  What did it mean? Perhaps he’d not gotten her number yet. Except how could he get her address without discovering it?

  The stress was the worst part. Stop toying with me and get it over with.

  Getting it over with, though, would mean someone dying. Probably her since the last time obviously failed.

  She sighed. Now what?

  What do you mean, now what? You know what to do. What has to happen.

  By the time Montgomery returned, she was fully dressed and about to leave.

  He stood in the doorway, leaned in it actually, blocking the exit.

  “Where do you think you’re going, Annie?”

  “Get out of my way.” She stalked toward him, determined not to let him sway her. This man who wore a suit to work had no idea what he was dealing with.

  Or whom.

  He didn’t budge, even when she shoved at him.

  The temper—and frustration and fear—she’d held at bay spilled out. She pummeled at his brick-hard chest. “Move, dammit. Why won’t you let me go?”

  “Because. You’re in trouble, and I can’t walk away.”

  “I thought you weren’t a hero.”

  “I’m not, but I can’t stand aside. So stop fighting me.”

  “Or what? You can’t keep me a prisoner here. What are you going to do? Tie me to a bed?”

  His lips quirked. “That has some interesting possibilities.”

  “You can’t help me. No one can.”

  “I don’t see you suggesting we call the cops.”

  She snorted. “Because they can’t do squat. The only thing to do is disappear. And before you tell me I can’t, I’m going to say yes I can. I’ve done it before.”

  “And were found.”

  “So I’ll be more careful.”

  “Until what? Until he finds you again?” He arched a brow. “That’s not a solution, Annie.”

  “Then what do you suggest we do instead?”

  His lips quirked. “How do you feel about skiing?”

  Explaining she didn’t have anything to wear didn’t deter him.

  Actually, all the excuses she managed didn’t budge the man. Even the fact it was three a.m.

  The man didn’t like the word no. He just pretended it didn’t exist, which was why, at the crack of dawn, they were in his car driving north to some resort.

  Together.

  He deserved the drool she left on his shoulder when she fell asleep most of the way.

  When she woke
for the last stretch, she purposely ignored him to answer some emails from her staff. It was the day before Christmas Eve.

  The last-minute flurry for a date was on, yet she was hundreds of miles away from the office.

  And oddly content. All because of the man beside her.

  Despite all her attempts to keep away, they’d gotten close. No point in denying that anymore. She might have started out trying to keep him at arm’s length, but he kept forcing his way in.

  A part of her found it flattering that, after all the dates he’d rejected, he’d fixated on her.

  At the same time, it frightened. A man this powerful, this determined…what was he capable of if he didn’t get his way? And how badly could he hurt her?

  “You’ve got that look again,” he murmured.

  “What look?”

  “The one that says you’re about to argue. Bring it, honey. I’m ready.”

  “I am not always arguing.”

  “Says the woman arguing right now.”

  “You’re an ass.”

  “Is that any way to talk to the man taking you on a romantic getaway?”

  “It’s not romantic if you practically kidnap me.”

  “The number of pirate books featuring abduction in the bookstore says otherwise.”

  Her lips twitched. “Do you have an answer for everything?”

  “Yes.”

  “Must be hard being right all the time.”

  “You have no idea.”

  The self-assured arrogance should have been a turn-off. Instead, it brought out the womanly side of her, the part that was happy to kick back and let a man cater to her.

  Did that make her weak? Not at all. It was nice to have someone else making the decisions for a change.

  Hopefully, it wouldn’t get them both killed.

  “Where is this place we’re going?”

  “And ruin the surprise? You’ll soon see.”

  What she saw was a barren road, hardly any traffic, and snow. So much freaking white covering the ground, the trees, piled in banks on either side of the road.

  What she didn’t see was any sign of someone following. They were so remote, even her phone lost signal.

  No one can find me now.

  She had yet to decide if that was a good or bad thing.

  As for the fact that he’d only rented them one bedroom to share?

  Bad. So bad. Because she knew she wouldn’t be able to keep her hands off him.

  Nor did she want to.

  Chapter Twenty

  The chalet he took Annie to boasted one rather large building, three stories in total. The main floor was dedicated to guest services—spa facilities, dining, lounge, and even a small gym. The second and third floors hosted luxurious guest quarters.

  From the outside, the stained logs stood out in sharp contrast to the snowy backdrop. The windows, their French panes double-glazed against the cold, peeked out. So many eyes could be watching as he pulled out the suitcases from the trunk of his car.

  Annie had shaken her head and sighed when the apparel arrived at his condo earlier that day. In her size. Folded and packed, ready to go.

  When she asked how, he’d winked—yeah, he’d fucking winked again—and mouthed, “magic.” The powers of a credit card and friends who knew how to get shit done, even shopping for clothes for a trip to the snowy mountains.

  As he let the valet take his car to park, and the bellman wheeled their luggage inside, he took a moment to peruse the windows, wondering if anyone inside was watching.

  Is my target here?

  An anonymous tip claimed she was.

  If true, then what the fuck was he thinking bringing Annie along?

  I had no choice. She was in danger if left alone. And if he didn’t keep an eye on her, she’d flee.

  The best and only thing to do was keep her close.

  You could have asked Harry to stash her somewhere safe.

  Could have, but didn’t. He didn’t want anyone else protecting her.

  And if the asshole terrorizing her came after her here—they wouldn’t find his body until the spring thaw.

  If ever.

  “Why are you grinning?” she asked.

  He peered down at her, still smiling. “Can’t a man be happy to go away with a beautiful woman?”

  Her cheeks took on a bloom that had nothing to do with the chilly air. “You don’t have to sweet-talk me anymore. I’m already here with you.”

  “I don’t sweet-talk.” Perish the thought. “Just stating the truth. Come on. Let’s get you inside.”

  Inside had a giant crackling hearth, couches scattered, and a few people in turtlenecks and sweaters who gazed at them curiously as they strode in, bringing with them a gust of cold air.

  As they checked in, Reaper casually perused those in the lounge area. Was one of them the woman he sought? As for Annie’s stalker, he wouldn’t know. She’d yet to give more than a mumbled, “Tall asshole, you’ll know him if you see him. He’ll be the one talking trash to me.”

  Not with my fist in his mouth, he won’t.

  Annie didn’t say anything when she found out they’d be sharing a room. The sexual tension between them could have been cut with a knife it had gotten so thick.

  She didn’t shy from his touch, and he’d seen her on more than one occasion staring at him, only to blush when he caught her.

  Soon, honey. Soon, you’ll be mine.

  The room given to them was big, but the bed still took up an impressive amount of space, as did the fireplace with—oh, yeah—the faux fur rug in front. Not real. The brochure stated that in small print.

  He could almost touch her nervousness as they entered.

  A nicer man might have offered to see if they had another room available to give her space.

  I am not a nice man.

  He could argue that he did it to keep her safe. That he couldn’t exactly protect her if she slept elsewhere. The real truth was that he wanted her with him. Here. In this room. In this bed.

  Naked in his arms.

  Goals.

  She shed her outer clothes and hung them on the hooks on the wall, the rubber mat under it meant to catch any drips from outerwear. Her boots followed, and she said nothing as he followed suit.

  Winter garments shed, Reaper watched her as she prowled the room, pausing for a moment to stretch her hands out to the flames.

  “So, um—”

  Knowing she would just start arguing—because it was what she did when nervous, he’d noticed—he swept her into his arms and kissed her. Not exactly a hardship, given that he’d wanted to kiss her for hours now.

  Like when she ranted at him in his condo about not going on this trip.

  When she’d drooled on him as she took a nap on his shoulder.

  And now that they were alone, he didn’t stop the urge. He plastered his mouth to hers, and while she might have gasped at the contact, she kissed him back.

  Kissed him and held him tightly. If only there were fewer layers between them.

  He pulled back to take care of the problem, which meant she got a lungful of air.

  “Shouldn’t we—”

  “No.”

  “But—”

  He slanted his mouth over hers as his hands tugged at her clothes. The sweater came off over her head. He slid her pants down, the loose fabric pooling around her feet, easy enough for her to step out of.

  As if his denuding of her body acted as a catalyst, she also stripped him, her hands skimming and stroking skin as she removed all his clothing except his socks.

  They both stood in socks, and she giggled as she stared at their feet.

  “Should we take them off?”

  “I say we keep our toes warm and keep them on.” He winked, and she laughed. She looked so amazing in that moment.

  Naked and proud, she didn’t hide her body, her heavy breasts with the dark nipples, the indent of her waist and flaring hips. Even her nicely rounded thighs. One hundred percent woma
n.

  While he observed her, she stared at him. She reached forward to trace the scar on his chest.

  “What happened? Heart attack?”

  “Not quite. I was injured at work.”

  “I didn’t know real estate was dangerous.”

  “You have no idea,” he murmured. “What’s this?”

  He noted the white line of a scar across her own chest. Surely not…

  “Knife wound.”

  He didn’t ask who, just reeled her close and dug his fingers into her hair, finding the pins holding it in place, pulling them free so that her dark strands tumbled around her shoulders.

  “So fucking beautiful,” he growled.

  “You aren’t too shabby yourself,” was her husky reply.

  His nostrils flared at the teasing words. This was the woman he wanted. A woman untamed and ready to be loved.

  He pressed his mouth to hers, drinking of her essence, imprinting himself on her lips.

  Something in her exploded. Or perhaps it was just the last barrier to her resistance finally brought down by lust. Whatever it was, her mouth devoured his hungrily. Her tongue slid against his and savored him. She even sucked at him, a suddenly brazen temptress.

  Her body brushed against his, igniting every single nerve ending he owned. Plus some. The heat of her scorched his skin.

  Her hands clutched at his shoulders while he stroked over the skin of her back, learning her shape, dipping low enough to cup her sweet ass.

  He spun her so that she spooned into him, his mouth dragging across her neck up to the lobe of her ear. He licked it, and she sighed, her head dropping back, giving him access. As he sucked her tender flesh, his hands cupped the curve of her breasts, kneading them in his palms. Squeezing them. Rolling his callused thumbs over the tips.

  She shivered.

  Not from the cold. The flames dancing in the fireplace kept the room warm. But desire shook her, and he held her cradled against his body, the skin-to-skin contact exciting, and they’d only just begun.

  His hand slid down her belly to cup her mound, and the heat of her scorched. She moaned as she gyrated against his palm, demanding more.

  More is coming, honey.

  She whirled around and reached to grab him, her hand barely fitting around his engorged cock.

  “Nice,” she murmured.

  He couldn’t help but swell at the appreciation in the word.