Deadly Match

by Eve Langlais

  Then moan as she slid her hand up his shaft, then back again. While she toyed with his cock, his fingers plucked at her nipples, twisting and rolling the nubs while his hips pumped in time to her hand motion.

  “Fuck, Annie, you’re going to make me come.”

  Did she stop?

  No.

  She muttered a husky, “Should I get on my knees?”

  He almost said yes.

  But he’d waited it seemed like an eternity for this moment.

  The carpet provided a soft padding for her body as he lay her down on it. The flames licked in the hearth, the orange light dancing over her nude skin.

  He could have stared at her forever; she looked so perfect. Her skin flushed with passion, her eyelids heavy, her lips parted and welcoming. And he had to stop to grab a condom from the pants he’d shed.

  Clutching the foil packet, he joined her, nestling his heavier body between her thighs, rubbing against her mound.

  She rocked against him and drew him down for another kiss, threading her fingers through his hair. Tugging it. Roughly.

  “Now,” she growled, most demandingly.

  “Give me a second,” he grumbled back as he fumbled with the condom.

  She didn’t make it easy. As he tried to roll it onto his thick cock, she hung on to him, licking and sucking at his neck. Even nipping it.

  What a wild and wicked temptress his Annie was turning out to be.

  Finally, the condom sheathed him, and he was ready to tease her back.

  The head of his cock nudged at her sex. Her thighs parted to give him better access. He pushed into her, stretching the walls of her sex, feeling the tight grip of her around him. Their lips meshed in a heated kiss as he thrust into her. Felt her squeezing tightly.

  As he drove deeper into her, she dug her nails into his back, the painful bite only making his pleasure deepen. She arched under him, drawing him balls-deep, her breath hitching, her skin hot and dewy against his.

  Need coiled inside him, a need to thrust and mark this woman. A need to hear her scream as she came.

  Came for him.

  His hips rotated against her, grinding himself into her tight sheath, pressing against a spot that had her gasping in pleasure.

  The noises she made? Fucking incredible.

  When her body went rigid, he expected the pulsing waves. He didn’t anticipate the exultation that came with her murmured, “Reaper. My Charming Reaper.”

  His name on her lips. His real name. It threw him over the edge, and he pumped her hard and fast, drawing out her waves of bliss, even sending her silently screaming into a second orgasm as his pleasure finally exploded.

  He collapsed against her. Hot. Sweaty. Sated.

  Happy.

  So fucking happy.

  He might have smiled like a moron when she suggested a shower—together. He certainly scowled at the bellhop when he ordered up food, and the guy tried to peek over Reaper’s shoulder.

  He definitely wore a grin when he woke up the next morning to her looking just as gorgeous as ever.

  No artifice with her. No regrets either.

  Annie was the one who rolled atop him to say good morning. She yelled his name when she came around his cock.

  Reaper felt like the man until she said, “Let’s go skiing after breakfast.”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Poor guy. Reaper looked ill at ease on his skis, his body—that sexy body, hard with muscle and dotted with scars—encased in a snowsuit.

  Annique, on the other hand, felt quite at home. While it had been years, more than a decade actually, since she’d done any downhill, like riding a bike, it came back naturally.

  “Are you sure you don’t want to practice some more on the bunny hill?” she asked. Again.

  “That’s for kids.” Spoken with clear disdain.

  She hid a smile. “It’s for beginners.”

  “I’ll be fine. I go where you go.”

  Given his stubborn insistence, she chose an intermediate hill to make it easier on him. Standing at the top, she looked out over the snowy vista.

  The place they’d come to was nestled in the mountains. Conifer-type trees had their pine boughs heavily laden with white stuff. Other trees, their branches barren, stood up in stark contrast among them, but not on the slope. The cleared track beckoned, white and tempting, still freshly groomed and empty of skiers.

  The sun shone brightly overhead, causing a glare on the white snow. Her tinted goggles protected her eyes while balm coated her lips. A smile warmed her heart.

  Last night had been amazing. Better than amazing.

  At forty-some years of age, Annique had been with her fair share of men. But Reaper, as she’d begun calling him—because Montgomery was just too standoffish and Charming too silly—made her feel…

  Like a woman. Dorky, but true. She’d never been so aware of her body. So pleasured in her life.

  Something of her thoughts must have shown on her face because he growled, “We should have stayed in bed.”

  “Plenty of time for that later when it gets dark.” And it got dark early this time of the year. With this being Christmas Eve, they’d be lucky to have natural light until four o’clock. Given the ski season was short enough without short days, most hills lit up their slopes.

  Most days. However, with it being a holiday, there were signs posted mentioning that the slopes would be closed from five p.m. until the morning of the twenty-sixth.

  Oh, dear, whatever shall we do? She didn’t mind the fact that they’d be cooped up in the resort. She’d get to spend Christmas with Reaper.

  Now if only she had a gift.

  I know what I could give him. She licked her lips, and he groaned.

  “Now I really want to be back in our room.”

  “Catch me, and maybe you’ll get your wish.”

  Naughty of her to shove off and sluice down the slope, but if she stared at him any longer, she might just throw herself at him and melt the snow all around. He had an insane ability to make her sizzle.

  The crisp air blew past her cheeks and burned her lungs, a good burn, the kind that screamed fresh and clean.

  She sensed more than saw the careening shape alongside her. No surprise, it was her lover, intent on reaching the bottom first, going much too fast, not swerving from the intentional bump on the track.

  He went airborne, and for a moment, she thought he might actually manage to land on his feet.

  Until he crossed his skis.

  The abrupt tangle propelled him face first into the snow.

  She slowed to a stop beside him and crouched. “Reaper? Are you all right?”

  He groaned as he flopped to his back. “No.”

  “Where does it hurt?” She dropped her poles to palpate him.

  “Lower,” he moaned.

  “Is it your leg?”

  “Not quite. But close.”

  The innuendo became clear, and she slapped his arm. “Jerk. I thought you were hurt.”

  He reached to pull back his goggles, and his blue eyes danced with mirth. “I am. I need you to kiss it better.”

  “Not likely. Let this be a lesson to not screw around on the slopes.”

  “You’re a cruel woman, Annie. Come here.”

  Before she could protest, he’d yanked her down atop him. Their lips meshed, igniting her. Making her sigh against his mouth.

  “Maybe we should go back to the room,” she said.

  “Later. I have my pride to restore. Shall we go again?”

  And they did. They went up and down the slopes, cuddling on the lift. Ignoring the falling flakes. Laughing when fresh drift coated their faces.

  For lunch, the hot sandwiches and soup revived them enough that he declared them ready for another round, on the harder hill this time.

  “Are you sure?” she asked, noting the steepness of this new slope and the falling shadows. The light snow made the twilight fall faster, and the lift guy had already warned them that this wa
s their last run.

  “I’m sure. I think I’ve got the hang of this now.”

  She couldn’t deny that he’d picked up the concept quickly. As a naturally athletic guy, skiing was just another sport.

  She placed her goggles over her eyes, even though the glare from the sun was no longer an issue. It would keep the cold air and snow from blinding her on the descent.

  She actually couldn’t wait to hit the bottom of the slope. After a day spent skiing, she was anxious to try out the Jacuzzi tub in their room, a tub made for two.

  “I think we should order in room service,” she stated, getting ready to go. “With lots of non-perishables.”

  “Oh, not planning to hit the dining room?”

  “I was thinking we’d stay in tonight. And tomorrow.” With that tease, she pushed away from him, hunching down to reduce her wind resistance, letting her body flow with the shape of the hill, an arrow in a bright blue snowsuit heading for a warm fire, a hot drink, and scorching sex.

  The snow fell heavier now, making it gloomy, but she aimed herself for the lights layered at the bottom.

  She didn’t look behind her, assuming Reaper kept close. The man proved to be an attentive companion, and she felt safe with him. He stared at everyone he saw as if he worried her stalker would suddenly appear.

  Doubtful.

  She’d told no one, not even her office, where she was going. She’d even removed the battery from her phone, just in case. It was, after all, what they did in the movies.

  The first sharp crack to break past the whoosh of skis on snow she thought nothing of. Branches could sound loud out here when the cold and ice made them snap.

  But when Reaper shouted, “Get low. Someone is shooting,” she quickly realized their vulnerability out on the open slope.

  Fear made her clench, and her stiff body didn’t handle the slope like it should.

  She went tumbling for the first time that day, the fluffy layer of snow softening the blow to her chin and wetting her lips.

  Swish. With a spray of snow, Reaper stopped beside her.

  “Get up.” He hauled her to her feet, but she had to spend a second shoving her boot back into the bindings of her ski.

  Then she shoved off, mostly because a glance back showed a figure dressed all in black barreling down at them.

  Is it Joel? Oh, God, had he found her?

  Another shot was fired, splintering the snow ahead of them, and Reaper cursed and shouted, “We’re too open.”

  Way out in the open, with still too far to go until they reached the bottom.

  Despite the sign to stay on the track, she veered into a chute bordered by trees, most likely a utility road for the trail groomers, but she didn’t care. The urge to hide was too strong.

  Maybe hidden in the backcountry, she’d evade the attacker. But what about Reaper? A quick glance behind showed she was alone.

  Reaper hadn’t made the switch over. Or did he purposely stay on the slope to try and draw Joel to him?

  Who else but her former lover would be shooting at them?

  She heard no more loud retorts of gunfire, nothing but her own panting breaths and the whoosh as she careened ever downwards. She had no lights to guide her, only deepening shadows and the darker edges that showed her the forest, that treacherous trap waiting to waylay her.

  Please let Reaper be okay.

  He’d come to mean so much to her. A surprise really, given how she’d closed herself off for so long. She was afraid to care. Afraid she’d fuck up again.

  Yet he’d managed to slam past her defenses and insist that she take note of him.

  And she had.

  She fell for Charming Reaper Montgomery. Fell hard. And now, because of it, he might die.

  She leaned down lower, willing the path to veer, to get her back on the slope so she could see what was happening.

  That wish was granted only seconds later as the path branched, a sliver-like chute between the trees that she shot into, using her poles to guide her.

  Out she popped, the expanse before her clear, the lights below so close now and beckoning. What of Reaper?

  She dared to glance back and saw the figure bent low, a shape caught in shadows, bearing down on her. She whimpered and faced forward, poles tucked by her side while the safety of the chalet lights taunted.

  The sudden hump in the ground caught her off guard, and it launched her. She twisted wrong; she knew it even before she landed.

  She tried to correct herself. Failed.

  Hitting the ground, she got another face full of snow.

  Get up. You idiot. Move!

  She got to her knees, one ski missing, the other clinging stubbornly. Amidst her panicked breaths, she could hear someone behind her.

  Getting closer.

  Closer.

  Speaking.

  She burst into tears as the words cleared the panic in her mind. “It’s okay, Annie, it’s me.”

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Reaper lied. Shit wasn’t okay. He’d let his guard down and look what had happened.

  Someone was shooting at them.

  And missing.

  But that wasn’t the point. He’d brought Annie to this resort on a flimsy tip that might have just turned concrete—and deadly.

  Or was her stalker wilier than Reaper had given him credit for? Reaper would have sworn they’d left the city without any followers, but in this day of digital tracking, who knew?

  He couldn’t even be sure who’d attacked them, other than if they’d wanted them dead, they’d have painted that hillside red.

  But he couldn’t exactly say that to a shaking Annie.

  She hugged him tightly, so close she dragged him into the snow with her.

  He didn’t mind. The fact that she could tackle him to the ground meant she was alive.

  For now.

  When she’d gone off alone, he’d wondered. Especially since the skier attacking them disappeared.

  He’d slowed down, listening, dreading the crack of a gunshot. Straining to hear a whimper.

  When Annie had popped out of the woods farther down, he’d felt a rush of relief.

  That reprieve wouldn’t last if they stayed in the snow, presenting themselves as perfect targets.

  He rolled off her and hauled her to her feet. “We have to get off this hill.” He pulled his gun, a weapon she didn’t question as she put on her ski.

  The thickly falling snow and failing daylight made it hard to see a few feet beyond. When she was ready to go, he had her in front of him, his gun tucked within easy reach. He wasn’t skilled enough yet to ski and aim at the same time.

  It would suck to accidentally shoot Annie.

  She’d probably be the first death he ever felt guilty about.

  They made it to the bottom of the hill without incident.

  At the bottom, as they removed their skis, the teenager, headphones in his ears, didn’t even ask them about the shooting. Probably never even heard it.

  They were both quiet as they entered the chalet. Annie wore that nervous air about her again, well deserved at this point. Her eyes darted to every corner, looking for danger.

  Reaper proved more subtle about it but was just as attentive. Did their attacker have the nerve to try and blend in? Was he the one by the fire pretending to look at his phone? What about the guy at the front desk, flirting with the receptionist?

  Given Annie didn’t cower, he assumed none of them was this Joel character she was convinced stalked her. Could it mean that perhaps it was Reaper’s enemy after him?

  The woman might have heard that Reaper was looking. Perhaps she wanted to finish the job she’d started. If that were the case, though, then why attack him on the hill?

  The shooter could have picked him off easily any other place.

  Wrapping his arms around Annie’s shoulders, he guided her upstairs, disliking the prickling sensation between his shoulder blades as he turned his back on the great room to climb the steps.

/>   Surely only someone truly suicidal and brazen would shoot him in front of witnesses.

  Then again…in the chaos that followed, someone could easily escape.

  Arriving at their door, he checked for signs of tampering. Unlocking it, he entered first, gun drawn, alert for any possible intruders.

  The room appeared tidy. The bed made. The clothes they’d strewn on the floor neatly hung over the back of a chair.

  Annie stripped out of her snow gear and immediately headed for the fire. She held out her hands to warm them while he called downstairs and arranged for a few things.

  He checked his phone. The storm must have been impeding his satellite signal, though, because he couldn’t even retrieve emails. They were on their own.

  Once the food arrived, he locked their door and called Annie over.

  “Come and eat.”

  “I’m not hungry.” She sounded so morose.

  “Then get naked.”

  “I don’t want sex either,” she snapped, whirling to face him.

  “Who said anything about sex?” He gestured to the tub. “I think we could both use a relaxing soak.”

  “What I need is to get out of here, board the first plane or train or bus I can find, and disappear.”

  “That won’t solve anything, and you know it.” He stripped out of his clothes, noting how she followed his every move.

  “And what do you suggest I do?” she retorted.

  “I think you should get out of those clothes before they get wet.” He stalked toward her, and her gaze narrowed.

  “What are you doing?”

  “What’s it look like I’m doing?”

  “You’re trying to seduce me.”

  “And you’re not cooperating very well.”

  “This is serious, Reaper. You could have died out there because of me.”

  “Why do you assume they were shooting at you? Maybe that person was after me.”

  She snorted. “Because realtors lead such deadly lives.”

  “What if I’m not a realtor?” he said, creeping closer. “What if I told you I was a renowned assassin, who sells properties as a cover.”

  “I’d say someone has delusions of grandeur. And isn’t being a renowned assassin a bit of an oxymoron? Shouldn’t a killer who lives to a ripe old age be unknown?”