Reaper's Fall (Reapers MC, #5)(44)

He stilled, eyes crawling over Mel as I realized she’d lost the bra when she’d fallen.

“Nice artwork,” he said, grinning broadly. “But I think you missed a couple spots.”

I wrapped an arm across Mel’s chest, doing my best to cover her up. She gave a shriek. Then she was breaking free, running out the door to her bedroom as Jessica launched herself at me, smacking at my face while Taz laughed his ass off.

“You aren’t allowed to touch her,” Jess shrieked. I raised a hand to protect my eyes, wondering how the hell I’d ever considered this girl sexy enough for a drunken one-night stand. Could you even call it that? It’d been a partial, and a shitty partial at that.

“Get your woman off me,” I yelled at Taz, who laughed harder. Finally I managed to shake off the screaming banshee queen, shoving her toward Taz so I could go after Mel.

“I’ll kill you!” Jessica yelled behind me. Fucking witch. First Kit, now her. I was surrounded by devil women. Mel’s door was slammed shut, and I could hear her sobbing.

Fucking hell.

I’d broken her already, and I hadn’t even gotten laid first.


MELANIE

I lay back on my bed, laughing so hard it actually hurt. God, the look on Jessica’s face. The crazy hypocrisy and weirdness and the way I’d dropped my bra . . . it was all too much. And about time I freaked her out, too. She’d been freaking me out for years.

“Mel, are you okay?” Painter asked, knocking on my door. I gasped, trying to catch my breath to answer. It came out on a sob, and every time I tried to tell him I was fine, the words ate themselves and I would start laughing again.

Finally he pushed his way through the door, dropping down on the futon next to me to pull me into his arms. Then he rolled me on top, wrapping his body around mine.

“Hey, it’s okay,” he whispered, sounding all sweet and tender. I snorted, still incapable of catching my breath. “Mellie, it doesn’t matter what he saw. You’re okay.”

I clutched at his leather cut, pushing my head up so I could see him.

“I’m fine,” I gasped, although I was pretty sure there were tears running down my face, probably all mixed with paint. Attractive. His hands rubbed up and down my back, and my legs fell to either side of his hips. Oh hell. I could feel him there—exactly where I needed him—and he was longer and harder than any man had a right to be.

“I’m fine,” I repeated, sniffing. “I was laughing, Painter, not crying. It was just so funny. The look on Jessica’s face. You’d think she’d caught us screwing on her bed. And for the record, I’ve caught her having sex on my bed twice before, so she’d have no right to complain even if we had been . . .”

My voice trailed off as one of his hands dug into my ass, pulling me hard into his pelvis.

“You were laughing?” he asked very carefully.

“Yeah. It was funny. Didn’t you think it was funny?”

A slow grin started to steal across his face, and then he shook his head. “Well, yeah. But girls don’t usually laugh about shit like that.”

I smiled, letting my face drop against his chest.

“I’m not most girls.”

The leather of his club colors was rough against my nipples, and I thought about the look on Taz’s face as he took me in. Appreciation, although not in a creepy way. Felt kind of good, actually. Now I had those unpainted sections he’d so helpfully pointed out pushed up against Painter’s chest. Okay, I hadn’t exactly forgotten . . . but suddenly I was more aware of how my breasts felt rubbing against the fabric and leather covering his body. Then Painter’s hands found my ass, gripping it and giving a squeeze, sending thrills running through me.

“You know, Taz was right about one thing,” he said softly.

“What’s that?” I whispered, feeling the spell fall over us again.

“I really should’ve gotten the bra off you earlier—I’d have loved to paint these tits of yours.”

That set me off laughing again.

“You’re quite the smooth talker, aren’t you?” I managed to gasp out. Painter shrugged, grinning at me.

“Never pretended to be,” he said. I felt him rub up and along my back, and then his hand was in my hair, catching me and pulling me down hard for a kiss. I opened to him, savoring the feel of his tongue sliding along mine.

There’d been a slow fire building in me all night . . . every brushstroke had been sweet torture, and now that fire exploded. My hips shifted as I found myself grinding slowly against him. His big hand cupped me tighter as one knee rose, thrusting his thigh between mine.

Suddenly he broke free from the kiss, gasping and staring at me.

“You really wanna do this?” he asked, his words offering me an escape even as his hands held me prisoner. I smiled down at him.

“Don’t you?”

He gave a short laugh, fingers tightening on my rear. His cock dug obscenely into my stomach.

“This could f*ck up our friendship,” he whispered.

“Our friendship’s already f*cked,” I reminded him. “There’s no good reason for us to be together, you know. We have nothing in common, different life paths . . . Nothing makes sense, yet it works. Why not enjoy it?”

He nodded slowly, then his mouth took mine again.