Reaper's Stand(47)

I shook my head quickly, relatively certain that “havin’ a problem with that” wasn’t really a solid option at this point.

“Great. Let’s get started.”

Then he kissed me, and not in a laid-back kind of way. His mouth took possession, head slanting as his tongue pushed in. It wasn’t a seductive kiss, or even a comfortable one. Nope, this was his body telling mine we had unfinished business. I didn’t even notice I’d spread my legs for him until he pulled away long enough to slide on a fresh condom. Then he was deep inside, claiming and conquering me yet again.

Turns out you can improve on phenomenal. Go figure.

Half an hour later, when Reese gave me another kiss, it was a quick peck through my van window.

“Sure you don’t want someone keeping an eye on your house? If her daddy’s a mean drunk, might not be a bad idea.”

I shook my head, which jiggled my chest. He’d destroyed my bra, unfortunately—and I was a big enough girl that going bra-less wasn’t the best of options.

“Mel’s spent at least two nights a week at my place for the past three years. Not sure what the long-term plan will be, but I’ll get her set up. Unlike Jessica, she’s got a job and she’s planning to start classes at NIC in August. They’ve got student housing.”

He smiled at me, reaching out and tucking a strand of my bright red hair behind my ear.

“You know, this is sexy as f*ck,” he said. “But you were gorgeous as a blonde, too.”


“Thanks,” I whispered. Then I pulled away and turned the key in my ignition.

The starter turned over, but the engine didn’t catch.

I frowned, and tried again. “It’s not starting.”

“Your check engine light is on.”

“I know,” I said absently. I pushed on the gas pedal and tried again. The starter whined in protest. “It goes on and off all the time.”

“Sweetheart, you do realize that when the check engine light comes on, you’re supposed to check the engine, right?”

I shot him the Look of Death, and he laughed.

“Want a ride back to your place?” he asked. “I can figure this out for you, but I’m thinkin’ if you want to be with your girl while she’s all upset, now isn’t the time to start tearing apart your rig.”

I closed my eyes and sighed.

“Thank you,” I said. “That would be great. I can’t believe it’s not working. What am I going to do about picking up Jess tomorrow? Shit, now I’ll have to rent something and it’ll be a fortune and—”

“London. Honey. Settle the f*ck down. One of the perks of datin’ a man who owns a repair shop is that shit like this is no longer a crisis. I’ll find something for you to borrow while I take care of it, okay? Now get your ass out of there and over to my bike. I’m takin’ you home.”

He pulled the door open and I stepped out. He held out his hand.

“What?”

“Keys, babe. Gonna need keys if you want me to fix your car.”

“Don’t fix anything without checking with me first,” I said, my voice serious. “If it’s really bad, I may need to go out and find something new. This van is nearly twelve years old, not sure how much life she has left in her.”

“Keys?”

I pulled off the van key, which I kept on a little dealie that snapped off my main keychain for situations exactly like this one.

“Great. Now get your ass on the bike.”

I stepped toward the big Harley, which was black and silver, with the Reapers symbol painted on the gas tank. The seats were black leather, the chrome was shiny, and the whole thing looked ginormous now that I was actually standing right next to it. Hayes handed me a helmet. I studied it, bemused. It’d been a strange day and now it was getting stranger—the president of a motorcycle club was giving me a ride home.

After f*cking me.

And he planned to f*ck me some more.

Wow.

It took everything I had to bite back a little squee of excitement, because there’s not a woman on earth who doesn’t secretly want to ride off into the sunset with a bad man on a bike … Especially after having excellent sex with that man.

I glanced up at the sky. Sure enough, it was streaked with pinks and blues and gorgeous clouds, glowing as the very last of the day’s sunlight kissed the north Idaho mountains.

“It goes on your head.”

I blinked, confused.

“The helmet,” Reese said, slowly and distinctly. “It goes on your head.”

Then he smiled at me and I think I might have blushed, which is kind of crazy considering I’m thirty-eight and well past the blushing years.

“Where do you go when you drift off like that?” he asked. I laughed and gave a shrug.

“Everywhere, I guess. I’ve always done it. Used to get in big trouble at school for it, because they thought I was ignoring them on purpose. But things just catch my imagination and then I’m off. I’m sorry—I wasn’t trying to be rude.”

“Doesn’t bother me,” he said. “Just curious. Let’s go make sure your girl Mellie is all right. Come mornin’ I’ll get one of the boys to run a car over for you.”

“Thank you,” I said, wondering if any of this was real.