Chapter Five

Holly

Snap out of it, Holly!

No, seriously, I need to snap out of whatever delusion I've fallen into. This is not a normal reaction for someone who had their house broken into. A normal reaction would be to call the cops and come clean about everything, definitely not to house the man in my home.

Or sit in his lap . . . Or let him have his way with me.

Christ, the memory of what happened is eating at me. When Reaper—ridiculous name by the way—pulled me onto his lap, my brain short-circuited. Instead of punching him in the face like a normal person would, I just sat there. No, I did more than that. I rocked my hips against his erection like I was desperate for anything he was willing to give me.

What the hell is wrong with me? I've never done anything like that before. However pathetic I've felt still being a virgin at twenty-four, I don't regret it for a second.

It didn't matter to me that everyone around me was getting it on in high school and then college. I was buried deep in my books, and I used my studies as an excuse to not go out to parties or even date. The truth I was scared to admit to my friends is that I am a hopeless romantic. That I have been waiting for the one.

It's dumb, I know, but I can't help that I was raised by a romantic.

My aunt took me in when my parents found work overseas. It was supposed to be a short arrangement until I could join them later, but as time went by, I grew closer to my aunt, then I refused to leave her behind after the death of her beloved husband. It strained my relationship with my parents, but I had Aunt Meg. She was a hopeless romantic at heart and taught me not to settle for anything less than the great love she'd had with my uncle.

I wanted that.

However unrealistic it seemed out in the real world, I still held hope that I would find my soulmate.

All that waiting and dreaming just to give it up to a strange man called Reaper.

Christ, I must be out of my mind. I must be under some sort of spell or something, because for the last few days, I have been nursing a total stranger, a criminal no less, back to health with little to no thoughts of self-preservation. I don't even know why or how he got shot, and yet, I have not reported him because . . . why?

He's handsome? I have seen better-looking men than him. Okay, that's a lie, but his rugged good looks are not enough to risk losing my license, or worse, going to jail.

So why the hell am I harboring this man in my home?

"Jesus, Holly, are you listening to me?"

My name catches my attention, and I refocus on my phone and the conversation I'd been having with Kate, my shift manager. Kate is the one who gifted me the bottle of wine, and although we met only a few months ago, we've grown closer in the time we've worked together.

"Sorry, did you say something?

"I have been talking for several minutes, were you not listening?"

"Sorry," I say again, my eyes dropping to the book on my lap. I'm sitting on the living room couch, trying to keep my thoughts off the man currently asleep in my bed, but I can't even recall what I'd been trying to read before picking up my phone. I'd called Kate to let her know I wouldn't be able to make it for my shift today. I've never called in sick, but since I'd had yesterday off and worked a double the day before, she didn't question me too much when I said I wasn't feeling well.

"Are you sure you're okay? Do you want me to swing by after my shift?" she asks. "What's up with you anyway?"

"I'm fine," I say, closing the book and setting it aside.

"Holly?"

"I promise you, it's nothing. I think I'm just coming down with something, probably working too much lately."

"Does this something have a dick between his legs?"

I splutter at her words, my eyes widening as my gaze darts to the hall, as if Reaper might have overheard her. "Kate!"

"I know boy trouble when I hear it."

Well, I wouldn't exactly call Reaper a boy. Not with his broad shoulders and muscles that look like they were sculpted by the gods themselves. The man could give Adonis a run for his money with just how perfect every inch of him is.

"I . . . I don't have boy troubles," I defend weakly, when in reality, I have a whole load of trouble. A six-foot-four-inches of trouble with a tongue made to snatch souls from poor unsuspecting women. Can't forget that skilled tongue of his.

"Tell me what's wrong. I know everything about boys."

"And yet you haven't bagged the doctor you've been eyeing," I deadpan.

"Touché," she chuckles. "I'll have you know I am bidding my time. Now about your boy problem."

I bite my lips and contemplate burying my thoughts about Reaper to the furthest corner of my brain, but I can't get the man off my mind. "Have you . . . have you ever been attracted to a patient before?"

"Ew, that's disgusting," she says, causing me to wince. "I'm kidding. I've totally wanted to bang a patient before. Have you seen some of the men that walk into the ER? Ugh, there was this one guy who was built like Thor, looked like him too and everything. He came in for stitches, and all I could do was suffer in silence because anything else would be unethical."

"Oh."

"So, who's the patient you're interested in? Whoever it is, I can assure you that his dick is not worth losing your license for."

"I . . . I don't . . . Never mind."

"Uh, okay," she muses.

"What?" I ask defensively, afraid she can hear the truth in my voice.

"I never pictured you as a rule breaker. Falling for a patient is definitely the last thing I would have expected from you." She would be shocked just how far from grace I have fallen. One touch from the stranger in my bed, and I practically melt into a puddle.

"I don't . . . I would never fall for a patient. I just helped a . . . friend. Someone I met outside of work."

"Well then, that's fine," she says, perking up. "If you met him outside of work, then you're free to ride his dick all you like."

My jaw drops to the floor, and I look around again before lowering my voice to a whisper. "Jesus, Kate. You can't say that."

"Well, you asked." Fair enough, I guess. "Oh, did you hear the news about the men that were found shot at that warehouse? It wasn't far from here, close to your house, I think," she says, changing the subject so fast, it almost gives me whiplash.

It takes a second for her words to sink in, and when they do, I gasp in shock. "W-what?"

"It was probably a gang-related deal gone wrong. The two men were wanted by the police. I am telling you, Austin is going to shit because of these gangs."

I tune her out, my heart beating so hard, I am half terrified I am going into a cardiac arrest. Two men found dead in a warehouse near my house?

No way, right?

It has to be a coincidence. There is no way Reaper is involved, and yet, I can't shake the words he'd said to me.

I am not a good man, Holly.

Christ, this is driving me to madness. I need to tell the cops about Reaper. If he was involved, then . . .

I grab my phone and search for the news story, confirming Kate's words to be true. My stomach flips when I notice the story was released the day after I found Reaper on my bathroom floor. The warehouse isn't far from my house at all, and that sends chills running down my back.

This new information leaves me with a lot of questions, ones I'm still pondering when I hang up with Kate. I can't help the tremble that rocks my body when I walk down the hall toward my room.

Should I confront him about the shooting?

Will he be honest if I do?

Do I even want him to tell me the truth?

"Snap out of it, Holly," I scold myself gently. My concern for this man makes little sense. Sure, we shared something special, a passion I'd never imagined I'd experience, but it changes nothing.

Reaper is a stranger. A man who broke into my house with a concussion and a gunshot wound to his arm and refused to go to the hospital. If that does not scream danger, then I don't know what does.

My bedroom is quiet when I walk in, eerily so. My stomach flips with nerves when I find the bed empty. It is neatly made, and the clothes I'd washed for him are missing from where I'd left them on the top of my dresser. I'd been in the kitchen for a while, then on the phone with Kate for about twenty minutes. My blood is pumping fast in my veins as I walk into the bathroom, but it's empty as well.

I walk back down the hall and check the other rooms, but I come up empty.

He's gone.

The truth settles in my stomach like a heavy bolder as tears spring to my eyes. I should be relieved that the man is gone and that I can now go back to my life without worrying about being found out, but . . .

How could he just leave me without a goodbye? Did he sneak out a window?

"Stop it, Holly. You were about to call him out for possibly killing two men. He's the cop's problem now."

But it's easier said than done.

For the past few days, I have cared for this man without asking for anything in return. I never even threatened to report him, and this is the thanks I get! I want to be mad at him, to kick and yell and rage. It's an irrational feeling, but I want to hate him for up and leaving without so much as a goodbye.

What happens instead is the opposite. Instead of rage, all I feel is a deep sense of loss and loneliness. I've been alone for too long, and this man came into my life when I was feeling the lowest. He gave me something other than my troubles to focus on, and perhaps . . .

Perhaps that's why I didn't report him. It was a selfish reason, and now that he's gone, I'm back to being alone.

I swing around when I hear a noise coming from somewhere in the house. I push back my self-pity and blink back the tears as I look around for the source.

Surely, I won't find another man bleeding out on my bathroom floor, right?

Even so, I grab a flower vase and lift it over my head as I follow the source of the noise, but it's not coming from the bathroom. I listen again, and this time, I catch a sound coming from the garage.

Armed with my flower vase, I walk to the door leading to the garage, then yank it open and rush in, ready to smash it on an intruder's head when my eyes lock on familiar hazel ones. That sinfully sexy gaze trails my body in a slow, measured move and settles on the flower vase raised over my head.

"Hi there, angel."

I'm not sure where to look.

The last thing I expected to see in my garage is a gorgeous, half-naked man dressed in nothing but low-hanging jeans. Reaper is holding a cloth and standing next to a beautiful motorcycle I have never seen in my life.

Has that been here the entire time?

I hardly ever come in here since I stopped driving my aunt's car, so it's entirely possible.

"W-what are you doing?" I ask, my heart still beating hard and fast.

"I was cleaning up my bike and checking for any damage. I didn't exactly have the easiest ride here."

I have to ask him.

Did you do it? Those men found at the warehouse, was that you? Why did you do it?

I want to open my lips and finally get the answers to the questions that have been eating at me, but earlier, when I'd thought he was gone, I couldn't help but long for his presence. I missed him immediately, and these questions could drive him away for good.

"I thought you were gone." It broke my heart.

Reaper drops the cloth on the seat of his bike and approaches me, his eyes heated as he crowds me to the wall. "You think I would just leave without a word after everything you've done for me?"

"I . . . I don't know."

Reaper pins me to the wall, and my stomach flutters as he steps in front of me, the only thing preventing him from pressing flush against me is the flower vase I am clutching to my chest like a lifeline.

"I am a lot of things, Holly. Most of them are not good, but one thing I can assure you is that I am not rogue," he says, grabbing my hand and rubbing his thumb over my wrist. "Fate led me to your door, and I have no plans to leave your life now."

His declaration would have any rational person running in fear. Christ, I can't be in my right mind to find this romantic, but for the life of me, I can't deny the flutter in my stomach, so I try to play it off as if his words did not just send my pulse pounding in my ears.

"H-how are you feeling? Your injury," I say, shifting my eyes from his to the bandage on his arm, but Reaper is not to be ignored as he grabs my chin and tilts it so our gazes are locked on each other.

"I want you to tell me that you understand, angel. That you know I'm here to stay."

I swallow hard and nod at his words, which seems to be all the permission he needs as he slams his mouth down on mine as if to seal his promise, and I open for him. Unlike the first time we kissed, there is no build-up, no teasing, nothing. When our mouths meet, it's carnal, almost feral. The deep growl in his throat and the wet glide of our tongues as we lick into each other's mouths are raw and hungry and . . . real.

This man . . . this moment is real, and I shut everything else out.

"Fuck me, baby," he growls deeply, breathing harshly against my lips as he grabs the vase from my hands and sets it aside, the movement barely penetrating my lust-fogged brain. The next thing I know, his lips are back on mine, and he is lifting me off the floor and into his arms. I wrap my legs around his hips and lift my hands to his shoulders before it occurs to me.

"Reaper, wait, your injury . . ."

"I'm fine," he rasps as he carries me out of the garage and into the house. I scarcely notice our surroundings as he carries me down the hall to my bedroom, too lost in his strong, masculine, intoxicating taste. "Need to be inside of you, angel. I've been going crazy thinking about this . . ."

Me too,and it's at the tip of tongue to admit it, but I stop myself in time. I have already given this man more of myself than I have ever shared with anyone, and the thought of baring my heart to him scares the hell out of me, but . . . he makes me want to.

Reaper makes me want to give him all of me, heart, mind, and soul, but how freaking crazy is that?

". . . Thinking about your sexy little body and these perfect lips," he continues between kisses, his lips brushing my face and moving down to my throat. His open mouth nudges the shell of my ear, his hot breath fanning my sensitive skin as he speaks. "You have no fucking idea how crazy you make me, Holly. I need to be inside of you, pumping my fat cock into your tight little pussy."

"Oh, God!" I whimper as he slowly lowers me down to the bed, his mouth going to my neck, kissing, biting, and licking at the sensitive skin until I am writhing needily beneath him. His lips stay on my skin as he starts stripping off my clothes, tearing my top from my shoulders and rushing to strip off my bra. There is little warning before he's leaning down and sucking my nipple into his mouth.

I cry out as wetness spreads between my legs and a tremble racks my body, need building up rapidly, begging for release.

As though hearing my silent plea, Reaper grabs the waist of my pants and pulls them down along with my panties before tossing them over his shoulder. His lips brush the bridge between my breasts as he lifts slightly to look at me, wetting the seam of his lips as he runs his eyes over my naked body. I fight the urge to hide from being in such a vulnerable position, but having Reaper look at me the way he is—like a predator ready to pounce—settles my nerves a bit.

"No one in their right fucking mind would think to run away from you, angel," he says, running his fingers over my thighs, and a shudder courses through me as he caresses my skin. I suck in a breath when he nudges my thighs apart, running his middle finger over my wet folds. He groans through his teeth when he finds me soaked, practically vibrating for him. "Good thing I found you before anyone else could," he growls roughly, teasing my sex with his finger and sending a rush of wet heat rocking my core. "I don't want anything between us when I claim you, Holly. Going to fuck you and get you pregnant if you're not on the pill."

"No pill," I whimper when his finger grazes my swollen clit.

"Good," he says, lowering his face to kiss my neck and breasts before starting the slow descent down my body. I'm practically shaking on the bed when he finally buries his face between my thighs, inhaling deeply before sweeping his tongue over my folds. I cry out, hips bucking against him, but Reaper gives me no time to recover as his tongue laps at my arousal, sending pleasure springing from the roots of my hair to the tips of my toes.

It"s . . . wild.

His tongue and the rough noises he makes at the back of his throat as he kisses my most intimate parts are wild. The way he seals his lips over my swollen bud, kissing and sucking it, makes me do things I never imagined my body could do, and I am a freaking nurse. Knowing about bodies is my job, and yet, this is not something they taught in nursing school.

Until now, I never learned how weak my knees would grow when my clitoris was sucked or how many of my brain cells would melt when the sensitive bundle of nerves was teased endlessly by a perfect tongue. No, there was nothing on any syllabus about how loud I would scream or how hard my fingers would grip the bedsheets when a stiffened tongue flicked quickly over my clitoris.

"Fuck," I sob as he drives me to the edge, and when Reaper pushes a finger slowly into my opening, my back arches at the sensation. He starts working his finger in and out of me slowly as his tongue moves fast over my clit, drawing a wretched sob from my throat.

Pleasure shoots through my body when his mouth again closes tight around the sensitive bud, making stars burst behind my eyes lids. He tugs gently at the bud before adding pressure, causing my body to jerk on the bed. My muscles seize, and a scream builds up in my throat a second before I come apart.

Reaper laps at my sex as an intense, delicious tug sweeps down my spine, and I feel it in every inch of my body. I was under the illusion that what happened before was the highest possible peak of pleasure, but Reaper has just proven to me that he can drive me further up the cliff and bring me to a height unlike anything I could have imagined before pushing me over the edge.

My mind is sluggish, and I struggle to regain focus as he pushes away from me and climbs off the bed. He strips off his jeans, and soon, his deliciously muscled, naked body is on top of mine, making me feel warm and protected.

Definitely not alone.

I want to wrap my arms around him and keep him right here for all eternity, but I can only muster enough strength to grab his shoulders, and when his mouth comes down on mine, all I can think is . . . finally.

All those years of waiting have led to this moment, and even if it's nothing close to how I imagined my first time, it's everything I need and so much more.