Page 35 of Reaper
The cold air hits my skin, but it's immediately eclipsed by the heat radiating off his body.
I'm standing in a sports bra and wet denim, shivering uncontrollably. The air in the small cave is thick with the smell of woodsmoke, rain, and the raw, heavy tension that has been building between us for seventy-two hours.
"Come here."
He doesn't wait for an answer. He pulls me against his bare chest and wraps his arms around me.
The shock of his body heat is overwhelming. It sinks into my freezing skin, overriding the cold, overriding the exhaustion. I press my face into the curve of his neck, wrapping my arms around his waist. He feels like iron and fire.
The shivering begins to subside, replaced by a different kind of trembling.
He slides his hands down my bare back, pulling me flush against him. The physical contact is absolute. There is no space left between us. No safe house. No tactical briefing. No Frost standing on the other side of a door.
Just the cave, the fire, and the man who took apart my entire world.
"You're shaking." His voice is a rough scrape against my ear.
"Not from the cold."
His hands tighten on my back. He pulls back just enough to look at me. The firelight catches the raw, unguarded hunger in his eyes.
"Addy." It's a warning.
I reach up and trace the line of his jaw. "You said you take care of me."
A muscle feathers in his cheek. The last thread of his control snaps.
He backs me into the stone wall of the cave, his mouth coming down on mine with punishing, desperate heat.
ELEVEN
The Heat
ADDY
The stone bites into my spine.
It doesn't matter. The crushing, desperate heat of his mouth overrides the cold rock, overrides the shivering, overrides every rational thought left in my brain.
Wyatt kisses me like a starving man. His hands bracket my head, his fingers tangling in my wet hair, anchoring me against the wall while he takes exactly what he wants.
I open my mouth for him, pulling him closer, my fingers digging into the hard, scarred muscle of his back.
He groans, a dark, fractured sound that vibrates against my lips.
Three days of stepping around each other in the safe house. Three days of watching him sleep on the floor. Three days of the terrible, electric tension stretching tighter and tighter until the storm finally broke it.
His hands drop to my waist, finding the heavy metal button of my jeans.
"The drive." My voice is a ragged gasp against his throat.
Wyatt pauses for half a second. He strips the heavy, soaked denim down my hips, taking the wet material and the hardshell drive out of the equation entirely. He tosses the jeans near the fire, away from the damp entrance of the cave. My boots follow.
Then his hands are back on me.
Bare skin. The shock of his body heat is absolute.
I gasp, arching up into him. His hands grip the backs of my thighs, lifting me clean off the ground.
