Page 25 of Razor

“Commando or do you mind wet clothes?”

Fuck!

My blood burns a trail through my entire body, and I hitch my breath and whisper, “Commando.”

The sudden burst of lust in his expression matches my own, and as I stand, I shimmy out of my shorts and pull the tank over my head. Leaving me in nothing but my lace panties and bra.

His expression darkens, and he stands, towering over me as he pulls off his shorts. Fuck me, he really is commando under there.

With a wicked gleam in his eye, he reaches out and scoops me into his arms. As we hit the water, I gasp for air because, fuck me, that’s cold.

I’m grateful for his strong arms as he holds me carefully, my head above water, my arms clinging to him like a lifesaving device.

Now we are closer than we have ever been, and it’s a lot. I never appreciated the sheer size and strength of the man before, but now I’m kind of up close and personal, it’s like David and Goliath. I doubt he was kidding when he said he could wrestle an alligator. You could probably add in most of the animal kingdom as well, and I include lions in that.

I’m grateful that he isn’t letting me go and as we tread water, my face is inches from his strong chest and as I catch my breath,I’m conscious of his hands on my bare skin, his chest rising and falling against mine.

It’s not awkward, not even close, and I wonder about that.

“I can let you go if you want to swim.”

The deep rumble of words from his throat is comforting, and I shake my head. “I’m good, thanks.”

As I lift my eyes, I experience the full force of his attention, and it takes my breath away far more effectively than the cool hit of the water.

“You’re a pretty woman, Sunday.”

His compliment takes me by surprise, and my smile is a genuine one as I whisper, “You’re a striking man, Razor. I’m guessing you get told that a lot.”

“No.”

His gaze burns; it’s sexy as fuck, and his hold tightens as I edge closer.

“So–” I breathe a little faster. “Um, I’m kind of new in town and I was wondering how things work around here.”

He says nothing, his eyes gleaming in the shadows, and I hesitate. “I mean, Britney told me the Reapers kind of like, well, the women, and well–”

I falter because what the hell am I attempting to say, and his brow furrows, his expression brooding.

“If you’re asking if you’re expected to follow the other girl’s example and fuck a Reaper, you’re not.”

“Wow, tell it to me straight.”

I’m slightly shocked, and his sudden grin catches me off-guard.

“You’re here for protection, and that includes from us. The decision is yours and yours alone. If you like someone, nobody will judge you if you want to explore that connection, and nobody will hold you to it. You’re a free woman here, Sunday.It’s probably one of the few places I know where that means total freedom with no repercussions.”

“I see.”

I chew on my bottom lip, and his gaze darkens. His hold tightens and I shift even closer.

“What about you, Razor? Do you indulge in your freedom here?”

I wonder where this bravery is coming from, and I’m glad of the darkness because I must be blushing like fury right now.

“Yes.”

Why do I hate that answer?