Page 36 of Reaper’s Wrath

“Going to bed.”

“You’re not sleeping on the floor.”

“Why not?”

“Because I’m not sleeping on the floor.”

“I never said you had to sleep with me.” My tone is snippier than I intend.

“Get the fuck into bed, Isa. I won’t tell you again.”

God, why does he get under my skin the way he does? I should not be provoking the man with a penchant for violence, yet I can’t help myself.

I get back on the bed, glaring at him the entire time. I don’t get under the covers. Instead, I curl up on the edge of the bed facing away from him. “You could just lock me in a room by myself.”

“I know how easily people disappear. I’m not letting you out of my sight for that long.”

I feel him rise from the bed but refuse to look over my shoulder to see what he’s up to. From the sound of it, he went to the closet, then quickly returns.

“Give me your hand,” he orders firmly.

“Why?”

His hand smacks my ass cheek. “Wrong answer.”

I still have on the joggers, so it doesn’t hurt, but it’s enough to shock me into motion. I flip around to face him and glare daggers. “I’m not afraid of you, Elio.”

I don’t know where the challenge comes from. Some deeply unhinged part of my psyche, no doubt. And once it’s out, there’s no taking it back.

Elio kneels beside me, wicked delight gleaming in his eyes. “You should be.” In an instant, his body is straddled over mine, his hands pinning mine to the mattress next to my head.

A fissure of fear skitters down my spine while heat simultaneously pools in my center. The sight of his coiled muscles straining over me is captivating. Such controlled power. Such explosive strength tempered with tenderness.

His touch never threatens to bruise.

Once he’s certain I can’t get out from beneath him, he grabs a pair of cuffs he must have brought from the closet. Again, electric anticipation tingles in all my nerve endings as I watch him strap a leather cuff to my right wrist. It’s connected to a second cuff by about eighteen inches of chain.

He secures that cuff to himself. All the while, his eyes are boring into mine.

My lungs forget how to function.

Pressing his hands flat on the bed, he lowers his face close to mine until we are nearly cheek to cheek. “Sleep tight. Don’t let the bed bugs bite.” He snaps his teeth together for emphasis, then runs the bridge of his nose along my neck on a deep inhale.

My back arches with a need I can’t suppress.

When he returns upright, his boxer briefs are tented with an enormous erection. Reality crashes over me. Every doubt and insecurity I’ve ever had rains down on me while an insidious voice in my head hisses a reminder that I don’t know what I’m doing. I’ve never even had sex before.

I’m a thirty-seven-year-old virgin, and this horse of a man could easily rip me in two.

What the hell have I been thinking?

I’ve been playing with fire like I know what I’m doing, and I’m going to end up burned beyond recognition.

I breathe a tiny sigh of relief when he moves off me, though I’m forced to follow and lie closer to him than I’d like now that we’re cuffed together. I hold firm, however, about the covers and refuse to get beneath them. Elio may stir feelings in me that I never knew I had, but I’m not serving myself up on a platter.

He is a murderer, and I am his captive.

Some lines are not meant to be crossed no matter how tempting.