Deadly Match

by Eve Langlais

  “They don’t know me by my real name.”

  “I would have thought that was more out of embarrassment.”

  “Are you mocking the fine names my parents gave me?” he growled in mock indignation.

  “Yes.”

  He pounced on her, swept her into his arms, and nuzzled her neck with his beard until she squealed, “Mercy.”

  “Say it.”

  “Say what?”

  “That it’s a fine name.”

  “It’s a great name.” Snicker.

  “Glad you think so since I’m planning to call my first-born son Charming Reaper Montgomery the second.” Yes, he said the words my son. With Annie, he could picture it happening.

  “And who is the crazy woman agreeing to that?”

  “The one getting naked to climb into the tub with me.”

  “Me?” Her mouth rounded into an O of surprise.

  It turned into a shriek as he deposited her, clothes and all, into the water.

  “Reaper! I was still dressed.”

  “I told you to strip. Guess you should have listened,” he said as he joined her. The addition of his body caused waves in the tub that lapped the high edges.

  She glared at him, but not in anger. He could see the smile lurking at the corners of her lips.

  “Need some help taking those wet things off?”

  “You’ve done enough, thank you.” Eschewing his help, she proceeded to strip, and it was punishment. Seeing her exposing that luscious skin. Unable to touch it.

  When she was finally naked, she faced him and winked. “Ever done it in a Jacuzzi before?”

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  She laughed and squealed as Reaper reached over and hauled her onto his lap. Funny how he had a way of making things fade into the background.

  The attack on the hill already seemed like a distant nightmare. She knew she’d have to deal with it.

  Soon. But first, she wanted one more night with Reaper. More of the bliss to carry her over for when she left and started anew.

  His callused hands caressed her body, sliding over her skin, slick and slippery. She squirmed, the buoyant water making it easy for her to move on his lap, teasing his erection. He groaned.

  A deep groan. He was also quite hard for her. It was nice to be wanted.

  “You’re a naughty woman, Annie.”

  “Only when inspired.” She turned to fully straddle him, pinning his cock under her, looping her arms around his neck.

  “You drive me crazy.”

  “Ditto.” She cocked her head. “Apparently, you were right. We are compatible.”

  He laughed. “Maybe I’m the one who should be running your company.”

  “And have all the female clients panting after you?” she scowled. “Not happening.”

  “Is that jealousy I detect?”

  No point in lying or hiding it. Not with so little time left to them. “I’m not into sharing.”

  “Neither am I.” He rubbed his nose against hers. “Wanna be selfish together?”

  “Depends. Does selfish mean I can’t give you pleasure?”

  He growled. “It’s not selfish if I am pleasuring you right back.”

  “Good point. Speaking of which, when does the pleasuring start?”

  His lips caught hers, turning her simmering arousal into full-blown passion. She bounced on him, teasing him, their mouths tightly meshed. His hands roamed her sensitized skin, bringing about shivers, and a tremor centered between her legs.

  Pulling away from him, she leaned back and presented her breasts. A dewy offering that he took heed of. He cupped her mounds, and his thumb ran over her puckered nipples.

  A soft moan escaped her, and she squirmed. Writhed and felt him hard and rigid against her. It would be so easy to shift and take him inside.

  “Not so quick, honey.” He wouldn’t let her take what she wanted. “I’m not done playing.”

  He leaned forward and cradled her back that he might have better access to her breasts. He licked the tip of one.

  Annie shuddered, and it led to more licking. Touching. Sucking.

  His hands disappeared under the water and stroked her. Rubbed across her skin, teasing the fullness of her cheeks, tormented her by dipping lower, just barely skimming the edges of her sex.

  Heat coiled inside her, and she shifted on his lap, looking for relief.

  “Is this what you’re looking for?” he asked, teasing her with the tip of his finger.

  She mewled, and he slid it between her lips, right up to a knuckle.

  Did he feel her channel pulsing? Did he feel her need?

  She bounced on his finger a few times, driving it deeper, drawing a moan from him finally.

  “Annie.” He practically sighed her name.

  “I need you,” she whispered.

  “Not as much as I need you,” he growled. Sliding her to the side, he stood in the tub, a dripping god that only served to make her hotter.

  He grabbed a towel and wrapped it around his waist before he offered her a hand to get out of the tub. A fluffy bath sheet was wrapped around her body, soaking up some of the moisture, but not the wetness between her legs.

  He dragged her close for a kiss, a long, sweet embrace that she felt down to her curling toes. Their bodies pressed, and yet the terry cloth between them prevented her from having the full effect of his skin on hers.

  Screw that. She didn’t want to miss a single moment of touching. She tugged at his sarong, letting it drop to the floor, along with her damp towel. She pressed her nude body against his, loving the friction of his skin against hers.

  Standing on tiptoe, she rubbed her cheek against his soft beard before letting her lips trail down the side of his neck. His heart beat fast, the pulse a rapid flutter at the base that she kissed.

  She kept up her exploration, placing her hands flat against his bare, muscular chest, the soft fur of it enough to rake her fingers through.

  It was salt and pepper like the rest of him. A hot silver fox for her to stroke. He shuddered as her lips approached his nipples. He uttered a sound when she nipped one.

  His hands, which loosely caressed her, turned rigid. Grabbing her firmly by the waist, he lifted her for a torrid kiss as he carried her the few paces to the bed.

  He dropped her onto the mattress, and she squeaked. She almost giggled, too, until she caught the frenzied look in his eyes.

  No hiding his desire. He wanted her.

  She wanted him.

  Positioning herself on her knees, she beckoned him.

  He drew close, and she lifted her arms to grab him around the neck and tug him down on the bed with her. Beside her, because then she could straddle his waist and tease them both.

  His shaft bobbed hot and hard against her ass while her moist sex pressed against him. Could he feel it pulsing?

  Leaning forward, she licked around his nipples before nipping them and sucking. He gripped her cheeks, his fingers digging into her soft flesh while she played.

  And teased…

  She angled her body enough that her slick cunt rubbed against his cock, wetting it with her honey, teasing him with what was to come.

  “Annie.” The word emerged tortured.

  Perfect.

  A slight lift of her hips and his cock bounced under her. Lowering herself just a bit, the tip of him nudged her. She dropped down a little farther, and the head of his shaft penetrated her lips.

  She stopped; he growled.

  It was a sexy sound.

  She wiggled down a bit more, taking him into her slowly, enjoying the stretch as he filled her completely.

  When she was fully seated, the hard length of him pulsing inside, she paused, eyes closed, head back, one hand braced on his taut stomach.

  “Look at me,” he demanded.

  She opened her eyes and saw him staring at her, his features flushed, his eyes stormy with desire.

  Holding his gaze, she began to rock and saw his jaw clench. His nostril
s flare. His hands gripped her around the waist.

  The rocking put pressure on her clit—intensely sweet pressure. She leaned forward and kissed him, still grinding and pushing against his cock.

  His hips shifted, changing the angle. Annie gasped and sat upright, hands splayed on his chest.

  “Look at me.”

  She’d not even known she closed her eyes, lost in the pleasure. She stared at him while matching his rhythm, lifting and lowering herself on his shaft. His hands helped when she would have faltered. The hard length of him slid in and out, deep thrusts that caused a jolt each time.

  The pace quickened, their rocking motion in rhythm, their bodies moving as one. It was beautiful.

  Intense.

  With a cry, Annie came. Waves of pleasure rippled through her, fisting his cock. Reaper bucked wildly underneath, calling out her name as he also came.

  Came pulsing hot, and without anything between them.

  She should have been appalled.

  She wasn’t. Even kind of hoped something would take root because, as he carried her from the bed, swathed in the comforter, and cuddled her by the fire, she could finally admit to herself she loved him.

  Loved him, yet would leave him on Christmas morning. Ensuring that he lived and didn’t get drawn into her nightmare would be her present to him.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Reaper could almost taste the melancholy surrounding Annie. Each motion, each kiss possessed a frantic quality. He knew what she thought, could see it on her face.

  She’s going to run.

  And short of tying her down, he didn’t know how to stop it.

  You know what you have to do.

  Tell her the truth.

  Because explaining he was really a killer—a mostly retired one, but still a killer—would be so much more reassuring than having someone shooting at them.

  At least she’d know I could protect her.

  Yet what if he was the one bringing danger into her life?

  “This is nice,” she said with a sigh, making him almost feel bad he’d dumped her on the rug.

  As she rolled over with a grumble and glare, he went for his luggage.

  “What are you looking for?” she asked, making no attempt to hide the fact that she ogled him.

  He’d never known how much he would enjoy being ogled.

  “It’s midnight.” He stuck his hand deep and rummaged around until his fingers touched it. He pulled out the small, wrapped gift. The first present he’d ever gotten a woman.

  She took it with trembling hands. “You shouldn’t have.”

  “I wanted to.” He truly did. He’d never understood the concept of giving gifts at Christmas before. Why not just go out and buy what you need when you needed it?

  However, in that moment, when he saw her eyes light up upon opening the box, he felt a deep sense of satisfaction. He’d put that smile on her face. He’d done something thoughtful, and she appreciated it.

  “It’s beautiful,” she said softly.

  No, she was beautiful. He’d merely gotten her a trinket to showcase that beauty.

  It also made her laugh. “I can’t believe you found this.” A locket in the shape of lips, exaggerated to look like a heart, just like her company logo. On the back, engraved as if he were a teenager, C.R.M. + A. D.

  “Let me put it on.” He draped it around her neck, and she sprang from the rug to peek at it in the mirror over the dresser.

  She laughed. “It’s so perfect.”

  If it was perfect, then why did she frown?

  “What’s wrong?”

  She turned to face him. “I didn’t get you anything. I didn’t have time.” Her shoulders slumped, and he rose to join her.

  “Are you kidding? You gave me the thing I’ve been looking for.”

  Her gaze sought his. “Sex?”

  “I would have said a perfect match.”

  Who knew those words would have her throw herself at him, kissing him, devouring his mouth, then taking his body.

  She made him crazy happy. She also made him a little stupid. How else to explain how someone made it into their room almost without waking him?

  Good thing he slept with a gun under his pillow. He had it out, aimed, and ready to fire when Annie yelled, “Don’t shoot my sister!”

  Totally unexpected.

  Especially since the woman he held at gunpoint was the one who’d almost killed him this time last year.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Annique blinked at her sister. Of all the rotten timing. “What are you doing here?”

  “Wishing you a merry Christmas?”

  That earned Jazzy a glare. “I haven’t heard from you in two years.”

  “I was busy.”

  “Too busy to let me know you were alive?” Annique snapped.

  As she ripped into her sister, Reaper watched them, gun still in hand but pointed at the floor.

  “So you’re related?” he managed to finally squeeze in.

  “According to our parents. Reaper, meet my sister, Jazzy, short for Jasmine.”

  “Reaper?” Jazzy snorted. “Don’t tell me he’s got you calling him that.”

  “It’s better than Charming.”

  At that, Jazzy’s eyes rounded. “So that’s what the C.R. stands for.”

  “How would you know what his name is?” Annique narrowed her gaze on her sibling.

  “Yeah, explain how you know,” was his sarcastic addition, which earned him an elbow to the ribs.

  “You”—Annique jabbed a finger in his direction—“shut it and put the gun away. No one is shooting anyone today. Unless it’s me doing the shooting on account that you’re both dicking me around.”

  “He’s the one being a dick,” Jazzy muttered with a glare in his direction. “I’m just trying to be a good sister.”

  “A good sister doesn’t wait years to let me know she’s still alive. Nor does she show up unexpectedly while I’m on a romantic getaway.”

  “Is that what he’s calling this?” Jazzy snorted.

  “Did you use your connections at work to spy on us?”

  “So what if I did? I’m allowed to keep tabs on my sister.”

  “How about you try picking up a phone instead, or sending a text? You know, Not dead. Thinking of you.”

  “I’ve been busy.”

  “Whatever. How about you explain exactly why are you here, and don’t feed me a line about reconnecting on Christmas. No one knew we were here, and yet here you magically appear.”

  Jazzy’s chin tilted. “For your information, I was here first, setting a trap.” She shot a glare at Reaper, one Annique didn’t understand. An undercurrent laced every word, and she felt as if she’d missed something important.

  “Why do I get the impression you know each other?”

  “I don’t know him,” Jazzy was quick to retort.

  Whereas, Reaper shook his head. “We do, of a sort. We met through work,” was his short explanation.

  “Work?” That deepened her frown. “Since when does your work”—and, yeah, Annique said it as if it had finger quotes—“need real estate?” Because last she’d heard, Jazzy was working for the CIA, hence the reason she couldn’t stay in touch easily. Undercover missions and stuff.

  “What the hell are you talking about? What real estate?”

  “She’s talking about the fact that I work for Bad Boy Inc. realty.”

  “I know you do. I know all about you, Reaper.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” Annique asked.

  As Jazzy stared at her, her eyes widened. “I don’t believe this. She doesn’t fucking know?” Jazzy said the words to Reaper, not Annique. The mystery thickened, and she didn’t like it at all. “Did you bring her here as bait to draw me out?”

  He shook his head. “Bait would imply I knew who you were and that you were related. Annie is here for other reasons.”

  “Hold on a second.” Annique waved a hand as she focused on a key p
oint. “So you lied. You had no idea I was here.”

  Jazzy shrugged. “No.”

  “And yet you knew Reaper was? Expected him. Does he know what you are?”

  “I’d say he has a good idea.”

  Annique glared at Jazzy. “What happened to keeping your job under wraps?” How many times had Jazzy told her no one could know what she did?

  “It is still a secret.”

  “A pretty big fucking secret.”

  “Shut up.” Jazzy glared at Reaper. “Qiqi understands why I have to stay on the down low. You know, what with being CIA and all.”

  He burst out laughing. “Is that your cover? And she believes that?”

  “Believes it because it’s true,” Jazzy said quite vehemently. “Just doing my part for my country.”

  “Bullshit. I might not know exactly who you are in the grand scheme of things, but I know you’re not CIA.”

  “I could be. I’ve done jobs for them.”

  “So have I. I’ll be damned, you’re just like me,” he snickered.

  “I don’t see why you’re smirking. Have you told her yet who and what you are?”

  “He’s a realtor. Isn’t he?” Annique’s gaze bounced between them, and she noted his tight expression. “What’s she talking about?” What was Reaper hiding from her?

  “Nothing,” he muttered.

  “Go ahead and tell her,” Jazzy cajoled. “Tell her that the man she is sleeping with is a professional hitman.”

  “He’s a what?” Annique turned wide eyes on him. “That can’t be true.” Not the man who touched her so tenderly.

  The one who seemed awfully quick to pull a gun.

  Not the man who gave her a thoughtful locket.

  Who handled violence without a qualm.

  Not the man she loved.

  A man who didn’t deny the claim. “Hitman sounds so cliché. We prefer the term exterminator for hire.”

  Jazzy snorted. “Except you kill people, not rats.”

  “You’re a killer!” Annique shrieked.

  “I used to be,” he amended. “I’m mostly retired now.”

  “Retired from killing people?” Even saying the words made her lightheaded.