Page 105 of Reaper's Claim

“My name’s Cody Marks, as in Mark Flets. My favorite color is blue, and I have a dog called Cobber.” He gave me a challenging smirk, “Now you know more about me than most of the people I see every day.”

Chewing my bottom lip, I came to a stop and leaned over into the car.

“I’m not a hooker.”

“I wasn’t asking for an hourly rate.”

“I don’t have money to give you for fuel.”

“Did you miss the part where I said I was Cody Marks?”

Of course I knew who Cody Marks was, but I found it hard to believe he was offering me a lift.

“The whole problem with you giving me a lift is I don’t know where I am going.”

He leaned over closer to me “Then it doesn’t really matter where you end up, does it?”

He had a point, and by that challenging, charming grin, he knew he had the upper hand.

“Fine. But if your hand comes over to my side of the car, I’m cutting it off.”

He laughed, popping the locks and letting me in.

I wasn’t sure if I was making a bad decision or not, but when I look back at my track record…

Chapter 41

Abby

Whether it was the heat from the jacuzzi or the expensive cider I was drinking, I was sure that this was what heaven was like.

“Chocolate strawberries be alright?” Cody stepped off the porch. His smirk teased me, “I guess you will just have to suck the chocolate off.”

I ran my tongue across my bottom lip and tilted my head slightly, “Is that so?”

He shrugged his shoulders while he stalked over to me, giving me a very long and nice view of his chiseled muscles.

“Who knew you were so toned under that jumper earlier?” When I first met him, all I took in was his frustrated glare, which was fair enough because I was blocking his driveway.

“Who thought that the girl crying at the end of my driveway blocking me from a boring meeting would be the highlight of my night?” He poured me another cider, and my hand shot out through the bubbles to take it.

“And here I was thinking I was going to spend the night in a gutter drinking some bad-tasting scotch.”

It did turn out Cody Marks wasn’t a serial killer or anything that his reputation was.

Sure, he had the bad boy image down pat. Tattoos, scars, upper body strength and that cocky grin, which just oozed bad boy.

So like the young hormonal, angry teenager I was, things continued to snowball until I was in my underwear in his jacuzzi.

Screw the tattooed, controlling bikers. What was wrong with an old school gangsta?

“You’re thinking too much, darling.” He dropped to his knees in front of me, his eyes locked on mine. “Wanna tell me who made that beautiful cheek of yours bruised?”

It was so twisted I wasn’t even sure if I had deserved it or not. God, I must look like a mess to Cody; one broken wrist and a bruised face.

“Do you know that saying,” I swam to his corner, pulling myself up to the curb. “If you play with fire, you get burnt?”

He scoffed. “Everyone knows that one.”

---