Page 43 of Resurfaced Passion

“Your apartment doesn’t have the pain pills I need. Follow me, okay?”

She frowned. “What’s wrong?”

“Headache.”

“You go on, Reaper. I can get myself home. Thank you, really. You were my hero.”

“No. Follow me. I want you with me.” And then. “That piece of shit might know where you live.” Oh, okay. That made more sense. Her hope deflated a little.

Looking closer at Reaper, she noted he had strain around his eyes, and he was clenching his teeth. He was in pain. “Okay.” She agreed, just to get him home and to his pills. “Is it far?”

“Not far. Climb in, Paige.” He waited until she was behind the wheel and the engine switched on before he strode back up the street to throw a leg over his bike. God, that was hot as hell, she could watch that exact move all night long and then have a few orgasms over it later.

Pictures of Reaper, dressed differently and with his hair tied in a knot at the back of his nape, flooded through her mind in a series of flicks, but it wasn’t the same image she was looking at. Soon as they were there, they disappeared.

Weird.

It made her feel funny, fingers tingling, and the fine hairs on her arm all lifted up off her skin.

Reaper roaring past on his beast of a bike brought her out of her head and she pulled out after him.

He lived in a cute little condo complex on the first floor in the corner apartment. He led her in and inside was just as cute and very clean, if not a little bare, with hardly any furniture and nothing personal anywhere that she could see. She wondered if this had been his marital home.

“Did you just move in?” She asked, glancing around the bare white walls. Two black couches, no pillows, a TV unit with all the stuff that came with it. There was a large rug over the tiled floor and two end tables either side of the couch and that was it.

“No, four years ago.”

Huh. About the same time she’d moved to town.

“Are you in the middle of redecorating?”

“It’s shit, I know.” He said quietly, shrugging off his jacket to show wide shoulders in a plain gray cotton shirt. That same shirt rode up on his belly as he shook his arms to free the leather vest. He hung up both in a closet and then bent down to unlace his boots. He placed them by the wall. All very neatly. The living room connected to a large kitchen, also clean and sparse. Handsome as hell and could keep his place tidy. Reaper’s appeal just went through the ceiling.

Ah, who was she kidding here? She would have climbed on him had he been a contender for the hoarders TV show. If he’d had a wall of ferret cages she still would have loved being here, because it meant he trusted her to invite her over.

“Nooooo. It’s lovely, Reaper. I guess… I guess you live alone then?”

Subtly wasn’t her strong point and she blushed to high heavens when he glanced over. It was all she could do not to turn pinker. “It was my crap way of asking if any women come by… because they’d definitely want a million cushions on that couch, Reaper.”

He let her ramble; he always did. And then he came at her, one stride at a time and she braced ready to be in his orbit again. The man smelled good, so good in fact she held her breath a little to combat the effect.

All he did was take her light jacket and her purse, he put those away neatly too on a hook by the door. God, she loved a domesticated man. It did something funny to her insides.

“Did you get a chance to eat?”

So … no women or cushions then? Guess he wasn’t answering. She tried not to have her feelings hurt for his lack of response.

“No, the main course wasn’t served before I called you, but I’m fine. You needed your pain pills, remember?” He grunted, unmoving. “Do you get headaches a lot?”

“Yeah.”

“Let me get you some water, you grab your medication.”

He was right behind her when she turned around with a glass. Startling her into almost dropping it. “H-here you go.”

“Not taking them yet.”

She frowned. “Reaper, you’re obviously hurting. Take your pills.”

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