The Reaper and the Cop Read Online Free PDF Page A

baby.”
    He laughed and unlocked the door. Swinging it open, he swept an arm out to indicate she should precede him. He watched her, dark heat and anticipation swirling through his veins. Whatever she was, if she had any idea of his thoughts, what he wanted to do to her and her delectable body, she’d run for the hills.
    “Come into the parlor, said the spider to the fly.”
    Already through the door ahead of him, she shot a glance over her shoulder. The slow smile she gave him was wicked and hit him down low, his cock at instant attention. “Are you sure you’re the spider? Or the fly?”
    A thrill shot along his spine, but didn’t dispel the arousal surging through his body. She could have been Shelob herself, and he wouldn’t care, but would happily go to his death, content with one touch of her lips.
    Of course, he had far more plans than just one kiss…
    ***
    “Oww! What are you trying to do? Dig for China?”
    Troy, as I’d found out Regan’s first name was, sighed and lifted the dressing he was using to clean up the cut at the corner of my lips.
    He was as gentle as a lamb, but since he’d made me wash my mouth out with salty water, I wasn’t feeling that charitable toward him. Not when said salty water had found and irrigated every cut on the inside of my cheek. Cuts I’d have been quite happy to ignore the existence of, I’d discovered that he nagged better than the Grimm did, and that was saying something.
    “Don’t be such a baby. It’s a little cut.” He dabbed at the cut again, and I considered punching his lights out. “There, all better.” He smiled. “What were you thinking just then?”
    “That it would be a pity to mess up your pretty face by busting your nose.” I’m blunt, always have been. It used to get me into hot water as a kid, these days…yeah, it still gets me into trouble.
    He smirked and dropped the dressing in the bowl. “Pretty, huh? So you think I’m attractive.”
    Great. I get the one guy in the world who isn’t up in arms about being called pretty, or by some chick threatening to break his nose.
    “Maybe.”
    I hedged the question, looking around the room instead of at him. The place was small, but neat. A comfortable, lived in place that bore no hint of femininity at all. If a woman, other than his mother, had been here in weeks, I’d have been very much surprised.
    “But you have no idea what my criteria for attractiveness is. For all you know, I could be a Were-warthog and into….” Shit. What the hell were Were-warthogs into?
    His strong fingers hooked around my jaw and pulled my head around, forcing me to meet his eyes. Amusement and something else, something darker and a hell of a lot hotter, danced within them. An answering flare turned the blood in my veins into a simmering, seething mass. The awareness that had stretched between us from that first look in the bar, and deepened with the little episode outside the door, blossomed as we sat there, gazing into each other’s eyes.
    Yeah, sounds like a bad romance flick, doesn’t it? The kind of scene in a film I snigger at and start throwing popcorn at the screen, if I’m even watching something so soppy in the first place. I can count the number of such films on the fingers of one hand. I go for action films. Give me explosions and car chases and I’m a happy bunny. But now, in my own chick-flick moment, I was frozen in place.
    “I’ve wanted to do this since I saw you.” The words were whispered against my lips, soft puffs of air that turned them from mere sound to a tactile experience. My eyelids started to flutter shut without permission as all my senses focused on the distance between our lips.
    Time stood still for a second before his mouth covered mine. Soft. Warm. Pliant. I’d expected a take charge attitude. A charge in there, demanding what he wanted sort of kiss. Instead, he caressed and teased, not drawing me closer, but letting me do all the running. Made me chase him to get more of