Reaper's Fall

“Hey, Jessica,” Taz said, cutting her off. “Shut the fuck up. It’s none of your business.”

Jessica’s mouth gaped open. Then her eyes were narrowing as she turned on him. “You’re just my booty call, don’t think you get a vote—”

Taz reached over and casually caught her behind the neck, jerking her into him for a kiss. Somehow he managed to give me a thumbs-up behind her back as I tried to bite back my laughter. Jess had been so subdued for a while after whatever the hell it was that’d happened to her down in California. I’d been happy to see her showing signs of life again, but this thing with me and Painter? Yeah. None of her business.

I wandered back out into the living room, looking around for my phone. Jessica’s was next to the TV, and I grabbed it to call myself. (She’d been using the same pass code since she got her first phone—I’d cracked it years ago.) The couch buzzed at me before I could even dial, though. Incoming text. The phone must’ve fallen down between the cushions.

I pulled it out to find a series of messages from Painter.

PAINTER: Mel—you’re still asleep so I went to get breakfast. Back soon.

PAINTER: Dunno what you like so getting you a latte.

PAINTER: Back in five.

I smiled, feeling a tension I hadn’t even fully acknowledged release in my chest—he hadn’t pulled a runner on me. Not only that, he’d be here in less than five minutes . . . and I still looked like a diseased lizard!

Oh no. Not gonna happen.

“I’m taking a shower!” I yelled at the top of my lungs, hoping Jess wouldn’t be too busy screwing Taz to let Painter inside. It was a risk I’d have to take, because no fucking way was I answering the door in full molt.

Our tub was one of the best features of the house—a big, old-fashioned claw-foot. An oval shower curtain rack hung down from the ceiling, and I always felt vaguely elegant and exotic in it. Well, at least I felt that way until I turned the water on . . . then things occasionally went ugly. Our hot water was unreliable in general, because we shared plumbing with everyone else in the house. That meant if anyone in the other apartments flushed a toilet, ran the sink, or even blinked too hard, icy cold water exploded over whoever was unfortunate enough to be in the shower when it happened. For once I was lucky—the water ran out hot and strong, liquefying the paint as it ran down my body in streams.

I’d gotten most of my arms and front clean and was trying to figure out how to do my back when a hand came in through the shower curtain. I gave a shriek as Painter stepped inside, covering my mouth with his to swallow the noise. The kiss was hard and hot and desperately hungry, taking me from zero to sixty in an instant.

Yeah, my high school boyfriends hadn’t kissed like this.

Not even a little bit.

Great as it was, though, the kiss wasn’t enough. I found myself running my hands up and down his side, then reaching around to cup his ass. It was sculpted and tight with muscle, tensing under my touch. This set his cock rubbing against my stomach, still slippery from the soap I’d used to scrub off the paint.

Painter broke free from the kiss.

“Holy fucking hell, you’re gorgeous,” he gasped, lifting me and wrapping my legs around his waist in one smooth movement. The contrast between our skin—him all pale and me dark from the sun—was striking. We’d make beautiful babies together.

Wait. Where had that come from?

Before I could explore that disturbing thought any further, his mouth took mine again. I was squirming all over him, and then his dick was pushing against my opening and I was sliding down over him.

It hurt more than before, which startled me.

It was a good hurt—more like a stretch—but I was definitely sore from the night before. Then his hips pulled back for another thrust, and it struck me just how strong he must be to hold me like this. I mean, who does that in real life?

Each stroke pushed him deeper. Kissing was too complicated now—I needed to focus everything on the sensations building between my legs. I bit into his shoulder instead, feeling and hearing him groan at the same time. Everything was moving so fast, but I was almost there. Close. Really damned close. All I needed was a little more—

Ice-cold water hit us with the force of a truck.

“Motherfucker!” Painter shouted, slipping. My legs were all tangled around his and then we were falling toward the tub and all I could think about was how hard that bitch Jessica would laugh at me for this. I closed my eyes, bracing for a hit that never came because Painter somehow managed to twist midair, protecting me. Then we crashed into the side of the tub together, in a tangle of body parts and very cold water.

“Are you okay?” I gasped, trying to push myself up. Painter blinked, looking a little stunned.

“Yeah, I think so,” he said, raising an arm to the side of the tub. “You know, that was pretty fuckin’ good until the cold water hit.”

Jessica burst into the bathroom, lurching to a stop in front of the tub, Taz right behind her.

“Are you guys okay?”

“We were taking a shower,” Painter said, his voice dry. “Now we’re taking a bath.”

“Nice rack,” Taz chimed in.

“Pervert,” I snapped, trying to pull the shower curtain in front of me. That’s when the oval hoop that suspended it from the ceiling collapsed, sending curtain and metal bars down and around us in a giant clatter.

Then the water went from icy cold to burning hot and I screamed. I’m not entirely sure what happened after that, but I do know it involved Taz laughing, Painter wrapping a towel around me, and Jessica getting carried downstairs over Taz’s shoulder.