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It’s not the Christmas romance I imagined this morning, but it’s perfect and cute, and it makes me feel light and bubbly.
“You want me?”
Grimm’s eyes turn to pools of bright blue ocean water, deep and foreboding, endless, yet still somehow peaceful. I’m sucked into their depths, drawn to all that is him.
“I wanted you the moment I kissed you,” I admit.
“You did not know me then,Morgan.”
The way he says my name forces a full-body shiver to run through me, but he’s right. I didn’t know him. That said, I know there’s a connection between us. There are sparks, and right now they’re flying everywhere.
“I still don’t know you, but I have a week to learn.”
He mumbles something under his breath, something I can’t quite understand.
“Look,” I add nervously, butterflies dancing in the knot of my stomach. “I know you want to kill me, but don’t you think fate is pushing us together?”
What else could it be? I was resolved in my choices today, so what were the chances thathewas the first one to appear in my shop?
As I rationalize this, I forget all about living until seventy-nine. All about the repercussions of losing this deal. All I can focus on now is him.
“Reap,” he corrects, not answering my question.
“Huh?”
“I am not here to kill you, Morgan. Only reap. You were meant to die in an accident, not by my hand or my scythe.” His predatory gaze lingers on me and softens. “But I will take care of your precious soul, regardless. Guard you safely to the other side.”
I melt like butter. If that isn’t sweet, I don’t know what is.
I decide that my hot Grim Reaper is a liar.Can’t fall in love with humans, smh.
“I’m not ready to die.” Especially not by some accident. What if it’s something horrible? Like a car crash? Or a piano falling on my head? “There’s so much I want to still do.”
“Too late,” he growls. “You’ve just made your second deal with a reaper and I am not backing down.”
Oh, fuuuuuck.My mind whirls into chaos as it dawns on me that my unwitting tease might be my actual downfall.
Oops?
Chapter Eight
Grimm
She teases me. Torments me. I am the embodiment of death. I do not take bribes. I do not make deals, but Morgan Nichols has made two of them with me already.
If I claim her, then she will allow me to claim her soul and bring her to the other side.
How can I say no?
How can I refuse when she teases me so? When she makes me feel things that I should not? Makes this earthly body of mine react in ways that should otherwise be outlawed?
This is the right thing to do, I tell myself, trying to convince myself that I am only doing this for the sake of her soul and my job. But something nags at me and I fear that my words are lies.
Still, I lean in, inhaling the scent of her. All the other souls that I must collect are nothing but a forgotten memory. Her fear, mixed with the scent of something else, something that I, as a Grim Reaper, am not overly accustomed to.
Desire.
It fills the air. It fills her eyes. I see her need. And it is only for me.
