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Everyone we pass glances at us as we race out of the theater, Grimm’s chest exposed as the sides of his cloak flap behind him. I guess I should have thought about fixing that beforehand.
Oh well.
Once outside, I button up my jacket. It’s colder now that it’s late. The sun has gone down and the moon is clear across the dark sapphire sky, not a single cloud in sight.
I put my hat back on and Grimm gives me a look.
“What?”
He shoves his hat into my hands.
Smiling, I reach up and put his hat back on as well.
“You’re falling in love with me, Grimm. Deny it all you want.”
Grimm touches the poof with an almost absentminded look on his face. “Grim Reapers cannot fall in love, Morgan.”
Right.I’ll let him keep fooling himself into thinking that. The heart never lies.
“You kissed me in the theater. You had your hands all over me. If that employee hadn’t caught us making out, someone else would have caught us doing something different.”
His eyes narrow and I know with that single look he’s giving me that he has nothing to say.
I step closer to him, all too aware of how frighteningly close he’s now watching me. “You said I wasyours.”
He clears his throat as badly as I clear mine when I know I’m trapped. “You are. To reap,” he tries to emphasize but fails.
I’m not convinced and I don’t think he is either.
Standing on my tiptoes, I meet death’s gaze. “And what about to get dirty with? You know, since Grim Reapers can’t fall in love.”
A feral sound rips out of his throat, and suddenly we’re no longer standing in front of the theater. We’re back in my shop.
It takes me a moment to get over the disorientation of traveling across town in a matter of seconds, but I quickly adapt.
“You want to fuck me, Morgan?” He takes a menacing step forward, one that makes me tremble both in fear and in desire. “Do you know what teasing me will get you?”
“A good time?”
“Try again.” He shakes his head, and pulls the blinds of a window open with the flick of his wrist. The light of the moon peeps through and casts shadows across the floor.
He then snaps his fingers and my fireplace roars to life.
Is he… is he setting the mood?
Jutting my chin out, I play along with this little foreplay fake argument we’re having. “Why? You already said it was too late for me.”
“It is,” he growls deeply, stalking toward me slowly.
I become unbearably hot and all I need right now is for Grimm’s cold body to cool me down.
“Well, if I can’t get you to say you love me and if I can’t live until I’m seventy-nine, then all I have is right now.” I rip off my jacket and kick off my shoes, and then give him a look that says yes, I do want to get down and dirty.
We’re moving fast, and I don’t care. This isn’t just about sex, or love, or loneliness. This is about something else, and even though I don’t quite know what it is exactly just yet, I’ll be damned if I give it up.
I watch as he removes his cloak and pants. He tosses them on the ground like it's nothing. His skin takes on a dim glow, the whiteness of his bones, visible through his skin, luminous and radiating.
Stripped of his clothing and under the light of the moon, he looks like something else, something from a nightmare, a scary book or tales told to scare a child.
