Loving the Reaper (Silver Falls University #2)

Loving the Reaper (Silver Falls University #2)

By Lola King

Prologue

Wren

You and Me – David Kushner

H er palm cups my cheek ever-so-softly.

Soft isn't a word I'd ever use for her, but God, this feels like everything I've ever needed.

"We're drunk," she rasps.

"Not drunk enough for it to be an excuse." Our voices are so quiet we can barely hear each other.

This is a secret. This is something we'll never tell anyone. Her standing in front of me, green eyes shining with need. Me with my head lowered so I can take in every inch of her face. So I can observe every precise shift of her features. We're close enough to feel each other's breaths on our skin. She smells sweet, of the spiked punch she's been drinking all night, a hint of weed mixing with it.

Above her face, my forehead practically touches hers, her lips skimming mine.

"You're seeing someone."

I shake my head subtly to make sure my gaze doesn't leave her eyes. They look so innocent that way, looking up into mine. Mine feel hooded from the pleasure of barely touching her. From the drunkenness of her palm keeping me prisoner with the slightest pressure.

"I saw her a few times. She means nothing."

Her quick thinking catches up right away, the only conscious thing leaving her as her subconscious needs take over. "Tell me why you're seeing her."

The corner of my mouth tips. She wants to hear it, doesn't she? That vixen.

"Because your jealousy is the only way to get your attention, Peach. I did what I had to."

She bites her lower lip, and I bring my thumb to it, pulling the plush flesh from between her teeth, then lower, until it bounces back into place. I press my finger to her mouth, and her reflex is to bite on it.

That's what Peach does. She bites, and she fights. She will drag your sanity out of you before she ends you.

"Gentle," I murmur. "Let's not do this. No push and pull. Please, just tonight. Be sweet to me, and I'll leave the side of me you hate behind."

Sensing my need for a truce, she follows me down that path. I know what got her. Me saying please. Her bite turns into nibbling my thumb, and when her tongue rolls around it, my eyes flutter shut.

"Fuck, Peach…"

As she sucks on my finger, I bring my other hand to her narrow waist, grabbing her tightly. So tightly, I feel every quick breath she takes. Her ribs push against my grip.

"We said gentle ," she snarls around my thumb.

I relax my fingers around her waist, caressing her skin instead. She's only wearing a bikini top with a flowing, see-through beach skirt. The two sparkly black triangles stay in place through the sheer force of the flimsy strings and the holy spirit holding the whole thing together. One pull at the back and I would have access to her breasts that are now pressed against my chest. The thought has my dick pushing so eagerly against my jeans, I think the zipper might burst.

I wonder if she's as wet as I am hard. I wonder if she can take what she needs out of us playing nice.

I pull my thumb out of her mouth, slide the wet finger down her throat, then her collarbone, and until I've reached her left nipple.

Shit. It's already poking through the elastic material of her bikini.

When all I do is circle it over and over again, she sucks in a sharp inhale. Her hand on my cheek goes to the back of my neck. It isn't so soft anymore, her true self showing.

She pulls, and our foreheads press firmly against each other. I slip the triangle to the side to get better access to her beautiful breast. As I flick her nipple, her eyes flutter shut, and the tiniest moan escapes her.

"We could do it," I say against her lips. "You and me. We both want to."

For the first time since we're grown-up enough to understand our feelings toward each other, Peach doesn't deny our attraction. She nods, licking her lips as she blinks her eyes open.

"We could." The green in her gaze deepens, saturated with emotions. "I could fall for you, Wren Hunter. If only you weren't such a dominating fuck."

"I don’t want us to fight this anymore. I don't want to have to show you that you like me through jealousy. You're worth so much more to me."

She nods again, her breathing accelerating as my hand lowers, skimming her stomach before I push past the elastic band of her skirt, and under her bikini.

I groan when I feel the wetness at her seam, and my middle finger breaches between her lower lips, pressing against her entrance.

Shifting her hips forward, she moves against my hand.

"Kiss me," she whispers.

I can already taste the sweetness of her lips, even though they're barely touching mine. I'm dying to kiss her. That's all I've ever wanted. She's the only woman I'd move heaven and earth for a chance to kiss.

But I slow us down, moving my mouth to her cheek and smiling against her skin.

"Say please."

She startles, attempting to push away, but my hand at her waist tightens.

"Don't. You're getting wetter."

Her breathing becomes erratic, her hips thrusting in the slightest, silently pleading with me to go further. I’ve never exerted so much self-control in my entire fucking life.

"Give in," I beg her. "You can do it for me. I won't tell anyone. I promise you, this stays between us."

I nibble her earlobe, and she tilts her head to the side to give me better access as she sighs. She's getting there. It's finally happening.

"Ask for a kiss," I say in her ear. I want her to know this is our secret. "The first step is the hardest. But then you'll beg me to push my fingers inside you."

She freezes completely.

"Wait—"

"I knew you wouldn't play nice," she hisses as she pushes me away. I stumble back and she steps to the side.

"Wait, Peach. I take it back."

She rearranges her bikini top, pointing an accusing finger at me. "You can't fucking do it. You have to take control."

"You liked it," I say calmly. "I could feel it."

"You asked me to be gentle, and I was. You said you'd leave your shitty dominant side behind if I played nice. I did. You couldn't do it. Fuck you."

Running a hand over my face, I step in front of the door as she tries to grab the handle. I can suddenly hear the party behind it. Everything had disappeared while we were close, but the real world is right out there. Her badass reputation she holds so dearly. Our friends teasing us about being into each other. The whole college knowing I want no one but her. Our friendship she desperately wants to preserve. It's all so real now.

"I'm sorry." I put a hand in front of me, but she takes a step back, staying out of reach.

Suddenly, this bedroom feels so huge. It was narrow a minute ago, like we'd have to push the walls if we wanted to separate. Now I can see she has places to be, away from me. That she was touching me because she wanted to.

This was the closest we ever got to kissing. To having sex. To being together, and I fucking blew it because I couldn't control myself.

"Get out of the way."

"I can't," I admit immediately. "We were so close. Peach, I already wanted you, but now I can't give up."

Her face hardens, her eyebrows pulling together in anger. "Your infatuation isn't my fucking problem. Get. Out. Of. The. Way."

My heart pulses in my ears, panic throbbing through my skull.

"We almost kissed and you're going to go back to pretending you don't want me?"

She snorts. "It's not that hard, Wren. Believe me. I can just have someone keep my mind off?—"

"I wouldn't finish that sentence if you want to get out of this room."

A sarcastic laugh explodes from her mouth as she throws her head back.

"Here it is." She can be so condescending. It's a superpower she has. "Wren, the asshole , Hunter. Ooh, so dominant." She pretends to shake. "Move. Go back to Ania. I bet she gets on her knees every time you snap your fingers. I bet she begs you to kiss her."

I run my tongue against my teeth. She wants the asshole? Fine, we'll get back to the usual.

"She'd bark if I asked her," I say, voice low. "She'd do anything for me to choose her instead of you. You want me to go back to her? I will. I'll kiss her, don't you worry. I'll make her come because she begs so well, how could I not?"

She squares her jaw, but the best sight is her fists tightening at her sides. Frustrated little thing she is.

"If that's what you need to feel in control, don't let me get in the way."

"I will do it, Peach," I say in all seriousness. "And when your jealousy gets the best of you, because we both know it will, I'll bring her to all our gatherings with the rest of the group. I'll parade her in front of you, and I'll watch that cute vein pop on your forehead every time she holds my hand." I point at it, smiling smugly. The way she hates.

She breathes in through her nose, nostrils flaring.

"Have a blast."

"I will."

"Good," she snarls through gritted teeth.

Fucking. Brat.

"Great."

I don't know what I expected. You don't make Peach fold by challenging her stubbornness.

We stand in silence for God knows how long until a sigh leaves me.

"Have a good night," I huff.

I turn around, open the door, and go back to the party, leaving behind what might have been my only chance to get the woman I wanted.

My only legal chance.

Ania

My erratic breaths break the silence of the dark forest. It’s proof of the pain puncturing the side of my stomach and the burning in my lungs.

This is what running for your life feels like. Tight muscles, urine trailing down your legs, everything blurring apart from what’s right in front of you.

I stop on the bank of the Silver Snake River, the open night sky finally allowing me to breathe.

The party I was attending at my sorority house is too far away for me to even hear the bass of the music anymore. I ran through the entire back of campus, through the thick woods, the painful branches.

It’s silent out here, apart from the sound of the wild current of the river. I can’t even hear the person who was chasing me. I think I might have lost them. Whoever they were.

A sob bursts past my lips. I can feel everything so vividly now. Leaning over the barrier, I vomit all the alcohol I ingested earlier tonight.

Did I survive an attempted murder?

Why?

What did I do? Who did I piss off?

My thoughts swirl, bumping against my skull as a headache comes over me. I vomit some more, disgustingly wiping my mouth with my forearm.

A beautiful, free laugh resonates behind me, and someone stumbles my way, leaning next to me.

I shake my head, trying to process that this is reality as I turn to the stranger.

“I need help,” I rasp. “I-I was attacked.”

I get no verbal answer, only two hands violently wrapping around my throat. A cough cuts my shriek short. My already tight lungs instantly feel the lack of oxygen.

All I see is a flash of fiery red hair. It can’t be missed even in the dark night.

As I lose consciousness and am pushed into the wild waters below, my last hope is for one thing only.

That the world one day learns my murderer was Penelope Sanderson-Menacci.

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