CHAPTER FOUR
KENNEDY
I could take the afternoon and walk around the strip, but Vegas isn’t my style.
All I want is a little peace and quiet to gather my thoughts and maybe get a little sun.
The rooftop oasis of The Black Door Club, with its amazing views of the city and its luxurious surroundings, will be the perfect spot to waste the day away under an umbrellaed lounge chair.
I know I’m not alone when I step out onto the rooftop veranda. The man standing across the expanse of the roof has his massive back towards me, but I would know it anywhere.
“Reaver,” I breathe out, most likely too quietly for him to hear me. I’m not sure I say it out loud until I see his back stiffen. My heart clenches in my chest when he doesn’t bother to turn around.
I watch as he drops his head and lets out a long sigh. “What are you doing here?” he snaps. The anger in his voice is unexpected and directed at me, the person he left without so much as a goodbye.
“I… I came to find you,” I admit as I close the distance between us. “Aren’t you even going to turn around?”
Turning his head, I think for a moment that he’s going to face me. Instead, he turns back towards the strip. I’m standing so close behind him that when I breathe, I can smell the woodsy, masculine scent that is quintessentially Reaver. I could bask in his scent for all eternity and be happy.
“You need to go and forget you ever knew me.”
His words hit me like a sledgehammer to the heart. Without even thinking, I place my hand on his back. I can feel him exhale, and all his muscles relax under my palm.
“Did you think that after all this time, I would just let you leave without any explanation at all?” I’m doing my best to keep my emotions in check.
I want to yell and scream at the top of my lungs that whatever he thinks is so bad that I can’t handle it, or worse, that I wouldn’t want him, that he’s wrong.
“The only explanation you need is that you’re better off not knowing me and forgetting that I ever existed.”
His words sound so final. I almost laugh at the added notion that he intends to leave here and never return, except that I wouldn’t be able to go after him and tell him everything in my heart. If this is going to be my only chance, then I have no intention of letting it pass me by.
He doesn’t move as I slink around him until I’m standing between him and the waist-high wall of the roof. Reaver’s hands come up and grip me at the waist so tight that I’ll most likely have finger marks for days.
“What are you doing? You could fall over the edge,” he growls as he pulls me a few feet away from the wall.
“Not unless you pushed me,” I joke. But the look of pure panic on his face tells me otherwise.
Instantly, his hands drop from my body as if an unseen force repelled them. “I would never hurt you. I would rather spend the rest of my days in Treachery Prison chained to a wall while rats gnaw at my feet than harm a single hair on your body.”
Okay, well, that is a visual I can do without. “Eww,” I remark as I scrunch my nose at the visual in my mind. “Did rats actually… bite your toes?”
Something akin to a smile crosses his lips, and I can tell he’s trying to stifle a laugh at my question. Reaching up, he cups my face in his massive hands. I can’t help but lean into them, and when his thumb brushes against my bottom lip, I close my eyes and savor his touch.
“Please don’t go,” I whisper, trying hard to keep my voice from cracking.
“I don’t think I have a choice,” he admits as he leans down and presses his forehead to mine.
Closing my eyes, I savor the moment, wishing for more yet feeling him slipping away. I can feel my throat tighten and the familiar burn behind my eyes as I try to hold back my tears.
“You could choose me,” I squeak out, my voice cracking as the tears I try to hold back slowly trickle down my cheeks and soak his hands.
Wrapping his arms around me, he pulls me against him and surrounds me in the warmth of his body. All I can do is breathe in his rich masculine scent and melt into him.
“I am choosing you. I’m choosing to keep you safe the only way I know how.” His grip around me tightens as if he’s as afraid to let go as I am. “I went to Boston this morning to tell you, but you weren’t there. I didn’t want to go without seeing you one last time.”
His words stab me through the heart. One last time. He wanted to see me one last time.
Gripping onto him tighter, I do my best to make light of his words. “Of course, I wasn’t, you big oaf. I came here to talk you out of whatever stupid plan you concocted in that massive head of yours.”
I can feel his chest vibrate when he laughs at my unintentional insults. “So, you think I’m an oaf with a massive head?”
Craning my neck, I look up at him. But when I do, I don’t see any humor in his eyes, only pain.
His eyes are glassy, as if he’s holding back the same tears that I am now letting flow freely.
My gut instinct tells me he doesn’t want to leave despite his contrary behavior.
As a doctor, I know that his behavior stems from past trauma, things he needs to work through.
But as someone new to his world, I don’t have the capability or training to guide him. At least, I don’t think I do.
When he gazes down at me, every thought I have vanishes. I don’t hear the strip below or even my heartbeat. All I see and feel is the man before me and his arms wrapped around me.
In the short time we spent together in Colorado, we never ventured into the physical. Maybe he was afraid, maybe I was. But right now, looking into his eyes, I want to feel his lips pressed against mine. Rising to my tippy-toes doesn’t do much to shorten the distance between his lips and mine.
But when I run my tongue over my bottom lip, I can feel his sharp intake of breath.
When he breathes out, the sound is primal and sends a shiver down my spine directly to my core.
With one swift movement, he lifts me, and I wrap my legs around his waist. My heart is beating so fast, I’m surprised it hasn’t burst from my chest.
“I can’t leave without kissing you at least once,”
I can’t stop the smile that spreads across my face. “Really?” I whisper, my smile getting bigger. “I thought maybe this was just—” My words are stopped abruptly when his soft, full lips press against mine.
So many times, I dreamed about what Reaver’s lips would feel like against mine, but nothing could have prepared me for the reality of his kiss.
The man himself is a beast who towers over me and everyone else at nearly seven feet tall, and I’m pretty sure I’ve spotted him having to turn sideways and duck to get through doors.
And I know he’s a deadly warrior who has killed thousands in battle.
But his kiss is as gentle and soft as a hummingbird’s wings.
I’m lost in the kiss when he pulls back. My arms and legs are still wrapped tightly around him as we stare into each other’s eyes.
“What about your boyfriend?” Reaver grumbles, and I’m momentarily confused.
“What?” I snap as I try to wriggle free from his hold. The effort is futile since all he does is tighten his arms around me so I cannot get down. “What boyfriend?”
He looks away, most likely contemplating the only answer he can give me. He has no idea I saw him on my date with Kevin. That can be the only boyfriend he’s referring to, since I haven’t dated in what feels like forever.
Silently I wait for his confession.
He lets out a long breath. “I saw you with… someone,” he says through gritted teeth.
Half of me wants to let him stew and think I have someone waiting for me, but I wouldn’t want him ever to think I’m that type of person.
He is not an afterthought for me, or a second choice.
When I first saw him lugging Salem’s luggage, I knew I wanted to know everything about him.
Until a moment ago, I thought we were only ever going to be friends, and not even the kind with benefits.
And honestly, I was okay with that until I felt his lips.
Cupping my hands around his chiseled jaw, I smile at him.
“I saw you that night and searched the entire city to find you, but you had disappeared. It was a date, yes,” I confess.
“But that’s all it was. I have no boyfriend, unless you consider the battery-operated kind.
Then I’m in a seriously committed relationship,” I tease, trying to make light of the subject.
I watch his face visibly relax as he takes in this new information. And I can tell when he gets to the battery-operated part, because a devilish grin crosses his lips.
“Tell me more about this battery-operated committed relationship,” he requests, and I swear I can feel him hardening between my thighs. “I thought… I know you have every right to be happy, even if I did want to rip his arms off for even attempting to touch you.”
“Ugh… you say the sweetest things,” I admit as I kiss his neck. “But you need to know that I wouldn’t be wrapped around you like a spider monkey if I had a boyfriend or was even dating someone. I’m not that kind of person. Vlad will understand.”
Reaver furrows his brows at the mention of Vlad. The name I gave my pink rabbit after reading a book where the sexy anti-hero was named Vlad.
“Battery boyfriend,” I whisper before nipping at his earlobe. His grip tightens even more around my waist. I don’t doubt that he’s more than a little aroused, and so am I. Squeezing my thighs, I rock my hips against him. “No one will be up for hours,” I remind him.
“Kennedy,” he growls, and the primal sound does nothing to dissuade me. The deep rumble vibrating through his chest goes directly to my core and ignites a fire I don’t want to put out.
The rooftop oasis isn’t for public use, nor is the private Dimmu gate. So, no chance anyone will venture up here with the sun so high in the sky.
My decision is made easier as I deepen our kiss. “I want you,” I confess, breathless and turned on. At this moment, I don’t care that he’s leaving. I’ll take the memory of him if that’s all he’s willing to give.
The thin black T-shirt he’s wearing hugs his body like a second skin, but it’s not enough for me. I need to feel his muscles ripple under my touch. Yanking the material up, I slide my hands under and along the chiseled muscles of his abs.
I can feel his muscles tighten under my touch. Unfortunately, I didn’t think through the logistics of lifting his shirt up over his head with his arms still holding me.
“Take this off,” I whisper in his ear. “I want to see you.”
The moment I ask, I feel Reaver’s body stiffen and not with excitement. “Kennedy,” he says as he gently pushes my hands down. “Trust me. You don’t want to see what’s under this shirt.”
Pausing for a moment, I stare up at him. If anyone were to look at him walking down the street, they would think he spends every waking moment in the gym. Yet something in his voice tells me that he’s more self-conscious than anyone would suspect.
“I want to see you, Reaver. All of you,” I add as I run my fingers down his cheek. “The good, the bad, and even the ugly. I don’t care that you have scars. Everyone does.”
In one swift movement, I go from wrapped around his waist to hoisted up and over his shoulder.
All I can do is let out a playful squeal as he walks over to the other side of the roof.
I had only been up here once, pre-dawn this morning, when Salem and I came through the gate.
I didn’t take the time to look around. But despite knowing there was a pool, hot tub, a private bar, and everything else you’d expect from a diamond elite establishment, I wasn’t prepared for the luxury of it.
“Oh my God!” I exclaim as I crane my head to look around. Sloane and Asher must have spent millions on the rooftop alone. I guess it pays to be immortal.
Reaver walks past the pool and rows of chairs surrounding it and ducks into a private cabana.
I’m flipped softly onto my back, and I bounce once on the soft, cushioned lounger for two.
I give Reaver my best come-hither look, but he only stands, staring at me before he sits at my feet and gazes out toward the pool.
“I want to give you everything. But there are things you need to know about me.”
I’m about to tell him he can trust me with every secret he has when I watch him take a deep breath, reach behind him, and pull his shirt over his head.
I can’t help the inhalation of breath when I see his back.
Nothing could have prepared me for the sight of his nearly disfigured torso.
Deep welts crisscross and scar what should be flawless skin over chiseled muscle.
Reaver’s head drops, mistaking my shock for revulsion when nothing could be further from the truth.
Crawling forward, I rest my hand on his back. His scars are thick and look as if they were left to heal and then were rebroken over and over.
“They don’t scare me, Reaver. They only prove what I already know about you,” I say as I trace the largest scar from his shoulder to his waist.
“And what’s that?”
“That you endure. I can’t imagine what you went through. Yet here you are, one of the sweetest and kindest men I have ever met.”
My comment makes him laugh. “You think I’m kind? I nearly killed Sloane trying to kill my brother. I wouldn’t call that anything but psycho.”
Snaking myself around him, I move to straddle his lap.
His chest has significantly less scarring—perfect flesh over steel, with one exception.
At the dead center of his chest is a welt like nothing I have ever seen.
I know what it’s from. He’s told me the story of Asher killing him on the battlefield, but seeing it breaks my heart.
“As a medical professional who is an expert in human behavior.” Reaver gives me a raised brow, and I roll my eyes. “Well, when they give out degrees in Archangel behavior, I’ll be sure to be first in line,” I tease. “But I can attest that you are not psycho.”
“I am damaged,” he counters, and for a moment, I almost agree.
“We’re all damaged. Some of us just hide it better,” I admit before wrapping my arms around his neck and placing a soft kiss on his full lips.