“Umm... sounds fun.” She carried the flower arrangement into the living room and set it on an end table. “Whatcha got?”
“The Unforgiven.”
“Huh? Who’s in it?”
“Clint Eastwood. Morgan Freeman. Gene Hackman.” He handed her the case.
“Oh.” Her mouth curved ruefuly.
“What?”
“There’s something else wrong with me: I’m not a fan of westerns.”
His eyes were warm with amusement. “Give it thirty minutes. If you’re not enjoying it, I’l entertain you another way.”
“I can go for that.” Yum. She licked her lips.
“And yours?” He crossed his arms and looked sexy as hel. “What are you putting on the table?”
“Gabriel. Have you seen it?”
Raze’s mouth opened, hung that way for a moment, then closed again. His lips twitched. “Angels?”
She deflated. “You’ve seen it.”
“Probably not the same story,” he said wryly. “What’s it about?”
“Falen angels who kick some serious— What’s so funny?”
He tried to wipe the smile off his mouth with his hand. “Do they turn into vampires?”
“Who? The angels? No. It’s not a comedy, you know. It’s dark and gritty.”
“Gotcha.” But he was clearly stil very amused.
“Then again...” She thought about it. “That might actualy be a cool story. Maybe some werewolves, too? Like Underworld with angels? Could be interesting.”
Laughing, he picked her up and spun her around. His delight spurred her own and she found herself laughing with him.
“You’re crazy, Raze. You know that?”
“About you.” He took her mouth in a breathless kiss.
* * *
Kim ended up liking The Unforgiven, as Raze had known she would. He couldn’t explain how he knew, it was just there. It was as if she had a rhythm to her, a unique tempo that resonated perfectly inside him. And he’d liked Gabriel, as she’d suspected he would.
Synergy, he thought, tightening his arms around her. He lay stretched out on her sofa, barefooted and comfortable. She was sprawled between his legs, her back to his chest, her arms crossed over his. Every breath he took smeled of her, that unique fragrance that was partly a soft floral perfume and mostly her natural essence.
He’d never experienced anything even remotely similar to this casual intimacy. Associations for him had always been necessities—he worked with his teams, he fucked the wiling, and he relaxed alone. Al of the Falen had lost their souls when they’d lost their wings, one couldn’t exist without the other. But the rest of the Falen had loved before they fel and he’d wondered if perhaps the ability to know love was something he could’ve only learned when he’d been whole. Perhaps he had missed his chance.
Clearly, he’d been wrong to think that way. He’d never understood the saying My heart’s not in it. Why did your heart need to be in anything? Do what you need to do. But now he knew. He’d enjoyed his work, sex, and his solitude, but his heart had never been in any of it. Until, perhaps, now.
Raze pressed a kiss to her temple, marveling at how drasticaly his life and outlook had changed in a mere day. “You know,” he murmured, “now we can say we’ve known each other days, as in plural.”
Her head moved on his chest as her gaze slid from the television to the digital clock on her cable box. “It feels like so much longer than that.”
She sat up despite his protests and shifting, moving to straddle him. He watched her, riveted by her elegant sensuality. She was way, way out of his league, but somehow he was making her happy. She caught the pul of her zipper, one that ran from cleavage to waist on the simple but pretty strappy emerald dress she wore.
“Ready for your surprise?” she asked, with sparkling eyes.
“Hmm... A surprise.” He gripped her thighs beneath the hem and squeezed. “You’re al I need.”
“And I’m what you’l get.” The dress parted and she drew it over her head.
Jesus. He went hard al over. Her delicate breasts were cupped by mere scraps of green satin framed by black lace. The wisp covering the sweet flesh between her thighs was nothing more than a tease. The whole sparkled with crystals and contrasted beautifuly with her creamy skin, dark hair, and peridot eyes. He lost his breath for a moment, along with his brain.
“A surprise,” he murmured. “And a gift. God. Kim. You shred me.”
Her greedy hands slid up beneath his shirt and her mouth sealed over his. She took him. And fisting her hair, he gave.
* * *
They spent Sunday morning being deliciously lazy, roling around in bed and talking about their work. Raze could say little about the particulars of what he did, but he told her he traveled a lot and worked in teams occasionaly. He told her about Vash and Syre, Torque and Salem, smudging details as necessary to get the gist across. It was easier than he would have thought to talk so much. Kim made it easy by listening attentively and refraining from asking questions he couldn’t answer. In return he strove to be as honest as possible under the circumstances. Eventualy, he’d tel her everything. After he discussed it with Syre and Vashti.
Kim talked about her job as a medical laboratory scientist and he listened raptly, amazed that of al the people he could’ve found this depth of connection with he’d found one who spent her days looking at blood. She was, in her own way, as drawn to the vital substance as he was. What were the odds?
She was a trust fund baby, which alowed her to do what she loved for a living. Most of her friends were also her co-workers and Janele had been her best friend since grade school. As he’d expected, Kim had been engaged once, shortly after graduating from colege, but she’d broken it off when she realized she wasn’t ready to settle down.
Shortly after ten, she went into the kitchen to grab breakfast and he returned a cal from Vashti that he’d missed while indulging in Kim.
“Vash.” He kept the video off and held the phone to his ear. “News?”
“The team of six I sent arrived this morning and they’re already sweeping through what’s left of your list of known Grimm haunts. They have orders to gather what intel they can and pass it along to you. You’re primary, so stay available.”