Free Sixth Grave on the Edge by Darynda Jones Page B

stand?”
    “For starters, you can stop scowling at him.”
    He let his gaze travel back to Duff, slowly, menacingly, then said, “But it’s fun.”
    “Reyes Alexander Farrow.” I marched back to him. “Can you be nice to the departed or not?”
    He lowered his head, pretending to be repentant, then looked at me from underneath his long lashes and said, “But Duff here isn’t just any departed, are you, boy?” He leveled another cold stare on him, and Duff disappeared.
    “Damn it,” I said, backhanding Reyes’s shoulder, albeit lightly. “How do you know him?”
    “Duff and I are old friends. He used to come visit me in prison.”
    “What?” I glanced over my shoulder, but he was still gone. “Why?”
    “He was keeping an eye on me.” He reached out and let his fingers glide along my stomach.
    “Why would he do that?” I asked. I was always out of the loop.
    “He was worried about you. Seems he’s smitten.”
    Oh, man. Seriously? “He’s a departed, Reyes. It’s not like we can actually have a relationship.”
    “If any human could have a relationship with a departed, it’d be you. And he knows it.” He slid a finger into my belt loop and tugged.
    “Reyes, he’s harmless. Be nice to him.”
    He ran a hand around to the small of my back, the heat of him almost too much to bear. It soaked into my skin and my hair, and caused goose bumps to lace over me, it was so hot. “I love that about you,” he said, picking up a lock of my hair and rubbing it between the fingers of one hand while pulling me closer with the other. “Your inability to see the bad in people until it’s too late.” He was being awfully flirtatious, almost as though he were trying to change the subject.
    “Are you saying Duff is a bad person?”
    “I’m saying you’re too good for him.”
    I finally molded to him, letting him press against me. “I’m too good for you, too,” I said, teasing. But he didn’t take the bait.
    “Agreed,” he said instead, a second before he lowered his mouth to mine, fusing us together like an arc welder. He wrapped his arms around me, the hold viselike, unyielding. The heat was blistering and surreal at once, and I felt it all the way down to my toes. He broke off the kiss and nipped at my ear. “I guess it’s a good thing you can have a relationship with a departed,” he said.
    “Why’s that?”
    “We can still see each other after I die.”
    I tried to lean back to look at him, but Reyes went from cruising at a solid twenty-five miles per hour to flying faster than the speed of sound. In an instant, he had me pinned against the wall, the long fingers of one hand bracing both wrists above my head while the other slipped beneath my sweater. His hand slid around my waist and up my spine, his fingertips tracing the hollow line of my vertebrae.
    “Probing for a weak spot?” I asked him softly, well aware of his penchant for severing spines.
    “I know exactly where your weak spots are,” he said, and he proved his point by slipping his hand underneath my bra and cradling Will Robinson, teasing her crest with a soft squeeze.
    Arousal leapt inside me so fast, I felt the world spin.
    “And I know exactly where to probe,” he continued. He pushed my legs apart with his hips and pushed against me, the friction of our jeans causing a nuclear heat to build in my abdomen.
    I tore one wrist free of his grasp and planted my hand on a steely buttock to pull him closer. He let a husky growl escape him. The deep sound reverberated through my bones, crashing like spilled wine against them. And like wine, the effect was intoxicating.
    Someone, a man, cleared his throat nearby.
    It took me a moment to realize we had company. When I did, I broke our hold with a startled jump. “Uncle Bob,” I said, smoothing my clothes and straightening to face him. “You’re early.”
    “I’m late, actually.” He stood there in a brown suit and loosened tie, looking both uncomfortable and cautious.
    I