Reaper's Salvation: A Last Riders Trilogy by Jamie Begley (reading e books .txt) 📕

mark on every part of his body. She wanted the experience of them having sex to erase every woman he had touched from his memory. Better yet, she wanted to make him useless to any woman who came within his vicinity.

Giving every ounce of her to him, she clasped her thighs tighter and started bouncing on his dick, making him go faster. Gavin had to place a hand on the shower wall to prevent them from slipping on the slick floor.

His harsh breaths echoed louder as she demanded more of him. Using the showerhead, she lifted herself higher to slam herself down on his thrusting dick, inadvertently hitting the magic spot that sent them down a whirlpool of desire.

Arms shaking, Gavin set her back to her feet. “Damn, woman, you need to relax more often,” he teased, removing his hand from her butt cheek to reach down and snag the sodden hand towel from the floor.

Appreciatively watching the supple muscles in his back, Ginny twined her arms around his middle, brushing her mouth over his shoulder as he retied the hand towel back on the showerhead. With her fingertips, she smoothed through the curly hairs at the juncture of his thighs.

Gavin caught her hand, moving it higher up his waist. She didn’t try to put it back, knowing very well Gavin had limits, even though she’d given him access to every part of her—body and soul.

“Once this is over, I’ll have plenty time to relax.”

“You’re not going to keep your singing career going?”

“No.” Brushing a last kiss over his shoulder blade, she stepped out of the shower. “I gave my last performance in Nashville.”

“That’s why you thanked the audience. Why not continue what you’re so good at?” he asked, stepping out of the shower and taking the towel she handed him.

“I only sang to draw my stalker out. Since that’s no longer an issue, I don’t have to anymore,” she said matter-of-factly.

“You’re too good to stop.”

“I never wanted to start.”

“You never got over stage fright?”

“I never had stage fright. That was a misapprehension Penny had, which I never corrected.”

“Why not?”

“Because I didn’t want to sing,” she explained. “I want to write.”

“You’d rather write songs that could make someone else famous?”

“I never wanted to be famous. I just want people to listen to my words. It doesn’t matter who’s singing them. The important part to me is if my words invoke feelings they will remember. That’s why hit songs have so many covers—the words means something to someone, and they want to put their own spin on it. A good song is never forgotten.”

“So, in essence,” he said slowly, working it out in his head, “they won’t forget you.”

“Yes,” she answered, pleased he got what she was attempting to explain.

“I remembered you, and you were singing someone else’s song.”

“You clung to the words of the song. The feelings it invoked were about Taylor.” Ginny plugged in the hair dryer. “I was the forgettable part of the equation. I always am. I’m going to write a song that no one will forget about me, even if someone else is singing it,” she vowed more to herself than to him.

“Ginny, I didn’t forget you … It was just … you were so young … My mind couldn’t handle thinking about you without feeling dirty. I didn’t want the memory tarnished.”

“That’s the sweetest thing you’ve said to me.” Giving him a brief kiss, she pushed the button on the hair dryer. “Now, shoo … I have to dry my hair and get dressed.”

“In other words, you don’t want to talk about it any longer. That’s a bad habit of yours—running away when things get too uncomfortable.”

Ginny pointed the hair dryer at him. “Hello, pot meet kettle.”

Without a leg to stand where that was concerned, Gavin gave up and went to the bedroom.

She pfft him as he left. Had she finally been able to get one over him? Not that she disagreed. What could she say? He was right on that particular point. It was far easier to run than realize the inevitable. It was a lesson she had learned at three. She had been, and always would be … expendable.

Chapter Seventeen

“Ready?” Reaper looked inquiringly at Ginny when a knock sounded on the bungalow door.

“Yes.”

Expecting Ginny to exhibit more nerves, she seemed unfazed by the upcoming encounter.

His hand was on the doorknob when she touched his arm. “Gavin, at any time, if you think this meeting is going shady, pretend you aren’t feeling well. Tell them you might have the virus.”

“What will you do?”

The nervous woman from all afternoon was gone. Standing before him Ginny held assurance and a quiet confidence that he hoped would carry through the upcoming meeting.

“Come back with you, just like any concerned wife would.”

“You have a sneaky side to you that is very concerning to me.”

He wasn’t taken in by her innocent look. It was the same fucking one Silas had when he fleeced out of every dollar in his wallet when they played poker, and it was the same one she’d had when his earring was missing.

“Don’t be silly. I’m not being sneaky; I’m being prudent. I believe in being prepared.” Releasing his arm, she pasted an unconcerned look on her face, which he didn’t believe for one flipping second.

“I do, too. Ask me sometime how I was kidnapped. No matter how you prepare, some S.O.B. is out there, better prepared than you. Let’s just hope Allerton isn’t that S.O.B. today.”

He opened the door to find Agent Collins impatiently waiting, about to knock again.

“Allerton is waiting,” he said before abruptly heading toward the waiting Moke.

Reaper took her arm protectively as they climbed into the back seat and before they knew it the Moke was parked in a shaded area behind the largest building on the island. Agent Collins led them to the side of the building, leaving the driver in the vehicle.

Collins having no problem leading them through three hallways before arriving at the elevator