Can we take a moment to fawn over the cover? Dan Rix, in addition to being an incredible writer and a wonderful husband, is also a ridiculously talented cover artist, and I'm blown away by this latest cover!
Reaping Angels Description
There are few things superhero Angel wants in life. World peace. Unlimited chocolate banana milkshakes. Spandex outfits with pockets. What she doesn’t want is the attention of the Executioner, a supervillain who kills with his touch.
But the moment she survives a caress—and a kiss—at the mercy of his lethal skin, Angel realizes her problems just got a whole lot bigger. Because the only thing worse than a supervillain who wants to kill you is one who wants to keep you.
He watched me, mesmerized by my movements. The Executioner might never have experienced this casual seduction between a man and a woman. Even I, a twenty-three year old who was allergic to relationships, knew more about this than he did, and he looked to be several years older than me.
I snuck a glance down at his hands. Fisted. Meaning he was restraining himself a great deal. I was quickly learning all of his tells.
“What are you doing?” he asked, his voice rough.
I looked up at him. His jaw was tight with tension and his eyes glinted. Some long and drawn out war was going on behind that face of his.
“Removing your clothing,” I said. The smile I gave him was sly.
As soon as I unzipped his jacket, I slid my hands beneath it and over his chest. Mmm, Torture Boy had a nice set of pecs. My touch moved up to his shoulders. Thick, corded muscle covered these too.
“Why would you do that?” he murmured.
I forced his jacket down his arms. Underneath it, he wore a fitted T-shirt.
“Remove your clothing?” I asked, my gaze moving from his chest back to his face, where his eyes devoured me. “Because I want to. And because you have me here for this very reason. Or would you rather we play checkers and sing songs together? We can do that if you’d prefer.” The Executioner’s jacket hit the floor a second later, the sound punctuating my words.
“I can remove my own clothing,” he growled.
“But then you can’t chance one of my hands grazing your skin.” As I spoke, I deliberately slid the tips of my fingers down his forearms.
His eyes darkened with want. All from my words. Toying with this supervillain was kind of fun. Much better than my usual experience with them, which usually involved lots of blood and pain.
I grabbed the edges of the black shirt he wore and yanked up, uncovering miles and miles of delicious muscles.
Le sigh. Bad guys always had the hottest bodies.
The Executioner helped me remove the shirt since he was considerably taller than me. And then he stood there, all his sculpted muscles on display. And no one to give this exquisite form love. I wanted to cry out on behalf of woman everywhere that no one had gotten to revel in these muscles before me.
I reached out to touch him, curious to see what reaction this would elicit.
The Executioner caught my wrist and almost dropped it before he remembered that I couldn’t be killed by his touch. “Too fast,” he said, closing his eyes.
“But you got to kiss me.”
He nodded, his nostrils flaring. His eyes were still closed. “That was too fast.”
Changing his tune now, was he?
The Executioner threaded his fingers through my own. “Goddamn,” he murmured, opening his eyes to stare at our entwined hands.
He was soaking up my touch, savoring it like it was something decadent. And so help me, I was charmed to my toes.
He’s a bad guy, Angel, not a neglected puppy.But even as I thought it, a small voice whispered in my ear, Maybe he’s both.
If you enjoyed that, make sure to click here to add Reaping Angels to your "To Read" list on Goodreads. And mark your calendars for October 15, when it hits shelves!