I was floored he could even move that arm.
“Go get the ball,” he said, pretending to throw one.
Artemis bound off the bed and dived through the wall in search of an invisible ball as I sat gaping at him.
“That was so mean,” I scolded.
“What?” he asked, leaning into me again. “She likes balls. You do, too, if I recall.”
“You are incorrigible. What about your shoulder?”
“I don’t plan on using my shoulder for this,” he said, sending his hand down the front of my pajama bottoms, the ones that read MELTS IN YOUR MOUTH. A delicious jolt of pleasure rushed through me as his fingers found the core of my being and buried themselves inside. I drew in a lungful of air.
“What about your back?” I asked.
“I’ll put my back into it. I promise.”
“No, Reyes,” I said, pushing him away again. “I mean it. You were almost ripped apart, and suddenly you’re okay to have sex?”
“Dutch,” he said, squeezing the inside of my thigh, “if I weren’t okay to have sex, do you think I could do this?”
He parted the folds between my legs, his fingers deftly caressing the most sensitive, most tender part of my flesh. He wrapped his other hand around my neck and drew my mouth up to his.
After an initial rush of pleasure that left me trembling with need, I broke off the heated kiss and whispered, “Okay, you win.”
He leaned over me and said into my ear, “Dutch, I won the moment you crawled into bed.”
He really did need to work on his self-esteem.
I reached down and wrapped my fingers around his erection. He sucked in a sharp breath of air through his teeth. Then, pinning me to the bed with his weight, he grabbed both wrists and locked them over my head, keeping them at a safe distance while he did as he pleased. It was hardly fair, since I wanted to explore the hills and valleys of his body as much as he wanted to explore mine. I wanted to point out the fact that his were much more fascinating than anything I had to offer. They were hard and smooth at once, rigid yet pliant when they rolled under my touch, flexed in response to a kiss.
He lifted my top over my head to gain access to Danger and Will. As he suckled the hardened peaks, giving each one the same amount of attention, swirling his tongue in a maddeningly erotic move, he lowered my bottoms with his other hand. And people say men can’t multitask.
Impatiently, I kicked off the leggings as he rose from the bed. The chill from his absence gave me goose bumps. He closed the door, then turned to me in all his naked glory, his skin shimmering in the low light. I stilled and allowed myself to absorb every inch of him. He reached on top of my dresser and brought back something I couldn’t quite make out. Then I heard a ripping sound as he walked forward, his gait like that of a predator readying to attack.
The bed dipped when he climbed on. He straddled me, his heat settling over me like a warm blanket. Reaching up, he wrapped a wrist with something cold. Something sticky.
A bubble of laughter escaped me. “Duct tape?” I asked.
“Hush,” he said, his brows drawn in an adorable look of concentration. “This is a delicate procedure.” He ripped off another strip and bound my wrists together.
A shiver of anticipation ran down my spine as he worked. My pulse accelerated. My skin tightened.
His erection lay between Danger and Will, and my mouth watered, wanting to taste him in the worst way, to feel the rush of his blood beneath my tongue, but he wouldn’t allow me to rise or to use my hands. He left me again and grasped an ankle, ran his fingertips along my instep, sending a startlingly sharp wave of pleasure up my leg before ripping off another strip of tape and wrapping it. He seemed to be growing more impatient as he worked. He pulled, spreading my legs wide, and secured it to the frame with another strip. After showering my calf and the inside of my knee with soft, hot kisses, he did the same to the other ankle, spreading me even farther.
Then he stood over me like a king observing his conquest. I lay open and exposed. I’d never been particularly self-conscious, but I couldn’t help a moment of doubt as he gazed at me. His expression was so intense, so magnetic, however, that all doubt melted. But I could never have imagined what would happen next.
He started at my ankles, first rubbing them with his thumbs, then leaning in, placing the tiniest of kisses along my skin, grazing his teeth a microsecond before he bit down. Just barely. Just enough to cause a slight spike in pain.
I gasped at almost the precise moment he did. Then I understood. I felt his reaction to my pain. Felt it bounce off him and into me like a ricochet of pleasure that stabbed into my center. He did the same to the other ankle. Each bite crackled like lightning beneath my skin, and I squirmed with need and uncontrollable delight. He licked, then drank, then bit as though taking tequila shots up my legs, and the insane exhilaration washing through me, filtered through his own tactile response, caused me to cry out softly. But it was enough to get his attention.
He straddled me again and tore off another strip of tape, only to secure it over my mouth before descending on Danger and Will. His teeth grazed an erect nipple, just hard enough to cause another spike, another stab, another ricochet.
I threw back my head and wiggled helplessly as he did this over and over, giving every inch of my body the same amount of attention. Even the insides of my wrists, covered by tape, were not safe. He just bit harder to get the reaction he wanted, tensing each time and pausing to let the pain wash over him and back into me.
Without warning, he dipped lower, forced my legs even farther apart, and suckled the folds between my legs, feathering soft strokes with his tongue, whipping me to the brink of orgasm. I gasped behind the tape as an intense pleasure pooled in my abdomen. I became molten lava, scorching hot beneath his touch, and the swell of climax flared to life deep in my core. I moaned as it flourished and grew in size and strength like a summer tide. He pushed his fingers inside me, milking it even closer until I almost begged for release.
Then he sank his teeth into the delicate folds, the pain pushing me higher, up and up until the bittersweet sting of orgasm burst inside me and spilled through me like a boiling sea.
Before I came down entirely, Reyes crawled on top of me, grabbed a handful of hair to secure me to the spot, and slid inside me, burying every inch of his erection in one quick thrust. I bit down, whipped my head back as my climax rebound. He began to move inside me, exquisitely slow at first, then harder, faster, as though desperate with need. With hunger. Another wave of pleasure rippled through me as I felt his own orgasm growing. Pulsating. Rocketing through him.
He thrust into me with a fierce fervor, seeking that high until it cracked and shattered inside him, the ethereal sensation crashing against his bones. I followed suit, coming for a second time, pleasure so sharp and raw, I forgot how to breathe. His climax felt like white-hot sparks falling over my skin as reality settled around us once again.
10
You’re the reason I get up in the morning.
That, and I need to pee.
— E-CARD
I woke early the next morning to sticky wrists and a raging headache. I felt like Barbara, my brain, had exploded into a liquid goo but Fred, my skull, was keeping everything intact. I slipped out of bed quietly, trying not to wake my affianced, and stumbled to the bathroom. My head and everything attached to it hurt. My hair hurt. My lashes hurt. My brows hurt possibly most of all. Even my earlobes hurt. Perhaps that last orgasm caused a mini-stroke. I checked my mouth to see if it was lopsided.
Seeing nothing out of the ordinary, I took my morning tinkle and brushed my teeth – not at the same time or anything, though I could multitask like that when in a hurry.
Having left my brush in Reyes’s bathroom, I went through the now open bedrooms and into his apartment. Before I made it to the bathroom, however, I heard a painfully soft knock on his door. As I made my way toward it, the doorknob jiggled as though someone was testing it.
I
furrowed my brows and stepped closer. Since I was wearing only a nightshirt, I cracked open the door to peer into the barely lit hall. A woman with long black hair stood on the other side. She was clearly just as surprised to see me as I her. She jumped back, startled; then a slow dawning spread over her, and the stark jealousy I not only felt but also saw in her expression raked over my frayed nerve endings.
“I’m looking for Reyes Farrow,” she said, her voice low, as though not wanting to disturb the neighbors. “I’m Sylvia Starr.”
I knew who she was, but why in the hell was she showing up at Reyes’s apartment so early in the morning? I decided to call her on it.
“This is his apartment, and it’s way too early to receive visitors.”
She blinked, appalled, but I wasn’t sure if it was my tone or the fact that another female was in her love interest’s apartment.
She tried to hand me her card. “Can you ask him to call me? We need to set up a time for an interview I’m doing for News at Seven.”
Refusing to take the card, I let her hand hang in the air. “I think, Ms. Starr, he’s made it clear he doesn’t want an interview.”
Anger surged out of her in a hot wave. “And you are?”
I couldn’t help it. Reyes might not want me in her crosshairs, but I could handle the likes of a Barbara Walters wannabe any day of the week. I didn’t say it gloatingly, but I did make sure to pronounce every syllable with infinite care when I said, “His fiancée.”
A soft gasp escaped her and she stepped back. After a moment, she shook back the long locks that had fallen over her shoulders and said, “Funny, he didn’t mention you the other day when I suggested we have dinner.”
“That’s because he had no intention of having dinner with you, Ms. Starr. There was no need. And aren’t you a little early for dinner?”
“Just tell him I dropped by,” she said, turning to leave.
The emotions radiating out of her were downright volatile. Reyes was right about her. She was nuts.
I retrieved my brush, but combing it through my hair proved too painful, so I tiptoed into the living room to check on the boys. While Osh lay sleeping in the exact same position I’d left him, Garrett was just waking up. Looking to my left, I figured out why. Cookie was in my kitchen cooking breakfast. She was a saint.
“Hey, Cook,” I said, nodding an acknowledgment toward Garrett as he stretched in the chair, then grimaced as a jolt of pain seized him. I knew how he felt. A jolt of pain seized me with the nod. No more nodding for me. “You will not believe who showed up at Reyes’s door a few minutes ago.”
She stopped what she was doing and checked the delicate watch on her wrist. “This early?” she asked.
“Yep, and it was none other than Sylvia Starr.”
“No,” she said.
“I kid you not. She wanted an interview. She’s tenacious, I’ll give her that.”
“I’ll give her a shiner if she doesn’t stay away from our boy.”
I gave her a thumbs-up before I had to do something about the wetness on the side of my mouth. She’d made a pot of coffee and I drooled. Like literally. I had to get a napkin.
“Have a cup,” she said, handing me a mug out of the cabinet and filling it to the brim.
“Cook, you know what I’m going through right now. And my head hurts.”
“Does it feel like a raging inferno engulfed your brain?”
“Yes.”
“Like a volcano went off and your everything exploded inside your skull?”
My god, she was good. “Exactly like that.”
“It’s caffeine withdrawal. I told you what would happen if you cold-turkeyed it.”
I grabbed my head as another spasm of pain jerked me sideways, slamming my head into an open cabinet door. Which did not help at all. “What the fuck? I thought you were exaggerating.”
“Nope. You’ll just have to suffer through it. But I’ve decided to join you.”
About that time, I noticed a coffee can sitting on my counter next to the eggs. A green coffee can. The color of the devil!
“What is that?” I asked, screeching as Garrett walked into the kitchen looking like a sleepy, sexy zombie.
He yawned and reached over our heads for a coffee cup.
“If you’re going to suffer,” Cookie said, “I’m going to suffer with you. I’m giving up caffeine, too.”
I scrutinized the mug in her hand. “What are you drinking now?”
“What we’re both going to be drinking for the next eight months. We’re switching to decaf.”
The horror that riveted through me, the absolute terror with a taint of nausea, stunned me speechless for three, maybe four seconds. I put the mug down and made a cross with my fingers, screaming, “Death before decaf!” as Garrett poured himself a cup. The fool.
“Oh, stop it.” She put down her cup and tried to give me mine back. “Just give it a shot.”
“I can’t. That’s like asking me to cheat on Reyes with Garrett.”
He scowled at me as he doctored his cup of devil’s blood with cream and sugar.
“Suit yourself,” Cook said, picking hers up and taking a long, lingering draw.
After a few agonizing moments, the aroma started to get to me. I almost caved because of that, not because of Cookie’s coffee porn. Really, who sucked on a mug like that? I leaned closer as she licked a drop sliding down the side and moaned in ecstasy. It was so wrong and yet so very, very right.
“It doesn’t smell like decaf,” I said, watching Garrett take a sip and waiting for his reaction. It was much the same as Cookie’s, without the licking and moans, but he did seem amused by her dedication. I was surprised she wasn’t gyrating against Mr. Coffee. Maybe if I stuffed a ten-spot down her bra.
“You’ve never even tried decaf?” she asked, sliding my mug closer.
I let the suspicion I felt show in my wary expression.
Her brows inched up, waiting. Clearly, she wasn’t going to give up until I did the deed.
“Fine, I’ll try it. But don’t be disappointed when I spit it out in disgust. Or when I vomit. Or when my head does a three-hundred-sixty-degree spin on its axis.”
“I’m not overly worried.”
“Okeydokey. You’ve been warned.” I lifted the cup as though it carried a lethal pathogen, carefully brought it to my lips, and sipped. Warm, rich, fake liquid gold slid over my tongue and down my throat, bathing my taste buds in utter ecstasy. My eyes rolled back into my head and I almost collapsed. “Oh, my god,” I said, taking another sip. “This is awesome.”
“Told you.” She turned her attention to scrambling eggs, because eggs rarely scrambled themselves.
“Wait!” I said, causing another spasm to seize my fine motor skills for a split second before I could finish my thought. “Even though this is decaf, will it help my headache?”
“No,” she said over her shoulder.
“Darn. You know, you really don’t have to quit caffeine just for me.”
“Are you kidding? I’d do anything for you. Although quitting caffeine is going to be hard. I’d be more inclined to sell my firstborn.”
“Word.”
“Want to help me with this tape?” Reyes asked as he strolled into the kitchen in nothing but pajama bottoms. Was there anything sexier than a shirtless man in pajama bottoms, even one covered in duct tape? I doubted it.
“Are you sure you’re ready?” I asked in alarm as Cookie dropped several items in concert with his entrance. I was pretty sure a couple of them were eggs. And something splatty, like bacon. “Three-second rule!” I shouted without looking back at her. I didn’t want to draw attention or anything. Or embarrass her.
Reyes tossed her a playful wink before saying, “Sure as I’ll ever be.”
I imagined the tape ripping off the skin, and another seizure hit. After a long, eventful recovery, we went into the living room and he sat on the coffee table as I went to work. I peeled ever-so-slowly, worried I’d rip the flesh f
rom his bones. But it was incredible. The skin was pink where it had been injured, but completely closed. There wasn’t a single open wound.
“What about the inside? The muscle and tendons?” I asked him. It had literally been shredded the day before.
He tested it, lifting his elbow slightly and flexing his muscles from different positions. They swayed and rolled beneath his perfect skin like a swimmer’s. “They all seem to be back in working order. Just really sore.”
“I can’t imagine why. I’ve never seen anything like this.” I rubbed my fingers along the newly formed skin. Even more bizarre was the fact that his tattoos, for lack of a better word, the marks he’d been born with that formed a map to the gates of hell, had re-formed in perfect symmetry with his uninjured side. Not a single line was marred or misshapen, and his flesh had been laid bare. It was a sight I would never forget. “That’s how you healed so fast after getting shot that time.”
“It is.” He stood, tested his back before turning toward the recliner and its occupant.
“Breakfast will be ready in ten,” Cookie said, “with a few added nutrients from the floor.”
“Attagirl. Can’t let that stuff go to waste.”
Reyes was studying Osh, whose name I was still having difficulty applying to the Daeva sleeping so soundly in the plush chair. But when I thought of him as a kid instead of a thousand-year-old demon, it worked better. I tried to focus on that, because he really did look like a kid. His shoulder-length black hair needed brushing and his lashes fanned across youthful cheeks. He had a perfectly straight nose and a full mouth, as though caught between the stages of teen and adult. I had to remind myself at times what he was. And, possibly more important, what he was capable of.
“We should let him sleep,” I said to Reyes.
“He’s coming out of stasis now.”
“You can feel it?”
“Yes,” he said. “And once he’s out, I have some questions for him.”
“What kind of questions?” I asked, worried at the turn of events.
“He has ulterior motives. I can feel it.”
Seventh Grave and No Body Page 15
