Seventh Grave and No Body - Page 46/104

“Short for Black-Eyed Pea. She isn’t quite as big as one yet, but she will be soon.”

“It’s perfect.”

“It’ll do for now, but we need to come up with a great name,” I said, lying back in thought. “Something that shouts, ‘I will lay waste to the evil in this world!’”

“I agree.” Still covered in duct tape, he turned on his side to face me, his flesh straining against the binds. “You would tell me if something were wrong, right?”

“What do you mean? Of course, I would.”

“So, if you knew something could happen to you, you’d let me know.”

Where was he going with this? “Yes. Nothing is going to happen to me. Well, unless the Twelve get ahold of me. Other than that, I should be fine.”

He nodded in thought.

“Reyes, what is it?”

“I think you keep secrets from me.”

“You keep secrets from me,” I said, teasing. “Seems only fair.”

He leaned forward and nibbled on my ear. “We can decide who gets to keep secrets and who doesn’t later. Until then, want to do it?”

“Reyes!” I said, appalled. “You just had your arm nearly ripped off at the shoulder.” That and the fact that a grown man asking me if I wanted to “do it” was hilarious.

“We can still do it.”

I giggled. “No, we can’t.”

“I’m very creative with my mouth.”

“I am well aware of that.”

“You should sit on my face.”

A bubble of laughter escaped again. “I am not sitting on your face. Oh, my god.”

“Just sit on my face. I’ll make all your dreams come true.”

“You really need to practice humility,” I said.

“Humility is overrated.”

“Besides,” I said, pushing him back when he leaned into me, “we have company.”

He looked down at Artemis, her stubby tail wagging a hundred miles a minute. She was almost as happy as I was to see our man back to his normal self. “How are you, girl?” he asked, reaching down to scrub her ears.

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 na**d 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.