Eleventh Grave in Moonlight (Charley Davidson #11)(56)

“Yeah, but when I marked those men, I was in a state of heightened arousal.”

“Were you?”

“Well, not like in an aroused way. It’s just, adrenaline was dropping by the bucketsful into my nervous system. I didn’t think about it. I just marked them.”

“Ah.”

“Osh said I can unmark Uncle Bob.”

“You can.”

“That’s great. As long as he stays alive long enough for me to figure out how, we’ll be good. And what are our plans for today?”

The wicked grin that slid across his mouth made me rethink any protests I might have for missing half a day of work. Had I known what he really had in store, I would have begged off, anyway.

*

“You want me to put what where?”

Reyes didn’t take me to bed as I’d thought-slash-hoped. But he did take me to the next best thing: a coffee shop. Nothing screamed “I love you” like taking your blushing bride to a coffee shop. Or an ice cream parlor. Or a tractor pull, but only on special occasions.

He leaned closer, the tiny table we’d taken in a darkish corner suddenly way too big. His deep brown irises shimmered, his five-o’clock shadow, the one making an early appearance, framed his sculpted mouth to bittersweet perfection.

Then he repeated what he’d said, and the spell was broken. “I want you to put your hand through my heart.”

Oh, yeah. He’d left the station, headed for Crazyville. “Your heart. Okay, I know you’re a god and all, but won’t that kill you?”

“Most likely. It’s a lesson in control. Here, I’ll show you.”

I jumped back when he reached over the table. I trusted him with my life and my heart, but when both were in jeopardy at the same time?

Then again, he’d been doing the whole dematerialization thing much longer than I had.

“So, you’re giving me a lesson?”

“If you hold still, I will.”

I glanced around. “Should you stick your hand into my chest in a public place? Blatant murder seems more of a dark-alley kind of activity.”

“I’m willing to chance it.”

“Fine.” I took in a deep breath and clenched my hands on the table. “I’m ready. Rip out my heart.”

He laughed and took one hand. Capturing my gaze with his, he turned my hand over and leaned closer, brushing his full lips across my palm.

I felt the soft prickle of his stubble. The smoothness of his lips. The hotness of his tongue.

He had me so focused on what he was doing to my hand, it took me a moment to realize he’d put his other hand on my chest. Let it melt. Let it sink into me.

I gasped. He didn’t just pass through me like a departed would when crossing. He let his molecules separate inside me. Let his heat spill into me like warm honey. First causing a rush in my chest. Then lower. And higher. Everywhere at once.

It moved to the back of my neck, behind my ears, over my lips. At the same time, it dipped into my stomach and then my abdomen and then to the flesh between my legs.

His molecules pooled and swirled until I wrenched my hands free and gripped the table. Dug my fingernails into it. Begged for the storm to come closer. That whirlwind of pleasure. That burst of ecstasy.

I felt his arm wrap around my neck. His mouth claim mine. His tongue brush against my teeth before plunging inside. Hungry. Possessive.

But the pièce de résistance was the energy building inside my core. Like lava bubbling and boiling and ready to explode. I tried not to moan. To cry out as the energy amassed, the pressure nuclear. I failed. Which would explain the hand suddenly clamped over my mouth. The gentle shushing at my ear.

But Reyes took his time. While I almost screamed for release, he kept his strokes, his radiating heat, slow and feather light. Teasing and taunting. Coaxing me closer. Daring me to come.

Unable to sit still, I parted my legs and squirmed against the infusion of energy. I whimpered as he stimulated me from the inside out. As my center contracted and convulsed. As the friction he injected directly into my core caused tiny delightful spasms to quake through me. Until the white-hot orgasm that had started so far away rushed forward at light speed. Slammed into me. Burst inside me, dumping waves of heavenly pleasure until the wetness in my panties grew to urgent levels.

He’d clamped onto me, and when I was finally able to think straight, I realized he was beside me, holding me tight as I seized underneath his expert touch.

But then he removed his hand and grabbed the padded seat at my back. I wrapped my arms around him, partly to steady him and partly to anchor me to Earth as an orgasm rocketed through him as well. It shuddered out of him in splendid, sparkling waves that almost had me coming a second time.

When his climax receded, we sat panting for a long while.

Then I remembered where we were. My eyes flew open, but I soon realized we looked simply like a couple making out in public, which I always thought was a little brash, but holy fuck. I was more than willing to put aside the Charley Davidson Book of Etiquette and Mud Wrestling if it resulted in earth-shattering orgasms.

“Fuck,” Reyes said, laying his head against my shoulder. “That wasn’t supposed to happen.”

“Which part?” I would’ve been heartily disappointed if he hadn’t wanted me to come. Not with the fact that I came, because hell, yes. But with the part where he didn’t want me to reach my maximum potential in any situation.