“Shut up,” I moaned, dropping my head against his shoulder, because he really did smell pretty good and I have to admit, having a big, strong guy carry me up the stairs sort of kicked ass. Even if he was a lying piece of shit. That’s why I didn’t argue when he dropped me down across my bed—hard and ready to go again—or when he pushed my head down low or even that third time in the middle of the night, when he flipped me over onto my stomach.

Suppose when you decide to end a dry spell, you might as well do it right.

GAGE

I woke up feeling smug as hell.

Took a minute to orient myself, and another to remember all that’d happened. I’d spent the night with Tinker, and a hell of a night it was. She was cuddled up tight right next to me, and I looked down to find her face relaxed in sleep. She looked different like this—no less beautiful, but most of the time she wore armor. The whole makeup/hair thing was sexy as hell and suited her perfectly, but it also gave her a layer of separation from the world. I could appreciate that.

My Reapers colors did the same for me.

Still, it felt good to see the woman behind the mask. She was real and beautiful and just a little bit sweaty and smudged—what more can a man ask for? Tinker sighed, then rolled away from me to flop on her back. Her boobs were still covered by the sheet, and I tugged it down slowly to get a better look in the morning light. Not bad. Not bad at all. Her tits were nice and round. Not huge, but lush, and they flattened gently to the sides in a way that made it clear they were all natural.

I traced a finger between them, sliding it down her stomach, taking the sheet with me. Her stomach was soft, and I leaned over to kiss it when something caught my attention.

A thin, silvery line running up toward her belly button. More than one. They were delicate, tracing across her skin, and a thousand questions burst through me because I knew damned well what those were—almost every woman I’d ever slept with who had kids had at least a few.

Stretch marks.

At some point in her life, Tinker Garrett had given birth.

The same Tinker Garrett who didn’t currently have a child. Not a hint of a child. No pictures, no mention, nothing. No clues at all, except for the way she’d lost her shit over the fact that I’d lied about having children.

Balls.

I’d fucked up.

Fucked up bad.

“Hey,” she said, her voice soft and fuzzy. She rolled onto her side, stretching unself-consciously, obviously still half asleep. “What—?”

That’s the exact second she remembered where she was and what we’d done. Squawking, she reached for the covers and pulled them up, smacking my face in the process. Jesus, this was a bigger clusterfuck than I could’ve imagined, and it wasn’t like it’d been simple before. I needed to get in front of the situation—otherwise she’d bolt on me. Fortunately, I had a huge advantage in this relationship because I weighed twice as much as she did, so I rolled over on top of her, pinning her down against the bed.

“Good morning,” I said, kissing her. Tinker twisted her head away, scowling, because of course it couldn’t be that easy with her. That was okay—she was worth fighting for, last night had made that more than obvious. We had some business to take care of first, though.

“So tell me,” I said slowly. “How come you never mentioned that you had a baby?”

CHAPTER TWENTY

Tinker’s face twisted as I asked the question, a mixture of pain and anger running bone deep.

“That’s none of your business,” she snapped. “Get off me and get out of here. Nothing’s changed.”

“Except that I fucked you hard all night and it barely took off the edge,” I replied, taking the opportunity to push my morning wood against her stomach. “I’d love to give you another round this morning, but we need to talk first. This is why you lost your shit when I lied about having kids, isn’t it?”

She blinked rapidly, water pooling in her eyes as she tried to look away. I didn’t let her, though, because we needed to work through it. I wasn’t sure what’d happened to her, but whatever it was had been bad. Really bad. Every instinct I had told me that if I walked out that door without us resolving this, I’d never see her again.

Not an option.

“Tell me,” I whispered, dropping my forehead to hers. “I want to know. I care about you, Tinker. You can trust me.”

“I don’t even know your fucking name,” she said, closing her eyes. “Why the hell would I ever trust you?”

“It’s Gagi Alfonso Leon,” I said bluntly. “My birthday is October fifteenth and my social security number is 625-54—”

“Shut up,” she said, shaking her head, a motion I followed with my own head, refusing to back off. “You’re crazy.”

“And you’re sexy as hell,” I replied, taking advantage of the moment to catch her mouth for another quick kiss. “But we’re talking. I lied to you about a ton of things, but all you focused on was the children. Now I find your stomach covered in stretch marks. I’m missing something here, and I got a feeling it’s something pretty fucking big. Talk to me, Tinker.”

“Okay,” she said. “But you need to back off. Let me get dressed first. We’ll get some coffee and talk about it downstairs.”

“You can get dressed, but we’ll talk about it up here,” I countered. “We head downstairs, next thing I know you’ll kick me out. I’m serious—we need to figure this out.”

“Why?” she asked, sounding tormented. “We had sex. It was fun, but you told me yourself you’ve slept around plenty. Do you interrogate everyone you sleep with?”

“Nope, just the ones I’m serious about.”

“Right,” she said sourly. “And how many girls have you fed that line to?”

“Not a single damned one,” I replied, which was the absolute truth. “Despite what went down here, I’m not usually the kind of man to play games. I like sex. I’ve had sex with a lot of women. Never been too interested in anything serious, and that’s worked for me. Then I met you and it felt different, so I’m gonna check that out. I’m smart enough to see we’re not gonna get anywhere until we sort this out. Get dressed and we’ll talk.”