Time crashed into us, heightening the pleasure that exploded inside me. Every muscle tensed as the raw energy of orgasm spiked and pulsed and shook the world around us. A low growl erupted from his throat, and he clutched the plastic beneath us as his own climax shuddered through him in great, powerful waves.

He whispered a few choice expletives from between clenched teeth, and I couldn’t have said it better myself. By the time he collapsed on top of me, only the shimmering remnants of pleasure remained, like tattered pieces of a forgotten star.

He slid his weight off me to lie by my side. His lashes resting on his cheeks. His mouth swollen and sensual.

“So, was it good for you?” I asked him.

He shook his head. “I faked it.”

“Really? So did I. I guess we’ll have to try again.”

A slow grin spread across his face. “Okay, but the tarp has to go.”

“Deal.”

19

I’m one step away from being rich.

All I need now is money.

—MEME

We talked all night. And ate Reyes’s amazing bourbon chicken. And discussed … everything. He answered anything I asked, and though I had no idea why he was opening up now, I was never one to look a gift horse in the chops.

We’d gone from the Twister mat to the sofa to the bathroom sink—long story—and finally ended up in bed. Bed was a massive four-poster of rustic gray woods and smooth, tasteful lines.

He asked a lot of questions, too. I explained about Heather, the homeless girl who’d been cursed, I’d mentioned in my drunken stupor at Satellite. Told him where we were on that case. And then I told him about my actual case.

Since he didn’t work for the police in any way, I told him who’d hired us, mostly because I wanted to explain the other remark I’d made while inebriated about how Nick Parker has a file on us and Beep. How he was currently using it to ensure my cooperation on his case, but that it wasn’t necessary, because Fiske truly was innocent of the charges against him.

But Reyes’s interest snagged on the fact that Parker had a file on us. The apartment almost exploded around that time. I was forced to take Reyes’s mind off Parker by flashing him Danger and Will. Totally worked. My girls always came through in a pinch.

But I knew Reyes well enough to know that he would not let that one drop. Not for a minute. And he could make things very sticky for us and our extremely delicate situation. The last thing we needed was a full-blown investigation into something that could get us both thrown in prison. I was pretty sure falsifying birth records and giving your child away was illegal.

I tried to feel him out as delicately as possible about the whole god thing. It was one thing for me not to know I was a god, but for Reyes, who’d been Rey’aziel in hell and then Reyes here, who’d been alive in his current state of mind for centuries, to have no clue. He was either playing that one very close to the bulletproof vest, or he really and truly didn’t know.

It was getting late, but sleep was the furthest thing from my racing mind. Apparently that was not the case for Mr. Sugar Buns. He lay back, closed his eyes, and threw an arm over his forehead, his favorite sleeping position.

I could hardly have that. So, I crawled on top of him and started chest compressions. It seemed like the right thing to do.

“What are you doing?” he asked without removing his arm.

“Giving you CPR.” I pressed into his chest, trying not to lose count. Wearing a red-and-black football jersey and boxers that read, DRIVERS WANTED. SEE INSIDE FOR DETAILS, I’d straddled him and now worked furiously to save his life, my focus like that of a seasoned trauma nurse. Or a seasoned pot roast. It was hard to say.

“I’m not sure I’m in the market,” he said, his voice smooth and filled with a humor I found appalling. He clearly didn’t appreciate my dedication.

“Damn it, man! I’m trying to save your life! Don’t interrupt.”

A sensuous grin slid across his face. He tucked his arms behind his head while I worked. I finished my count, leaned down, put my lips on his, and blew. He laughed softly, the sound rumbling from his chest, deep and sexy, as he took my breath into his lungs. That part down, I went back to counting chest compressions.

“Don’t you die on me!”

And praying.

After another round, he asked, “Am I going to make it?”

“It’s touch-and-go. I’m going to have to bring out the defibrillator.”

“We have a defibrillator?” he asked, quirking a brow, clearly impressed.

I reached for my phone. “I have an app. Hold on.” As I punched buttons, I realized a major flaw in my plan. I needed a second phone. I could hardly shock him with only one paddle. I reached over and grabbed his phone as well. Started punching buttons. Rolled my eyes. “You don’t have the app,” I said from between clenched teeth.