“So, it’s a good thing?”

“That part of it is, yes.”

“Because sometimes the way you react … you’re positive I don’t look like a monster? Like, maybe, a Chucky doll?”

“A Chucky doll?” he asked, baffled.

“Yes. I always had a fear growing up that I looked a little like Chucky. Something about the jawline. And you are, too, by the way. A very good thing. Okay, I think I’m ready.”

He repeated the instructions, telling me to shift as far as I could. I did, and I watched as the scene before me turned from the soothing neutral colors of our apartment to the raging colors of the otherworld. The storms swirled around us. Lightning struck close by, and I jumped.

But Reyes wasn’t watching the intangible world. He was staring at me and continued to do so a long moment, gazing into my eyes as I took him in. His smooth skin. His dark lashes. The otherworld intensified everything about him.

“Now, imagine you’re floating away one molecule at a time.”

I tore my gaze off him and focused on my fingers.

“Start at the tips.” He brushed his thumb over my palm. It caused a quake deep in my belly, like they were connected by a string. “Let the molecules go.”

He opened my hand, leaned forward, and blew softly on my fingers. His warm breath penetrated my skin and whispered through it.

“Let the molecules go,” he repeated, and slowly, atom by atom, my body began to dematerialize. It started with my fingertips. He blew again, and they flew into a gold vapor around me until Reyes’s hand slipped through mine completely.

Astonished and terrified—mostly terrified—I snapped back to the tangible world, the weight of my body taking shape again.

“That was amazing,” I said. I glanced back at him, and his brows were drawn into a severe line. “What?”

He blinked back to me. “Nothing. Sorry.”

“Oh, no, you don’t. We said no more secrets. What’s wrong? What did I do?”

“You’re right. It’s just … your color.”

“Now you’re racist?” I teased.

“No. It’s just—”

“Is there something wrong with it?” I asked, alarmed.

“No, not at all. I’ve just never seen it before. Anyway, you did it. And you can do more, as your recent trips would suggest.”

“Reyes, how do you not just fly around all the time, checking shit out?”

He laid his head against the headboard and laughed. “I do sometimes, but my life is on this plane.” He brushed his fingertips over my palm again, studying me. “I love every inch of you.”

My heart melted, and I hoped it hadn’t dematerialized and rematerialized somewhere else. That couldn’t be good. I turned in to him. “I love all your inches, too.”

He bent to kiss me but stopped halfway to my mouth. “I almost forgot.”

Before I could ask what, he rose from the bed and walked out of the room, flashing me his ass. I fought the urge to sigh. And snap a few photos.

I lay back and listened as he walked into the kitchen. If he pulled out the utensils again … But he came back with a bottle of champagne. The view this time was even more spectacular.

“I almost forgot. It’s our anniversary.”

“What?” I asked, bolting upright. “We’ve been married a year already?”

“Not that anniversary.”

“Oh, whew. So, on this day however many years ago we … kissed for the first time?”

“Nope,” he said with a smirk, opening the bottle with a loud pop.

“We … celebrated the first spine you’d severed in my defense?”

“Nuh-uh.” The bed dipped with his weight as he eased back onto it, turned me over, and poured champagne in the small of my back.

The icy liquid stole my breath and sent a shock wave rocketing through my system. I squealed and buried my face. “Cold. Really cold.”

But his tongue was already on my skin, warming me as he drank the sparkling wine. Then he poured it between my shoulder blades, and it ran straight down to pool in the small of my back again. I shivered and then sighed as his mouth lapped it up.

“The first time we drank champagne together?” I asked.

“No,” he said, concentrating.

“The first time we landed on the moon?”

“Nuh-uh.” He nipped as he drank, causing spasms of pure delight.

“Wait, is it my birthday?”

“No.”

“Is it your birthday?”