As we sat there, the door opened, just barely, and a hand slid inside and dropped a set of keys on a side table."Thanks, Garrett!" I called out.He gave me a thumbs-up and closed the door."How do you suppose he knew we were performing sexual favors on each other?" I asked, snuggling against my man again."Possibly because you screamed my name about seven times.

There's another part, an obstinate part, that wants more. That wants Dutch live and in the flesh. That wants her hand. Her mouth. Her hips under mine. It wants all of her. Every last ounce. Body and soul.

If he didn't hate me so much and he wasn't an evil supernatural being, I'd be on him like black on Cookie's toast.That woman could not make toast.

The regular I both feared and salivated to see was names Reyes Farrow. Where others exuded aggression, deception, and insecurity, he literally dripped confidence, sex, and power. Mostly sex.

I still had my hand on his side, careful not to press. He reached out and hooked a finger into the belt loop on my jeans. It felt so natural, so fulfilling, to be there with him. To talk with him as if we did it everyday. As if we'd been doung it every day for years. Not even the heat of Ian's fury could penetrate the warmth I was getting from Reyes.

I essentially killed those men. Am I slated for hell?"He stepped to me. Put his fingers underneath my chin. Raised it until our gazes locked. "You're a god, Dutch. And the reaper. You don't get slated. You are the slate.

You still owe me a million dollars." I'd presented him with a bill for proving his innocence and getting him freed from prison. He had yet to pay. Couldn't imagine why."Yeah, I was hoping we could work that out.""The interest alone is going to kill you.""What do you charge?""Three hundred eighty-seven percent.""Is that ethical?""It's as ethical as my dating the son of Satan.

You know?” he asked.“Yes. I know what I am.”“You – you do?”“I’m a time traveler.