and de-rezzed the lamp on the end table beside the sofa. The living room was plunged into deep shadows.
Turning, he stretched her out on the sofa beneath him, peeling off her clothes with quick, urgent motions. Sensual psi flared hotly in the darkness. Her own senses quickened in response. She could feel the rush of sexual hunger that was heating his blood. It burned through her, as well, creating an urgent ache deep inside. A moment ago she had been intent only on getting him into bed. Now all she could think about was getting him inside her.
Invisible energy sparked and flashed between them. He got her blouse open and went to work on the waistband of her trousers. She managed to unfasten his shirt, put her arms around him, and stroke the warm, tight skin of his muscled back. He unbuckled his belt and got rid of his trousers and briefs in a couple more swift, efficient moves.
She reached down between them with one hand and curled her fingers around his rigid length. He made a sound that was part groan and part hungry growl.
The next thing she knew, he had pushed up her knees and slid halfway down the length of her body. When she felt his mouth on her, she gasped, half-shocked and wholly thrilled. She sank her fingers into his hair.
The glorious, glittering, throbbing release hit her like a blast of high-powered alien psi, rocking all of her senses. She grabbed one of the pillows and slapped it over her mouth to stifle her thin, high shriek.
Davis surged back up her body and buried himself inside her. It was an act of possession and desperate need. He yanked the pillow away from her face and kissed her throat. His thrusts were heavy and powerful and fast.
A moment later he raised his head. Every muscle in his body was tensed as though he was some great, wild beast about to bring down prey with a killing blow.
His climax struck hard. She put her hands around his neck, pulled his face down, and kissed him, swallowing his roar of satisfaction.
When it was over, he collapsed on top of her, crushing her into the sofa cushions.
“Can’t get enough of you,” he whispered against her breast. “I could come just by looking at you.”
She smiled into the shadows, trailing her fingertips along his damp skin. “More fun this way, though.”
“Oh, yeah.” He did not open his eyes.
She edged herself out from beneath his crushing weight and tugged on his arm.
“Come on, Davis. It’s time to go to bed.”
“I’ll just sleep here,” he muttered into the pillow.
“No. You need a good night’s sleep. You won’t get that here on the sofa. It’s too small for you.”
“What about you? Where will you sleep?”
Most of the languid satisfaction she had been savoring faded. I prefer to sleep alone. Don’t take it personally.
“I’ll use the sofa again tonight,” she said. “It works fine for me.”
Grumbling, he rolled off the cushions and allowed her to steer him down the hall to the darkened bedroom. She pulled back the covers. He fell into bed, closed his eyes, and was instantly asleep.
She pulled the sheet and quilt up over him and went back into the living room to the open balcony door. She spoke softly to Max and Araminta.
“Are you two coming in tonight?” she asked.
They hopped down off the balcony and tumbled into the apartment. She closed the door and locked it very carefully. She checked the cookie jar one last time to make certain the relic was still safely stashed inside, and then she went to the hall closet, took out a pillow and a blanket, and arranged them on the sofa.
For a long time she lay there looking up at the ceiling, Araminta a heavy little bundle of lint beside her.
“The thing is, I do take it personally,” she said to Araminta.
Araminta opened her baby-blue eyes and blinked a couple of times.
Celinda gave it ten more minutes before she pushed aside the blanket, got up from the sofa, and went down the hall to the bedroom. Davis was sleeping so soundly when she got into bed beside him that he never even stirred
HE CAME AWAKE TO THE SENSATION OF A HAND ON HIS shoulder.
“Wake up,” Celinda said. “You’re dreaming.”
He opened his eyes and saw that a pale dawn light was replacing the green glow of night outside the window.
He looked at Celinda. “What are you doing here?”
“It’s my bed, remember?”
“You slept on the sofa.”
“Changed my mind. By the way, you will notice that I’m not screaming.”
“What the hell?” Still dazed with sleep, he levered himself up on his elbows.
She glanced down. He followed her gaze. His forearm from elbow to wrist was invisible. The fingers of his seemingly unattached hand gripped the rumpled sheet.
She held out her own hand, palm up. “You owe me ten bucks.”
Chapter 34
“SOUNDS LIKE YOU’RE TALKING ABOUT TITUS KENNINGton.” Martin Skidmore lounged deeper into his padded leather chair, folded his hands across the broad expanse of his belly, and regarded Davis with an expression that contained a mix of disgruntled competitiveness and reluctant admiration. “What can I say? The man’s good. He managed to snag a couple of high-end clients right after he opened up for business. Overnight he went straight to the top. Referral only.”
Skidmore’s office was located in a shiny tower not far from the headquarters of the Cadence Guild. The discreet sign outside the door announced that he was a psychic lifestyle counselor. He was the third therapist on the list that Davis had put together. He had limited the names of those he wanted to interview to counselors who clearly catered to a high-end clientele on the assumption that Hollings would have gone after the same market. Anyone who could afford a lifestyle counselor had to be pretty well-heeled. If they actually stumbled into Hollings working under an assumed name, Celinda would recognize his psi energy.
“What kind of counseling does Kennington do?” Davis asked.
Skidmore’s expression twisted in disdain. “I’ve heard he calls it dream therapy. Bunch of guru-babble, if you ask me. But there’s no denying he hit an amber mine. I hear he’s even got Senator Padbury’s wife as a client.”
“Do you know where his office is located?”
“Over on Burwell Street in the Old Quarter. Don’t know why he set up shop there. It’s not the most fashionable address in town, that’s for sure. Maybe he likes the atmosphere.”
“Maybe.” Davis got to his feet. “You’ve been very helpful. The Guild appreciates your cooperation.”
“Any time. Always happy to do a favor for the Guild.”
“I’ll mention that at headquarters.” Davis turned to leave. He stopped briefly at the door. “What does a psychic lifestyle counselor do?”
“I can help you explore your unique para-rez potential and guide you toward a truly fulfilling and satisfying life on both the normal and paranormal planes.”
“Cost a lot to get all that?”
Skidmore smiled benignly. “Of course.”
Davis let himself out into the reception area of the office. Celinda was waiting for him.
“Well?” she asked, rising quickly.
Davis savored the hit of anticipation that he always got at times like this. “Nailed him. I’m going to his office now. With luck, I’ll surprise him and maybe get some answers or evidence.”
“I’m coming with you.”
“Damn it, Celinda—”
“I’m the only one who will be able tell you for sure whether he’s the man whose psi waves I read that night
