PREVIEW

... tionally unstable.

Climaxa—the literal Goddess of Orgasms—was behind him, kneading his shoulders with fingers made of starbursts and sin. Her touch felt like every dirty dream he'd ever had got a PhD in seduction.

"Relax, Henry," she purred. "The universe is slippery when tense."

Henry tried to focus. But it was hard. Very hard. And so was he.

"I just wanted a nap," he mumbled, trying not to stare at Climaxa's gravity-defying chest, which bounced like twin galaxie ...

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