Page 83 of Pulse Zero
Seven years of too many reminders, of trying to move on from a man I thought was dead. And then he walked back into my life like he’d never left, shadows curling at his feet, accusing me of burning his world to the ground like he hadn’t done that exact thing to me.
How can he not know what he does to me?
How can he not see it?
That I hate that it’s nothishands on me, that it’s his shadows touching me instead of him.
Because the worst part of all of this, the part I never managed to fix no matter how many years passed, is that it was always him. Even when he was gone. Even when I thought I’d watched him bleed out on a concrete floor.
It was still him.
And now he’s standing right in front of me, alive and furious and close enough to touch…
But he still won’t.
And I fucking hate it.
“Reese,” I whimper, trying to twist away, but the shadows still hold my wrists firmly against the wall. “Please.”
The darkness tightens just enough to keep me exactly where I am.
Pinned.
Helpless.
His gaze travels down my body, following the path of the shadows like he can feel everything they’re doing. Which, considering they somehow feel like an extension of him, he probably can.
They keep exploring, brushing across my ribs again, my chest, my arms, my thighs. Tracing the lines of muscle and bone like they’re memorizing them. Everywhere the shadows touch, it feels like they’re claiming territory. The dread pulses, a low, suffocating pressure that makes my lungs feel too small.
And somehow, that only makes the heat under my skin sharper.
I squirm against the wall. Shiver. Whimper. And when the hands move over my hard cock and I can feel the weight of them through my jeans, I throw my head back and moan.
I don’twantto like it, but…fuck, the feeling of hands everywhere is kind of fucking with me.
Whether it’s in a good or bad way, I’m not sure.
One thing I do know is it feels fuckingamazing.
“You get the shadows or nothing at all.”
Reese’s deep voice reaches me from somewhere through the confusion and desire and doubt. My gaze snaps to his, and my breath fails me at the sight. His eyes are dark, pupils blown, lips parted. I peer down long enough to see the bulge in his black slacks. My mouth fucking waters.
But then my eyes slam closed again when the hands stroke me over my jeans, applying more pressure, friction, grabbing, squeezing. My dick throbs, wanting fuckingmore.
“What’s it going to be, little menace?”
I crack my eyes open to look at him, panting heavily, gasping for breath for an entirely different reason than the last time he was in this room.
“Fuck you. Fuck you! Just…fuck.”
I throw my head back again, resting it on the wall.
And then I just…give in.
“Please just make me come.”
When the shadows pop the button of my jeans and lower the zipper, I don’t blink. There’s no longer any shock at what they’re capable of. They slip under the waistband of my boxer briefs, and a cool, ethereal touch wraps around my cock, pulling it free.
