Page 20 of Fuse

this.

Finally, I dip back down—but only for a second. “You’re inside me now,” I confess. “So deep inside. You’ll never leave me even if you want to.”

And now, certain I’ve chucked my sensibility over the cliff of emotional extremes, I yank back a little further. And get ready to see her silent safe word climb all over her features. And then prepare a couple of my fingers to zap into the locks on the cuffs, setting her free to deal with my extreme ramblings—which I’ll refuse to take back even if she really does decide all of this, and all of me, are too much to handle.

But I won’t—I can’t—take back a fucking syllable. Because it’s all the truth.

Which is why I’m blown away when a dazzling smile inches over the elegant hills of her lips instead. And then just goddamned jubilant when listening to the sweet, sensual words she forms with them too.

“Inside. That’s a damn good one for I, isn’t it?”

I start my answer with a slow, sultry smile. Add my touch in the form of adoring strokes to the edges of her forehead before curling my fingers in to smooth the hair back from her face. Nothing can get in the way of getting a long, lingering view of her incredible turquoise eyes. “Well, now my bunny’s hopping with the program.”

As she giggles at my tease, I kiss my way down the center of the face that truly is embedded everywhere inside me. The gentle sweep of her nose, with its perfect flare at the end. The high, proud cheeks that always flush when I say something too filthy. The tiny valleys of her dimples, which turn into entrancing indentations when I make her laugh aloud. All of her, so soft and silken and smelling so damn good, to the point that my head is spinning all over again by the time I’m suckling my way down the graceful slope of her neck.

The muscles beneath my questing lips go tight for a second, constricting with a deep swallow before vibrating with the words she rasps to me. “S-So…wh-what’s J?”

I lift my lips just before getting to the hollow of her neck and freeing a shuddering breath against her skin. If the gang at Schoolhouse Rock ever heard the letter J get her husky treatment, K would’ve never gotten his day in the sun.

But right now, it’s my turn in the sun—translation, in the embrace of this woman’s legs—as she wraps her softness and warmth and life and passion around me. Making me understand all the reasons the ancients bowed in worship of the sky’s most fiery star. She’s my bright, blazing obsession, her heat drenching and slicking me as I stroke a couple of fingers through her throbbing pussy—and then torturing my cock with a harder, hotter rush of my blood.

The arousal turns my reply into words of throaty reverence. “J and K have their turns together.”

“Oh?” Her new laugh is softer, but her new body rolls are urgent and damn near demanding, causing the cuffs to clink against the headboard. Holy God, that has to be the most erotic sound I’ve ever heard in my life—followed by the hottest sight, as I watch the perception broadside Emma at the same time. The artery in her neck thumps harder. Her nipples turn the texture of hard red candies. Her chest pumps as she struggles for steady breaths, let alone the words she tries to form with undulations of her kiss-stung lips.

Finally, she gets it out in a serrated murmur, “J and K…why’re they so special?”

I slide my head back up, tracing the gorgeous curves of her creamy features, until our noses are less than an inch apart. “Isn’t that obvious?” But before she can insert the full force of her puzzled scowl, I crash in, accepting nothing less than a sucking, savoring, saliva-drenched kiss that has her helplessly moaning, writhing—and yes, clinking—for me. I finally drag myself away long enough to justify, “Juicy kisses,” before plunging back for another of these hot, deep, perfect mind-benders—which, for all the emphasis on mush and wetness and tongue, impacts my cock like a sword sent into the forge. I’m hard as steel but trapped in heat, my leathers doing a damn good job of keeping the lightning in my erection contained. Trouble is, the arousal has nowhere to go except back where it came. I’m swollen to the point of agony, tempered to the edge of samurai readiness—which I prove with another crush of a kiss, sucking her tongue hard against mine, ensuring her senses are sliced open with the surety of what I plan on doing to her next.

“Oh, God.” Her high sigh bursts up from her throat the second we break apart. Our breaths are thick and labored and nearly synched, an outward sign of how linked our minds and hearts and libidos are too. “I love you so much, Reece.”

I take her lips again but purposely keep my tongue where it belongs this time. “And I’m damn glad, my little Bunny.” Then sweep my lips across the silken plane of her forehead. “Because I love you too—so much that it fucking scares me. All the damn time.”

Little furrows form beneath my mouth. “Really?”

A short chuckle. “Yeah, really.”

“But—”

“But what? You don’t think I see the hundred reasons why you wouldn’t want me anymore? That I don’t mentally count them down to myself every damn day?”

She jacks her head back. Impales me with an aqua glower. “Well, stop that!”

A fuller laugh now. Has that order really just come from the woman handcuffed to our bed and pinned beneath my body? “I can’t stop all those thoughts any more than you can control what you see between Angelique and me, okay?”

And yeah, I just went there. Because yeah, in so many ways, it’s a damn elephant in the room. It has been since up on the ridge, a fact I recognized from the moment we all returned to the house—and likely should’ve addressed with Emma then and there. But like an idiot, I pussied out to her “I need space” vibe instead—and wound up as the enabler for her bruise instead of being the hero who soothed it.

Not. Anymore.

That motivation spurring me, I brush my fingers through her hair with gentle determination. Thankfully, the motion helps my erection stand down its revolt against my pants. Well, a little. “In some ways, what you’re torturing yourself with is even worse, woman,” I finally go on, sticking to the unflinching message. “I’m not bound to Angie by anything more than our mutual grief over Tyce—”

“And the fact that she’s been to Camp Consortium as well?”

“Not something we’re reminiscing over with s’mores and Fireball, okay? But the rest of it is fiction in your head, Emma. I guarantee it. And one day, I promise you’ll see that for yourself as well. But I, on the other hand, will never stop waking up most mornings like a freak pop-up toy, or turning raindrops into atmospheric pinballs, or making you feel like my personal Lite-Brite board every time I come at you with stars in my eyes…”

“I love the stars in your eyes.” She lifts her head, blatantly begging for a new kiss despite the rebellion I’ve sparked in her gaze. “And I love being your Lite-Brite.”

Though I deny her the kiss, I lap at her with the tip of my tongue. She opens her mouth wider after I slide along the seam of her lips, gasping softly as I take soft, wet jabs into her delicious, dark depths.