Page 48 of Fuse

Again through the interference of providence, I smile. Or maybe I just think I do. No matter what, something like humor floods through me. “G-Glad we’re both on…the s-s-same page.”

He stops. Stares hard. Damn it. No man should look this hot with dread wrenching his face and tears shimmering in his eyes. “What the hell are you—”

“I am going to die, baby…unless you sh-sh-shut up and listen. And then st-st-stop and th-th-think.”

He exhales hard. Gawks at me even harder. “Think about what?”

“A-A-About how you need to h-h-help me.”

He grinds so hard for air, I wonder if both his lungs have been stabbed by rogue electricity too. He rears up but only by a few inches, looking tormented about even that distance. “How?” he demands. “How, Velvet?” As his voice cracks, so does my hammering, failing heart. “Tell me what you need. Tell me! I’ll pull out my own fucking heart if you can take it and use it. My lungs. My air…”

His anguish is what my fortitude needs. And my determination. “N-N-Not your heart or your lungs, baby.”

“Then what?” he grates out. “How?”

My hand is still on his arm, my fingers digging in next to his wrist. Still, my teeth grit and my face twists as I focus on lowering my hold…

Directly between his thighs again.

“You…you know how.”

Guided by my raw desperation to live and my utter certainty that this man is the way to that life, I work my grip along his entire length—relief drenching me as his flesh pulses and grows for me. Comes back to life for me…

“You kn-know what I need, Mr. R-R-Richards.” As I grip him tighter, I look up to lock his gaze with mine. “You kn-know what elixir I can drink to be whole. You kn-know what you need t-t-to do…to be my hero now.”

Chapter Four

Reece

She’s got to be fucking kidding.

Or totally insane.

Or completely right?

The rebuke isn’t coming from the rage in my heart or the sorrow in my soul. It’s a dictate from my head, backed by the surety of my sharpest instincts. Yeah, the ones I’ve honed on missions throughout the last year, engaging the shitheads in the worst parts of town.

Only this time, I’m the goddamned criminal—being given a path to redemption by the one angel who should have no mercy for my soul.

Even crazier? She wants to bring me that redemption with my cock in her mouth.

Even more ludicrous? I actually see the wisdom of her plan.

I want to deck myself for even thinking it—of course you “see” that wisdom, you foul dickbrain—but even if the plan included me getting grinded from head to balls in a meat processor, I’d be just as willingly joining my fingers to hers, preparing myself for the ordeal. I’d be clenching my teeth just as tightly, fighting to ignore the strain of her skin and the struggle of her breathing, to keep myself erect. I’d be breathing just as hard and fast to keep as much of my essence inside, to give as much of myself to becoming her life force again.

To saving her life with my life…

“Lie back, Emmalina.” I hate my chilled tone, and her little shiver proves she’s not a fan either, but if I’m to get through this without second-guessing my every move, it’s necessary. Time isn’t a luxury right now. Getting inside her is.

As soon as she’s flat in the dirt again, I scoot up her body until my balls graze her chin. Christ, she’s so pale. How the hell am I going to do this to her? Why is she going to let me?

“Open your mouth.”

Jesus fuck. Just like this.

“Wider, baby. More. Take more of me.”

She’s so tight. So wet. So perfect. Even more so as she expands the back of her throat to get even more of me in, until I’m hissing with a mix of torment and heat and pressure and pain. I buck my hips as my soul sobs.