Page 74 of Fuse

I set down my wine. Meet her gaze directly again. “Let me prioritize that part, okay?”

She twists her fingers through mine. “You’re my priority.”

I send a gentle smile. “I know that.”

“So just for the record, if she fucks with you, she fucks with me. I’ll design a new achievement patch and stitch it right onto her Pixie Stick backside before unloading a full clip into it.” She tilts her head, but the move is as unwavering as every word that just spilled from her. “What?” she finally blurts, challenging what must be the rise of bewilderment in my gaze.

No. Not bewilderment.

Utter astonishment.

The woman is fucking serious. Down to the last syllable.

I clear my mind for the dilemma we really need to address. The query that intensifies as she leans in, giving me some serious side breast viewing pleasure.

“I’m just wondering… How am I going to survive the remaining three courses of this meal if you get any sexier than you are in this moment?”

She runs the tip of her tongue across the seam of her lips. “Who says I’m hungry for the rest of this meal?”

With that, I am damn sure I’m the guy in the restaurant with the hugest boner.

And the heart closest to exploding.

And the soul flying closest to every star in the sky.

And the body that now moves past the controls of my mind, rising and yanking her up with me. Making our excuses to the waiter—something about wanting to stretch our legs between courses—before I haul her into the darkness, sweep her off her high-heeled feet, and don’t let her down until I find that perfect tree. The one I’m going to smash her against as I do nasty and lustful things to her body…starting with sliding my hand beneath her dress and then shoving aside the center panel of her panties before lunging up and in with one finger. Then two. Then three…

“Reece!” Her gasp is gorgeous. She repeats it in time to the compressions of her walls around my fingers, as all ten of her digits dig into my shoulders despite the slick fabric of my dress shirt. I twist my hand, adding to the friction on her delectable pussy. There’s a fresh tang on the air, smelling wholly of the aroused nectar she’s coating all over my fingers. “Reece. Yes! Deeper. Harder. Reece…Reece…”

“Reece. Reece!”

“Hell. Maybe we should give him a few minutes to reacclimate, Foley.”

“We don’t have one minute, let alone a few, Trestle. Just in case you’ve forgotten?”

“I’m just saying—”

“If it’s not a suggestion for waking this bastard up, I don’t care about what you’re ‘just saying.’”

“All right. You want a real suggestion?” An impatient huff. An answering one, more resigned. “Stop smacking his face.”

“And what? Play some Zen sleep cycles so his chakras are in the proper order for optimal biorhythms?”

Yet another huff, though a wary one this time. I’ve exited enough of my mental fog to recognize the sound when Foley makes it. God knows, working full-time for me the last ten months has given him full opportunity to refine the sound. It’s the exhalation he reserves for the times he’s double-checking his grip on reality right before agreeing to do something that wasn’t included in his “Essential Private Eye Duties” manual. Knowing him, that damn manual really exists too.

“Mmmppph.” It sounds much better in my brain, but it’s a start. “Mawww…mooo…fuhhh…” But on the bright side, hearing my voice chorusing through my head with the vocal grace of a porg is the perfect incentive for unsticking my tongue. “Wh-What’s…going on?”

“Oh, thank fuck.” The spew is from Foley, positioned off to my right, while Alex’s distinct chuckle comes from somewhere near my feet. I’d open my eyes to confirm all that, but the light penetrating my eyelids is already a ruthless glare, sending the porgs still left in my brain into more screams.

“Ah! Progress!” The new voice in the room, accompanied by the plastic rustle of a poly lab coat and a disposition brighter than a Bollywood score, would be distinguishable even if I were still in the damn coma.

In the coma…

I’m able to rear back, almost viewing myself lying here, and recognize the perception for what it is. For the first time since waking up, my consciousness connects to the comprehension. I’ve been…gone…for a while. But for how long? And why?

The answers are so vital, I’m willing to sacrifice my comfort, sketchy as it is. But the second I crack open my eyes, comfort is definitely a foreign concept. Maybe that’s a good thing. With my heartrate jacked from the light blast, my brain also goes on warp speed. At once, it remembers the last time I felt all this at once.

I was on my back and staring up at the ceiling of the downstairs office. Foley was gawking down at me, looking a lot like he does now, messy and intense and wearing a scowl infused with that metaphysical shit he likes borrowing from his favorite Muse tracks. But Alex and Fersh weren’t the ones with him. It’d been Angelique and Emma. Angelique with her new radio wave powers and Emma simply with all the power. Ruling me. Sustaining me. Guiding me.