Fuse

by Angel Payne

  The fuses that turn her lips into a teasing, tantalizing little smile.

  “‘Bite my tongue,’ Mr. Richards?” she jibes back in a sultry drawl. “What, are you asking for permission or something?”

  I cock my head and arch a brow. “Depends on what the answer is, Miss Crist.”

  Her stare drifts down to my lips. “Don’t you think there’s always room for another bite? Or two?”

  With a savoring growl, I lower my head once again. It’s not only the most direct path to that perfect bow of her mouth; it’s the fastest way to show her just how thankful I am—for all of this. For all of her.

  What a woman the universe has given to me.

  To me.

  Sometimes I still can’t believe it. Other times, it feels like fate’s most logical and loving wisdom. Who else but Emmalina Paisley Crist could have taken my broken soul and healed it—and saved her own damn life in the process—with the magic of her complete, crazy, near-death trust stunt? The woman has to be the bravest, boldest, most batshit bonkers person I’ve ever met.

  But I’m pretty sure people have said that about every other miracle worker who’s ever lived as well.

  I just thank God—and whoever the hell else helped Him create her—that this miracle is all mine for the rest of time.

  Several hours later, after I’ve carried her home from the canyon and gotten her into a shower and bed, I still can’t stop staring at the woman. And yeah, unbelievably, attempting to blame it on the sorcery of the summer winds and the crystalline moonlight instead of the truth that barely tries to hide itself at the forefront of my psyche.

  I’ve never been deeper in love with her.

  And have never been more terrified of losing her.

  What I did with her out in the canyon…

  What I did to her…

  Before I can help it, a grunt rips up the lining of my throat. By the time it hits my clenched teeth, the sound makes barely a dent on the air, but with my pillow crunched next to hers and my chest bracketing her left arm, it’s enough to make her stir and fidget.

  “Sssshhh.” Another sound that barely brushes the air. “Sleep, my Velvet.” My miracle. My love.

  “Ummmph.” She purses her lips and furrows her forehead but doesn’t open her eyes. When the space above her eyebrows doesn’t even out, I skim my mouth across that creamy plane with mist-soft care, listening to make sure I don’t wake her again. There are times when the woman can sleep like the dead, but then she’ll have a night like this, barely tiptoeing around the REM cycle, resulting in me getting too growly and protective of her.

  Like now.

  “Damn it,” I mutter as soon as I lift up, seeing that my tender midnight care has been as effective as a bull sneaking through a china shop.

  “Well, hi there yourself.” She’s already back to flinging as much sass and sardonicism as she did in the canyon. Trouble is, cocky Bunny 2.0 is just as sexy and cute as the first version.

  Despite the admission, I’m unwilling to give up the cautious handling. It feels good—right—to treat her like a blown-glass treasure. My treasure. “Go back to sleep,” I urge in a whisper. “You’ve still got a lot of hours.”

  She strokes a couple of soft fingertips along my jaw. Asks in just as sibilant a voice, “Did you finally get in touch with the mayor?”

  I dip a fast but tight nod. “About an hour ago. Troy’s holding up well, considering the circumstances.”

  “And the city?”

  “Not so well.” My lips are tight, and my head throbs with fresh tension. “Death toll’s shockingly low, since so many took off early for the holiday, but the structural damage is severe. He’s calling an emergency city council meeting later tomorrow—well, today—and has asked me to be there.”

  She hums in quiet approval. “You need to go.”

  “And you need to get some more sleep.”

  “Pssshhh. I’m fine.”

  “Velvet…”

  “Pssshhh.” She punches more fervor into it though backs up the gentle rebuke by rolling to her side and curling an elbow under her head. With her free hand, she strokes down the middle of my chest. “I was barely sleeping, and you know it.”

  “Says the woman barely holding back her yawn?”

  “Says the superhero’s girlfriend who’s been dealing with the universe’s most unique…hammer…knocking at her stomach?”

  I narrow my eyes as she rewards herself for the humor with a soft giggle. “Says the bunny taunting the wolf when he’s trying to keep the hammer in his pants?”

  “Says the wench who’s asking why?” Her sweet little whine penetrates where her sarcasm didn’t: the core of my cock. I swallow hard, ordering the damn thing back to a reasonable status. Barely. “The bunny enjoys this wolf, remember? Besides, a wolf wielding a hammer isn’t something a girl sees every day.”

  The little minx finishes that doozy by openly palming the hump between my legs. Before I can contain it, a moan tumbles off my lips. My sweats are as effective as rice paper for blocking the spell of her touch, especially as she strengthens her spell by looping one thigh up and over my hip. Dear fuck…this temptress. After the shit shambles of what went down in the canyon tonight, I’d have bet both my balls that she’d want nothing to do with them ever again, but here she is with her soft strokes, her clean scent, her hypnotizing warmth, and her husky breaths…roaming all of them over me until I’m clenching and shuddering beneath her kisses and touches. Until my fingertips are gently sparking and I start doing the same to her.

  For long minutes, we explore each other like that. Igniting every shadow of the room with the magic of our connection. Turning the night into an electric day with the ignition of our fusion. Caressing and sighing, discovering and revealing, arousing and awakening…

  Until she inserts her amazed whisper into the few inches between us. “You’re so beautiful.” Then seals in her truth by lifting her mouth to mine, tracing her tongue across the seam of my lips. “Never more so than now.”

  “Damn.” My amazement isn’t as eloquent as hers. Doesn’t feel that way, at least. I concentrate harder, forcing more relevant words into existence. “What’s…beyond beautiful?”

  She frown-laughs. “Huh?”

  “Because that’s you, Velvet.” I grunt softly. “This life of mine…” Then shake my head and restrain a bitter laugh. “Well, ‘insane’ is putting it all mildly. It’s meant never knowing what hell or heaven the day is going to bring—and having to bank much more on the shitstorm instead of getting to ride off into the sunset.” I slide a hand up to grip the back of her neck while lowering my forehead to hers. “But before you came along, Emmalina Crist, I’d forgotten what the sun even was.”

  A high sigh leaves her. Her whole form softens. “Reece…”

  I break into her protest with a dip of my mouth. No way can I hold back any longer from claiming her with the full, passionate torrent of my mouth. Truth be known, I crave her with so much more, but this is enough for a start. More than enough, since she yields her lips with willing openness and softness, communicating how she already understands my need…with molten desire of her own.

  Oh hell, yessssss.

  We continue with slow, savoring rolls of our tongues…and soon, with sliding, sensual rolls of our bodies. And while my heart thunders against my ribs and my blood rushes like a flash flood, I’m actually able to pull back before my cock does the talking instead of my will—a gold star I instantly smack onto my composure report card. I’ll take those goddamned stars wherever I can get them, even if she does press back in at me, so pliant and pretty and smelling like summer wind as she pleads, “Reece. Oh, baby…”

  I let her feel the upturn of my smile as her whisper flicks through the corners of my mind. It blends with all the other rasps I’ve hoarded there over the last twelve months.

  Okay, Mr. Richards.

  You like that, Mr. Richards?

  Ohhhh…now that I like…

  And I like it when you
do that too…

  Oh, dear God, Reece. And that too!

  I love you, Reece.

  I love you so much.

  There are so many more, but those are the ones I choose to stop at, drawing breath so I can repeat them to her with every force in my body and strand of my soul.

  Except that my memory hasn’t gotten the departure notification yet.

  You’re mine, Reece Richards. All mine.

  And has completely jumped tracks.

  How I shall enjoy this, cariño.

  Into a tunnel with an echoing Spanish accent.

  No. Not just any Spanish accent.

  Her Spanish accent.

  You are not going to escape me, Reece. Ever.

  I twist and lunge up, planting elbows on my upraised knees and parking my sweaty face in my trembling hands, fighting to let the angel of my present banish the demoness of my past. Of course, it helps that Emma’s already rolling back up next to me, filling her arms as fully with me from the second I reach for her, releasing a long sigh as I pull in a huge breath.

  “What is it, my big bad wolf?” she asks with just the right mix of tenderness and tact.

  I pull her closer and inhale even deeper, ensuring every pore of my being is drenched in her succulent summer scent, before I murmur into her hair, “Nothing, my sweet, soft bunny. Just a few ghosts.”

  Her quiet sigh warms the base of my neck. “Ahhh. Those.” Then adds a cute bell of a laugh. “Well, maybe they need to be banished with a little distraction.”

  “Hmmm.” I finish it with a growling nip into her shoulder. “A distraction sounds good…though I’m not quite sure how ‘little’ I can keep it.”

  The laugh becomes a saucy giggle. “You still threatening to wield that magical hammer, mister?”

  “Perhaps.”

  “But you already have the magical Bolt Jolt necktie.”

  “Well, you know…” I trail my mouth down from her shoulder, setting a clear course for one of her gorgeous, puckered nipples. “We superheroes and our special toys…”

  “Which means…what?” she charges. “Do I need to be set straight about the differences between magic hammers and magic neckties?”

  I pause the journey of my lips long enough to let a snarl vibrate in my throat. “Fuck.”

  She responds with a throaty giggle. “I think that can be arranged, Mr. Richards.”

  I drop a hand around her ass and squeeze hard. “If I wasn’t going to hell before…” That’s as much as I can get out before she counters my move by tucking her head in and nipping into my neck.

  “Well, if you’re going…” She soothes her bite with soft, lapping licks as I slide my hand back up, burying my fingers in the white-blond silk of her hair. “I volunteer as stowaway.”

  I twist my grip until she lifts her head and our gazes are locked. She’s so fucking stunning, bathed in moonlight and surrounded by our rumpled bed linens. Surrounded but not covered. I have a full, perfect view of her puckered berry nipples and her graceful, tapered ribcage. “You’d really do that?” I demand, shooting up a mock glower. “Hitchhike on my ride?”

  “No longer just yours.” She juts out her chin while spreading a hand to the center of my chest—and I try not to fixate on the proximity of her innocent pink nail polish to her dark, tight areolas. “We’re in this together, mister. All of it. Partners, remember?”

  I take a deep breath. It’s more like a rough grate, but it does the job of keeping me alive for at least how long my answer is going to take. “Woman, I can barely remember how to breathe with you this close and sweet and soft and—”

  Well, hell.

  Maybe breathing’s overrated. I don’t miss it one fucking bit as she plunges her mouth over mine, zinging her tongue over my own with such perfect, pulsing passion, I wonder if I’ve dared to get naked with a live circuit box. The heat through my mouth and tongue are soon fire in my blood and nerves, turning my limbs into flares, my senses into napalm, and my cock into a ray of daybreak several hours too early.

  But between her gorgeous mewls and her lunging tongue and her passionate breaths, the woman sounds very much like a morning person.

  I give her half a second to refill her lungs before initiating the next kiss. And this time, I make it a kiss, twisting until she gives in and rolls beneath me, sighing as I ram my mouth hard down on her. Into her. Devouring her like a goddamned shelf of truffles, exulting in every incredible texture and flavor and cream, before pouring my ravishing roar down her welcoming throat. It’s ecstasy to feel the sound drench every inch of her writhing body, until even her toes flex and knead against my thighs and ass.

  When we pull apart again, we’re both inhaling hard. I take advantage of the pause, reveling in the riveting sight before me, better than any fucking sunrise on earth. Her lust-swollen breasts. Her kiss-bruised lips. And her eyes—always the sorcery of her eyes—so brilliant and bold with their torrid blue flames…

  “My beautiful bunny.” I’m shockingly smooth about it, considering how every striation of my body practically thrums out loud for her—then louder still as she quirks half a smile before her seductive murmur of a reply.

  “My magnificent Zeus.” She peeks up through the thick fan of her lashes. “Is there…something I can help you with?”

  “Damn.” I go domineering with the tone, but the little temptress has given me no fucking choice. “You’ve gotten me as hard as a real hammer, woman.”

  “Then maybe it’s time for you to pound.”

  “No matter what the consequences?” My tone is lethal as I grab her by the hips, intentionally holding myself away from her. “Hammers can kill, damn it. And—”

  “Yours almost did exactly that,” she finishes on a taut bite. “I know. I was there.” With an impatient sweep, she palms the side of my face. “But we’re not going to start doing this every time I need you inside me.” As she claws my hairline, her lips part into an utterly erotic pout. “And Mr. Richards…I need you inside me now.”

  “But—”

  “But what?” Her stare becomes a heated glower. “It was a glitch, Reece. And then you saved me.”

  “It wasn’t a fucking little glitch.”

  “But then you saved me.” She turns her grip into a command, strong and severe, before dragging me down for her equally strict kiss. But within seconds, the lock of our lips evolves into a hot, hungry meal of our mouths at each other. When our tongues are done excavating each other’s throat, she reiterates in a gorgeous growl, “You saved me, baby—just like I know you always will. Just like I’ll always save you.” She wraps her other hand to the back of my head. “Because that’s what we were put in this world to do.” She roams her gaze, now the color of a twilight sky, across my whole face. “I’m fused into you, mister. Hardwired to love you, to know you, to put up with you—and yes, to save you, no matter how many more ‘glitches’ we have. You got that, mister?”

  I huff hard while dipping my forehead against hers. Thing is, I got it from about the second she said fused to you, but the central conflict in my soul hasn’t changed. If anything, with her naked glory so close, I cut right to the chase on my comeback. “I don’t have anything if I don’t have you.”

  She yanks me down again. And again, we take each other’s lips in a delving, decadent mash of lust. At once, whatever reprieve my erection was granted has been rescinded, and my heartbeat calls to hers with a wild windstorm rhythm. The tattoo of hers answers right away, pulsing in time to the urgent jerks of her sweet, sweaty breasts against my chest.

  “Then have me, you stubborn stick of greased lightning,” she finally breaks away to pant. “And if you kill me, you can hitchhike on my ride to hell.”

  As I’m certain she’s planned, the irreverence arrests me, dazzles me—and enflames me. But on the outside, all I give her is a slow reprobate smile.

  Right before I deftly flip her over, toss her facedown into the pillows, and press my mouth to the base of her neck. I dig my teeth in while rolling
my hips with wanton intent.

  “Aaahhh!” Her protesting shriek is lost in the pillow as the soaked lips of her pussy surrender to my defined incursion.

  “You want to play with the hounds of hell, Velvet?” I channel just enough electrons into my cock to make it come alive with intimidating heat—and deliver a jolt that already has her screaming through her first climax. “Think I’ve met a few of those in my time and even remember a few key moves.” Urged by her perfect little clenches, I nuzzle her ear and settle in for the hot, tight ride. “I’ll play nice if you will.”

  Chapter Five

  Emma

  “Come here.”

  It’s totally illogical yet perfectly wonderful that even after the man’s rocked me through four orgasms, his soft sandpaper growl flips my stomach like a basket of butterflies—just as he upends us, deftly rolling to his back but taking me along for the ride.

  Though I don’t have much choice about compliance, it doesn’t matter. I let out a happy gasp, all too elated to let gravity do the work of keeping us locked together. The longer we remain as one physical being, maybe the clearer he’ll get the point that I’m not willing to give up the status in other forms as well.

  You’re mine, Reece Richards.

  No matter what this existence throws at us.

  You’re mine.

  My man. My purpose. My light. My life.

  And, if the universe wills it, my death too.

  “Tell me.”

  His whisper brings me back to the moment. “Tell you what?” I mumble, cuddling my face against his neck.

  “Whatever has your mind whirring so loud, I can practically hear it.”

  I laugh softly. “Hmmm. Just pondering the mysteries of the universe.”

  “Hmmm. That all?”

  “A girl has a tendency to do that after a hound’s dragged her to the best damn ‘hell’ she’s ever experienced.”

  “Because she’s not really a girl?”

  “Errrmm…excuse me?”