Oh, he does.
He kisses me like it’s the last breath he’ll ever take. Long and slow, sweet and demanding. He leaves me breathless, and just when I think he’s going to take me–he leads me to the couch, wraps me into his warm body, and tells me to sleep. That he’ll be there in the morning, that he has no plans on leaving ever again.
And God help me I believe him.
Chapter Ten
Clay
The first thing I smell is smoke.
Not the faint whiff from Ember’s favorite camp-scented candle, or the remnants of last night’s fireplace embers. No—this is acrid, thick, and wrong.
I jolt upright from her couch, bare feet thudding on the hardwood as I move to the front door.
The sky’s dark, but not from nightfall. Orange flickers lick up from the east window—Mrs. Vance’s house next door. Jesus.
“Shit,” I mutter, yanking the door open and sprinting across the yard. The fire’s already crawled up the front porch. Flames twist through busted boards and shattered windows.
“Mrs. Vance!” I shout, scanning for movement. No answer.
Behind me, Ember’s voice cracks through the air. “Clay!”
“Call it in!” I bark without looking back. “Stay here!”
She doesn’t respond, which is both typical and infuriating. I shove my shoulder into the front door—it creaks, groans, and gives way, heat blasting me in the face like a damn furnace.
“Mrs. Vance!” I cough, pulling my flannel over my nose. The smoke’s thick. The place is a maze of fire and half-collapsed beams, but I move fast—if she’s in here, she doesn’t have long.
I make it to the hall when a beam crashes from above.
It hits hard.
Pain explodes through my shoulder. The world tilts. Heat licks at my skin, but it’s the smoke that wins—it pulls me under, tight and fast like a fist around my throat.
Everything fades.
My lungs ache.
There’s shouting. Coughing. Something warm, solid, dragging me backward.
And then a voice.
“Don’t die on me. Please don’t die on me, Clay.”
I blink. Her face swims into view—Ember. Eyes wide. Soot streaks her cheeks. Her fingers press against my neck like she’s checking for a pulse.
“Em...” I rasp, grinning despite the burn in my chest. “Guess we’re really engaged now.”
She makes a sound halfway between a sob and a curse, gripping my shirt like she’s anchoring herself.
“You asshole.”
I try to sit up, but pain lances down my side. “You okay?”
“I’m not the one who ran into a burning house like a damn lunatic!” She’s crying now, angry and beautiful, mouth trembling. “You scared the hell out of me.”
I lift a hand, cup her jaw. Her skin’s warm, soft beneath the soot. “You make me want to live, damn it.”
