Page 43 of Crusher's Illusion

TWENTY

FAULT LINES

CRUSHER

Her lips taste like salt and smoke and the kind of promises people break when they’re scared. But Nevaeh isn’t pulling away, not this time.

Her breath hitches as I pull her closer, letting my hand slide down to her hip, anchoring her, like maybe that will keep her here. Keep us from blowing apart again.

Nevaeh deepens the kiss. Slow, searching, desperate. It’s not about sex, it’s about survival. About holding onto something real while the rest of the world spins with blood and betrayal.

I lift her, and she wraps her legs around my waist, pressing herself against the hardness behind the zipper of my jeans. Blindly, I walk us up the two steps of the old porch, open the door, and carry her inside, closing the door behind me with the heel of my boot.

I press Nevaeh’s back against the cabin wall, my hands cupping her jaw like she might vanish if I let go. Her pulse thunders beneath my thumb, and it’s not fear, it’s want.

Her hoodie slides off her shoulders and puddles on the floor. My fingers hook the hem of her shirt, dragging it upward, andthe fabric catches for a second on her ribs. She shivers, not from the cold, but from the way my touch slows, letting my palm smooth over her side. The bruises are fading, shadows of what she’s been through. But the scars under the skin I recognize, because they’re mine too.

“You sure?” I ask, my voice low and rough. My forehead rests against Nevaeh’s for a beat, like I need her answer to be carved in stone. “I won’t rush this.”

Nevaeh’s fingers curl in the front of my cut, pulling me closer until there’s no space left between us. “I want this, Erik. I wantyou.Even if it’s the worst idea I’ve ever had.”

That earns a broken laugh from me. “Then we’re finally on the same page.”

We stumble toward the bed, shedding layers of clothes and logic. Her hands map every bare inch of my skin, like a reporter cataloging truth, but there’s no agenda in her eyes, just an ache. Just need.

I push Nevaeh back onto the mattress, bracing over her, my body caging hers without pressing her down. Her skin is warm under my palms, her breath hitching when my mouth finds the curve of her throat.

I take my time sliding my hand down her stomach, hooking my fingers in the waistband of her jeans before pulling them off slowly, like I’m unwrapping something I’ve wanted far too long. She lifts her hips, impatient, but I hold her still for a beat, meeting her eyes.

“Tell me to stop, and I will,” I murmur. Nevaeh’s answer is to drag me down and kiss me like she’s trying to burn the words out of existence.

I shift my hips and grind against her, causing Nevaeh to moan, and I swallow them. I tweak a nipple, and she bucks, pressing into me.

“Stop teasing me, Crusher.” Nevaeh pleads.

“Erik,” I growl against her throat.

“What?” She pants as I lavish her breast with my tongue while my other hand slides down her body to the apex of her thighs.

“When we’re like this, I’m not Crusher, I’m Erik.” My fingers sink inside of her, and she releases a long groan. I flick, push, and curl them inside of her, driving her wild.

“Please, Erik, I need more.” My name rolling off Nevaeh’s lips snaps my self-control.

I pull my hand away and settle between Nevaeh’s thighs. I sink into her like a man starved, her nails catching on my shoulders as she pulls me deeper. The air between us turns hot, heavy, every shift of her hips drawing a groan from me I can’t bite back. She gasps my name in a half-plea, half curse, and it undoes me.

It’s not frantic, but it’s not gentle either. It’s somewhere in between. Slow enough to feel every inch, hard enough to make her toes curl. She meets me move for move, breathless, lips parting like she’s about to speak and then forgetting how to form words.

When Nevaeh comes, it’s with her head tipped back, my name breaking from her lips like a secret she’s not supposed to tell. I follow her over the edge, the sound of her moan dragging me down with her.

For a moment, neither of us moves. I just stay there, inside her, our foreheads pressed together, while our breathing slows. My hand finds hers, fingers lacing without me even thinking about it.

“Still the worst idea?” I ask quietly.

She smiles, tired and a little wrecked. “Ask me again in the morning.”

I roll onto my back, pulling her with me until she’s stretched across my chest. My arm wraps around her automatically, mypalm resting between her shoulder blades. She tucks her face against my neck like it’s the safest place in the world.

And for tonight, I let her believe it is.