Page 109 of Fury

I shoved at him with my leg. “You’re such a shit, Turo. You have Ciara. You have so many women to choose from all the time, and I’m sure you do just that.”

He nipped at my inner thigh, and I bit down on my lip. Was he chastising me? His tongue grazed over the bite, and a hot rush of sensation swarmed through me. “None of them are you.” He didn’t grin smugly or laugh. His face was etched with something else, something somber, something dark.

I hadn’t been with anyone since Finger. I just couldn’t, and I had no urge to be. I didn’t deserve to feel any spark of happiness or relief, not even for the short time it would take to get off. I wanted to keep a clear head. No distractions. No noise. I didn’t want any kind of physical intimacy with anyone; it almost seemed trivial in the scheme of things.

I’d been in a kind of limbo this past year, but now I was really moving on. If Finger ever got out of jail, he would probably try to find me. But after what I’d done, he’d never want any part of me.

Why not make it final, that separation? Not just on paper with my new name and identity, but physically as well as in my head? Unglue Finger from me.

Was that even possible?

I should try. Shove myself over that edge and crash.

Turo’s mouth laid a dangerous trail up my thigh, and I grit my teeth.

“Let me fuck you, gorgeous,” he whispered in the semi-darkness, his light colored eyes gleaming up at me. “Let me give you what you need. You and me. This has got nothing to do with business, or anything or anybody else. I want you. I’ve wanted you for so long. You know I have.”

“I know,” I choked out the whisper.

“I’ve been a gentleman all this time. I’ve been good to you.”

Turo had been good to me. He hadn’t been sleazy or pushy. Slightly flirtatious, suggestive here and there, but the man had style. He had gauged me well. He knew better than to push me. There had been knowing looks, but no raunchy comments, or actual physical passes, and he could’ve tried so easily. Any other man in his position would have. He also could have forced himself on me like I’d expected him to from the very beginning.

But he didn’t. He hadn’t. Not once. He was a tightly tuned instrument of the highest caliber, its music eerie.

“I’ve missed you. Really missed you.” Another kiss hovered a hot breath away from my core. “Say yes, angel.”

My heart thudded in my chest, my every nerve on fire.

“That animal hurt you. What he did to you—” he said on a hiss.

Huh. He thought I was hesitating because I still suffered from post-Med sexual trauma. Maybe I was, but that wasn’t the reason my weary claws held onto the edge of my cliff.

“I’ll kill him for you,” he said. “I will.”

I touched the side of his face. His skin was smooth, flawless under my fingertips, and a piece of my heart broke at the velvety sensation. “It’s not him, Turo. It’s someone else. The man who saved me, who risked everything for me. He’s the…”

My eyes filled with water and, like acid, dissolved the images of Finger I had stored there. Turo’s grip on my legs tightened, and his warm tongue lashed slowly at my slit. I cried out, my lungs crushing together.

A groan escaped his throat. “Say yes, say yes,” he said against my skin, his voice hoarse, insistent.

The great divide was before me: The no going back. The change it all forever. The smash yourself to bits and march over the pieces, sink your own ship as the band plays on.

I nodded.

He pulled me in closer, tighter, deeper, and took me fully in his mouth. I squirmed in his grip, and he reached up and ripped the robe off me, yanking me down to the floor.

He was no gentleman now. He was aggressive, forceful. He was loud.

I’d always imagined that as a trained assassin, Turo must be extremely still, quiet, and patient in the line of duty. He had to be. But not now. Now, he was the ravenous lion finally consuming his long hoped for prey. Vehement. Unstoppable.

On the floor of that studio, Turo tormented my body and punished my soul with his generous violence.

My heart shattered into shards of jagged glass, dripping with my own blood. Everything sped past me in a whirling blur.

I was the blur, circling the rusted drain of me.

30

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