Bring Me to Life by Emma Weylin

arm around her, pressing his wide-palmed hand against the flat of her belly. Her scent enticed him to lower his head and rest his chin on her shoulder. He pushed aside her fiery hair to take a taste of sweet flesh. Her body shivered under his touch. He grinned. “Everyone can be saved, my Bryna. You just have to want it.”
    “But I—”
    “Shh,” he murmured against her ear and then nipped along the side of her throat. He slipped his other hand around her to cup one of her beautiful breasts. “Your life is mine to save.” He pressed light kisses along the side of her neck. “I will do whatever I have to.” He tugged at her earlobe before he whispered, “You want it.” He lightly dragged his fingers up her arms and cupped her shoulders. “Tell me you want it.”
    *
    She did, but what she wanted wasn’t the life he tried to offer. Her head tilted involuntarily to allow his mouth better access to her tender spots. He knew each one and how to coax a needful moan from her lips. His hands slid down her arms and then to the hem of her shirt. He dragged the material up over her head and tossed it aside. His skin was warm, and even though his hands were calloused, they felt velvet soft as they ran over the flat of her belly, pulling her back tight up against his front. He kneaded with soft fingertips before they skimmed along her rib cage to mold over her breasts. His thumbs flicked over aroused nipples. He nipped the tender spot just behind her ear.
    “Tell me you want me,” he coaxed as he captured her earlobe with his teeth. “Tell me.”
    She relaxed against him and let out a soft moan. “I want you.”
    His hand slid over her body. Touching, kneading, feeling. God, how she wanted him. She started to turn in his arms, but he stopped her.
    “Let me feel you,” he whispered against her ear. His lips trailed over one shoulder, across her back, and then down the other. Both of his hands cupped her breasts as he gently rolled her nipples between his forefingers and thumbs. She pressed her body into his, her hips rhythmically grinding.
    He groaned with need. “You’re hot.” He slipped one hand down her belly. “Are you wet?” If she thought her jeans would hinder him, she’d have been wrong.
    She should tell him to stop. Neither of them needed this hanging between them, but she was starving for the one thing only he could give her. “Yes,” she whispered. “Need you.”
    Her breath caught when he unfastened her jeans. His hand slipped past the denim. She squirmed against him when his fingers dipped into cotton panties. They easily found moist heat. His mouth tempted and teased the sides of her throat, the back of her neck, and her jawline. He held his free hand flat against her belly, pressing her into him as he stroked inside of her, his thumb flicking across her most sensitive place. She sighed and squirmed. Death would be sweet if this was the way she could go, with Vincent making her blind with need.
    “Vincent,” she moaned.
    “Don’t talk,” he whispered against her ear. He walked them forward until they were right next to one of the queen-size beds. She gripped his forearm to hold her balance. She trembled when he pulled his hand out of her panties and slowly turned her around to face him. He used the back of a knuckle to gently caress the side of her face.
    “Need you.” The words came out in a guttural tone. He stepped back from her and dragged off his shirt, letting it join hers on the floor. His eyes moved over her, and then he reached up to lightly touch one of her breasts. “So soft,” he murmured. “Always beautiful.”
    She looked up at his scarred face, and her bottom lip began to tremble. She couldn’t do this with him, not when she’d allowed others to touch her. Her eyes went wide, and she was about to push him away.
    He touched his lips to hers. “I need you,” he whispered against her mouth.
    Thoughts of stopping him vaporized when his head lowered, and the warm heat of his