Assassins: Slow Agony Part 44

When he stopped, he put my hand on his crotch, and I could feel how hard he was through his jeans. His voice was husky. "I want to be inside you."

"I want that too," I whispered.

We made love with our faces inches apart and our eyes wide open. I could feel every movement he made inside me, every gasp, every breath. It was desperate and intense. We were swirled up in a whirlwind of tantalizing pleasure. We were joined. Connected. Together.

I made love to Griffin, and I was part of him. He was part of me. We were something beautiful and exquisite together. We were touching the stars. Whatever we'd had to do to be together, it was worth it.

When we were done, when we'd each found ecstatic release in the other's body, when we'd fallen from the heights of outer s.p.a.ce back down onto the floor my apartment, he didn't move out of me. We stayed joined, both gasping, sweating, touching.

He entwined my fingers with his. "Doll, I don't think that darkness was inside us."

"What?" I didn't know what he was talking about. I was still in the afterglow, and I couldn't think what he meant.

"What we did to him. Marcel."

I could feel myself shrinking from him.

He grasped my hands tightly, keeping me close. "No, listen to me. I think he put that darkness in us when he hurt us. I think when we killed him, we gave it back to him. I think we poured it out into him, and he took it. We buried it with him. And it's gone."

I could feel Griffin starting to soften inside me. I brought my thighs tighter around his hips, keeping us as connected as I could. "Do you really think so?"

"Yes."

I kissed him hard.

I wish it was easy after that. I wish that we planned out our wedding, and that we started popping out babies left and right, and that we lived happily ever after, and that we rode into the sunset on a pale, white horse or some s.h.i.t.

It wasn't easy.

For one thing, I couldn't stop all my little rituals. I wanted to cut myself. It made me feel at peace. When I cut myself, for several minutes, I had no guilt. It was a very scary thing to try to leave behind. Griffin wouldn't let me out of his sight, yelling at me when I tried to take the knives when he wasn't paying attention. He made me leave the door the bathroom open when I used it, which was a heretofore unprecedented level of intimacy between us. But he couldn't trust me not to cut. And it took a long time before the urge went away.

Even after it did, I still lit candles three times a day for months on end. I had to scale it back, lessening the amount slowly until I could completely stop.

It had taken me only four months to get myself stuck in the rituals. It took twice as long to give them all up.

And Griffin woke up with nightmares almost every single night for the first few months we were back together. He'd be wild with terror, clinging to me in bed. He woke up screaming sometimes, and those screams were so hollow and horrible they tore out my insides.

They got better with time too, but it was a lot of time, and they never really went completely away. Sometimes, he'd go without one for months and then wake up with a particularly bad one.

When he had those nightmares, he couldn't always go back to sleep afterwards. He and I would sit up together somewhere where the light was bright. He would shake. Sometimes he let me hold him. Other times, he would shriek at me if I tried to touch him.

It wasn't easy.

But I think it was easier because we were together. I'm not saying that Griffin's presence magically healed me or something. And I sure as h.e.l.l know that I didn't make him okay just by being around. I guess what I mean is that I worked harder to keep myself together because I knew he was depending on me. Like I was more important because he loved me.

I'm not sure if that makes me pathetic. I think it makes me human. When I was trying to fix myself so that I'd be able to help him, I just wallowed in my own fears. I didn't make any progress. I slipped deeper and deeper away from reality. Griffin was like an anchor. I cared about him, and because I knew he needed me, I cared about me. Maybe that's twisted. Maybe I should have found my own well of strength deep down someplace, like the women in those Oprah book club novels always do.

But that wasn't Griffin and me. We were too damaged and screwed up for stuff like that. We made it together, and we were stronger together, and we depended on each other.

Maybe we found some time in there to plan a wedding too. Well, maybe I did.

Griffin himself didn't seem particularly interested in the kinds of flowers we'd have in the bouquets or the colors of the bridesmaid dresses. I had to rely on Sloane and Beverly for insight.

The wedding was going to happen. Someday soon. Someday when we felt like we weren't struggling just to sc.r.a.pe through the days.

And that was getter better.

Every day, it was.

And every night, I fell asleep next to him, our bodies twined together, his lips against my skin, murmuring that he loved me, that he needed me. Every night, I whispered it back.

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More New Adult from V. J. Chambers

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The Toil and Trouble Trilogy Zombies, the magic mafia, and a love triangle: Getting hot and heavy with Brice Ventresca is a drunken mistake, something that becomes very clear to Olivia Calabrese when the clock strikes midnight and he turns into a berserker--a rage-filled monster who tries to kill her.

Invoke Reese and Wyn, two psychic students at a special college, never intended to fall in love with each other. But an exercise in the spirit realm has gone wrong, and now malicious spirits have taken over their bodies, intent on recreating the doomed love of Guinevere and Lancelot.

Horror: Brighter Post-college angst. Unrequited love. Body-s.n.a.t.c.hing monsters.

Keep reading for a sneak peak at The Toil and Trouble Trilogy, Book One.

The Toil and Trouble Trilogy, Book One

Chapter One.

"Why'd you drop out of school, Calabrese?" asks Brice. He's lying on the bench inside the dugout of the community baseball field behind The Shakespeare Theater. It is close to midnight. Hours ago, Brice and I were in the opening night performance of Macbeth . Most of the other members of the play are over twenty-one, and they have all abandoned the opening night party for bars. Brice and I have been drinking backstage for over an hour. We have been drinking too much and too fast, but we don't realize this, because right now, it feels too good to be buzzed drunk in the night air.

I am sitting up, looking at the dark baseball field through the chain link fence around the dugout. "Family stuff."

School gets in the way. No one takes you seriously when you're always trying to do algebra homework. And I've been trying to convince the family that I'm serious about taking over the family business while my dad's in jail.

"Too bad."

"Why? You sad you never got to ask me to prom?" I ask. Brice is one of those guys who really spreads it around. A real ladies' man. Player. Whatever you want to call it. Generally, I'd steer clear of him, but tonight, I need a distraction. And being seduced by Brice Ventresca is better than thinking about watching Joey Ercalono gasp on his own blood because my first shot didn't do the job properly.

He chuckles. "Maybe."

I snort. "Whatever. No one asks me out."

"Because they're afraid of your cousins," says Brice. "You're always walking around with half a dozen thugs. You think a guy doesn't get the message that if he gets within a foot of you, those guys will break his face?"

I look down at him. I haven't ever thought of that before. Maybe my cousins do scare off guys. "I just figured I was b.u.t.t ugly."

Brice sits up a little bit to crack open another beer. "Yeah, that's part of the male gender's evil plan. We're in a conspiracy to convince all girls that they're unattractive. It makes it easier to get into their pants."

I shove him. "a.s.shole."

His beer spills. "Hey!"

I just laugh.

Brice pushes himself into a sitting position, rubbing at the beer that's spilled on his shirt. "You should apologize, you know."

"I'm sorry you're an a.s.shole."

"Hey, f.u.c.k you, Calabrese."

I keep laughing.

Brice takes a big swig of his beer. "I was going to tell you that you were the farthest thing from b.u.t.t ugly that I could imagine. But now that you've insulted me and spilled beer all over me, I don't think I will."

I open another beer too. "Well, that's sweet of you, Ventresca."

"Why don't you call me Brice?"

"Why don't you call me Olivia?"

He shrugs self-consciously. "Teachers at school always called you by your last name, I guess. Besides, it fits you. You're all tough and everything."

I start laughing again. "Oh, tough, huh? You know, Brice, I really expected you to be better at this, given your reputation and all."

He leans his head against the back of the dugout. "What are you talking about? Better at what?"

If I weren't so drunk, I'd be too embarra.s.sed to say any of this. "At, you know, getting in my pants."

He sits straight up, and beer sloshes out of his can again. "That's what you think I'm trying to do?"

"You're not?" I feel disappointed, but not mortified, the way I'd be if I were sober.

"No, back up." He sets his beer down. "You thought I was trying to put moves on you, and you were cool with that?"

I shrug. "It's been a bad day."

Brice is staring at me. He doesn't say anything. He picks his beer up and takes a drink. Then he sets it on the ground. He scoots closer to me on the bench.

I can smell the beer on his breath. I tense up, but don't move away.

Brice's arms come around me. It seems so natural the way one arm encircles my shoulders and his other hand settles on my waist. His face moves closer.

I slam my eyes shut. This is happening , I think drunkenly. This is actually happening.

Brice's lips are against mine. His tongue is in my mouth. It's nice. It makes me tingly. Tentatively, I move my tongue against his. Ooh. Nice. Even more tingles.

Abruptly, Brice pulls away. "What did you mean, my reputation?"

I struggle to even remember what he's talking about. My first kiss has dazed me. I've thought about kissing guys before. Sure I have. But if I'd known it was going to be that nice, I would have tried to make it happen before. Plus, I'm thinking, if I'm reading everything right, that all I had to do was tell Brice I wanted to, and he was all about it. Maybe this whole thing is way easier than I thought. I stare at him blankly. "Reputation?"

"You said I had a reputation. What are you talking about?"

Oh. Right. I had said that, hadn't I? What does it matter? I just want Brice to kiss me again. "You know, you're Brice Ventresca. You're always with girls. You're like a player or whatever."

"I am not," says Brice. He picks his beer back up again. "I'm totally stupid with girls. I dated Megan Pettacia for like three years, and we only broke up like two months ago. And since then, I've only like..." He takes a drink of his beer. "Do you really want to have s.e.x with me?"

I giggle. I can't help it. I am completely wrong about Brice. He's as clueless as I am. I hold up a finger. "That would probably be moving way too fast." My voice sounds slurred, I realize. I am drunk. Good. At least I'm not thinking about Joey Ercalono.

Brice nods. "Yeah, totally."

"After all, who wants to be the girl who had her first kiss and lost her virginity all in one night?" I drink some beer. I look at Brice. "Do you think that would be s.l.u.tty?"

"Uh..." Brice shrugs.