“I pass them out. At parties. At school. Wherever.” He pauses and lets out a small sigh. “Everybody just assumes it’s because I sleep around so much.”
“Are you really a virgin?” I whisper, and he lets out another little laugh.
“Was a virgin. It’s stupid, isn’t it? The way I act, the way I …” But he doesn’t need to say anything else. It isn’t stupid, not to me. I see him for what he is, someone who likes to help, but who doesn’t dare allow himself to be vulnerable. Someone who claims to be a bad person while behaving the exact opposite. I see a person who isn’t sure who, exactly, he is just yet.
Chasm kisses me again, and butterflies take over my belly, making me feel weightless. My palms press against his bare chest, the beat of his heart a steady rhythm against my skin. He weaves the fingers of his right hand into my hair, pulling me closer with his left arm. My entire body throbs, and I squeeze my thighs to help fight the overwhelming need.
“I brought a towel,” he offers up, and it takes me a second to realize what he’s saying.
“Chas,” I warn, but then I think about the cup that I just put in. The reviews online were pretty good—not that I was thinking about sex when I bought it—but people seemed to think you really could, um, go all the way without any mess or without the dude feeling much but a brush of silicone if he was really deep.
Really deep.
Blood rushes to my face, and I’m thankful for the darkness permeating the room. I don’t need him to see my reaction to my own, pervy thoughts.
“I don’t …” I start, referring to the towel. But Chasm cuts me off, like he thinks he needs to convince me further.
“I don’t want to pressure you into anything you don’t want to do, but I have to be honest. I won’t let Parrish die because some nutjob can see me holding back. And Little Sister, it’s obvious as fuck. I’m sure anyone with half a brain could see it. There’s a reason why Tess believed you and I were a couple so easily. Or why Maxx is angry with me.”
“Or why Parrish brought you up just before we touched each other for the first time,” I add, and Chasm goes still.
“What?”
“Chasm really likes you. Maybe …”
“He … he didn’t think we could be together. He was worried about Tess. When he basically told me no, I asked what was going to happen. He suggested …”
“Parrish, you fucking idiot,” Chasm grinds out, and then he’s drawing me against him and kissing me yet again. This time, his movements are more forceful, like he’s committing us both to this unless I explicitly tell him no.
We end up on the bed with me on top. I’m aware that my Tess-phone is on the tripod atop the dresser, its usual space when I’m at home. Even now, there could be eyes on us. But I can’t allow myself to think about that. This is what has to happen.
But how it happens? And the things that I feel, those are all on us.
As we kiss, I tangle my fingers in Chasm’s hair, experimenting with his lip piercings. I tug on them with my teeth, swirl my tongue around them, suck them into my mouth. He seems to like all of that, groaning and sliding his hands down my back. My thighs spread naturally, my pelvis cushioned against his. When I rock my hips, I can feel everything, the hardness beneath his academy-issued slacks that promises he’s enjoying this as much as I am.
He fists his fingers in my shirt and carefully pulls it up, tearing it over my head and then chucking it onto the floor. The move very nearly breaks me as déjà vu slams into me like a train, but I ignore all of it. I ignore the possibility that Parrish could die, that I’m doing this for nothing, that the Slayer has zero plans to let any one of us live a normal life.
I sit up and Chasm lets out a sharp breath.
“If only we had more time,” he whispers, because we’re doing exactly what Tess warned us not to do. If she goes downstairs and sees that he isn’t on the couch, we’re in big trouble. I locked my door, but that won’t do much. She can unlock it easily, and she’ll just assume that I’ve got something to hide.
Still … that text hangs heavy in both of our minds.
Chasm runs his hands up my bare sides, trailing fire in his wake, and then closes the warmth of both palms over my breasts. He kneads them gently as I tuck my lower lip between my teeth to control the sounds I so desperately wish I could make.
