“Give the Slayer whatever he wants and then … when Parrish comes back …” Chasm pauses, and seems to choke on his own emotions. “We end this. We cut it off, no matter what, and we focus on him.”
“You’d give me up that easily?” I whisper, wondering why I’m even asking such a stupid question. Of course this thing between us would end when Parrish comes back. It only makes sense. I want Parrish. Nothing has changed about the way I feel for him. The only thing that’s changed is that my feelings for Chasm have grown so much stronger.
“Not easily, no,” he replies, kissing me again and working his hand against me in just such a way that any further words I might want to say fade behind a warm blanket of need. It sweeps over me as I dig my fingers into his hair, massaging his scalp and enjoying his natural scent as it takes over my senses. Dark chocolate and peppermint with the faintest hint of tobacco. It gives him this edge, reminds me that he isn’t quite so sweet as he seems.
He had his female friends beat Lumen up, punched a guy in the face for me, was willing to deliver a dead girl’s body.
There’s an iron core inside of this boy that I find myself drawn to like a magnet.
Now that Parrish’s life literally depends on me exploring these emotions, I let it all go. I gather Chasm against me as he withdraws his hand, making a small sound of protest that causes him to chuckle in a dark, hazy sort of way, like he’s drunk or something.
“One second, naekkeo,” he growls out, sitting up and undoing his pants. He doesn’t bother to take them all the way off, just unbuttons and unzips them, shoving them down his hips with impatience. He pauses only briefly to withdraw a condom from one pocket.
I can so easily see it now that he’s said something. Him, at all those parties, taking care of drunk girls and passing out condoms. And he thinks he’s a bad person? Oh, Kwang-seon.
“What does that mean?” I ask, my voice a little shaky, a little desperate sounding.
“Naekkeo?” he asks with an annoyingly cocky smile. It’s almost too dark to see, but the faint light from outside catches on the edge of one of his lip studs, making it sparkle. “It means mine.” He hands me the condom package, purposefully curling my fingers around it. “Even if that can’t be true, I can pretend. At least for right now, I can fucking pretend …”
His words are an odd echo of what Parrish said to me: “It was easier to pretend, Dakota.”
Although I feel like this situation is the exact opposite. Pretending like this, allowing us to truly fall for each other, it’s a dangerous, dangerous thing.
I’m going to do it anyway.
I open the condom package, taking the sticky ring into my fingers, and then I give Chasm a look.
“Put it on,” he says, waiting for me, watching me. He licks his lower lip as I put my hands around him, unrolling the condom so slowly that he actually makes this frustrated hissing sound. “And this is exactly why I begged you to stop touching me.” Chasm snatches my wrists as soon as I finish, bringing my hands to his lips for a kiss but taking great care with my splinted fingers. He presses his mouth to either of my pulse points before releasing me. “I’d love to taste you, but I guess that can wait until after …” He gestures randomly, and I raise my brows.
He assumes that we’ll be doing this for the length of my period and then some.
I guess it all depends on how quickly we find Parrish.
Chasm drops his mouth to mine again, covering my body with his own and shivering as I trace my fingers down his bare back. I’d love to see his ink, to ask about it, but I’m not sure if I’m ready to do this with the lights on just yet.
There’s just enough mystery in the dark, just enough quiet to pretend that our feelings for each other exist in a wholly separate world, one where there is no taboo. Where we’re doing nothing wrong. Where we can let ourselves have this.
My thighs spread for him as Chas settles himself against me, kissing the side of my neck again, his fingers playing with my hair. He takes his time warming me up, turning my body to molten fire before he lines himself up with my opening.
It’s the polar opposite of what we did in the maze earlier.
He enters me slowly but completely, not stopping until we’re pressed together, and I forget how to breathe all over again. He stays where he is, stroking my hair back, pressing his cheek to my head. We relax like that for a minute, fitted together, our hearts beating rapidly against one another. I can feel the thrumming of his pulse as I trace my fingers down his neck, drawing them down his back to ass.
