I release his arm, raise my hand to his face, and run my knuckles along his cheek.
He relaxes into my touch. “Funny. This should be more confusing than it is, but I’m not confused when you’re touching me.”
“Me neither.”
I can’t hold back anymore, and nearly as soon as I move toward him, he’s coming at me before our lips are mashed against one another’s. I hook my arms around him, pulling his torso against mine as I savor his delicious mouth. There’s something so nice about how messing around with him distracts me, but this isn’t like the other day, when I was desperate and needing him to take me away from my pain.
There’s a calm now. He knows my darkest shit, and I know his. We don’t have to hide these things. And we don’t judge each other for it either.
I draw him to his bed, guiding us onto it until I’m on my knees between his legs. “This…is a familiar…position,” I tease between kisses, and his eyes light up.
“In case that wasn’t clear enough for you,” he says, “I like you too.”
He’s got me laughing again, but also, pride swells in my chest. I didn’t even realize how much I wanted to hear thosewords until he spoke them.
I lean close to his mouth, running my lips against his.
“Stop being a tease,” he says.
“This is just the first part I’m planning to tease tonight.”
“I tell you I like you, and now you’re gonna tease me?”
“Don’t worry,” I say, “you’ll enjoy all the ways I tease you.”
And as I crawl down to his crotch, I keep an eye on his expression, his eyes eager because he knows I’m not gonna let him down.
*
Over the weekendand throughout the beginning of the week, Alexei and I catch up on schoolwork, which is hard as hell under the circumstances. Despite Alexei’s attempts to reach out to the Saints, none have returned his texts or spoken to him since the party last Friday. Like they’re shunning him for his betrayal. I saw Gage and Spencer in classes, but they won’t so much as look at me.
On Wednesday, Alexei and I sit at tables on the third floor of the library, with our laptops out. I’m supposed to be writing a paper for Structural Engineering; Alexei’s studying for his Chem exam. He seems to be making progress, which is more than I can say for myself.
When I’m not spacing out, thinking about the ominous, looming threat Cody mentioned, I’m reading articles about the psycho serial killer who possessed me. I figured Alexei wouldn’t be able to tell the difference between that andresearch, but at one point he says, “Looking up Jonathan Farras?”
“I—uh…yeah.”
His lip twists up in that adorable way it does sometimes. “I can’t imagine being possessed is something you can just walk off.”
Not even a little.
And since that night, I’m on edge when I wake up, and even find myself repeatedly checking the foot of the bed. Sometimes I wake up and think I see him standing there.
“I keep wondering what he wanted to do with my body, but then when I read this shit, I don’t have to wonder. He liked to rape and strangle men and women. Makes me think if Brad hadn’t been there, God knows what he might have done. Who he would have hurt. It’s just difficult to think about. And then…” I stop myself. No, I can’t let myself go down that path.
“What is it?” Alexei asks.
“Part of me fears that he was able to get into me because there’s something already here. Something like my father.” The thought crossed my mind more than a few times. I just can’t get over that niggling doubt.
Alexei looks horrified by the suggestion. “Matteo, that’s not—”
“Forget I said it, please. It did screwy things to my head. Can we leave it at that?Please.”
I can tell by the way his mouth is hanging open that he wants to reassure me, but I’ve already learned from how this thing rattles around in my brain that there’s no rationalizingit away.
I’m pleased when he doesn’t push. He reaches across the table and rests his hand on mine, stroking his thumb across my flesh, and damn, his touch sets me at ease. Like a fucking sedative being pumped into my veins.
These past few days I’ve learned how much I enjoy his touch. Even though we’ve dedicated a lot of time to studying, that hasn’t kept us from spending some time together in his bed…or sneaking off to the fourth-floor bathroom when we need a fucking break—and I do mean afucking break.
