"I don't want to go to class." I want to get our happy asses to the drugstore and get some condoms and spend the rest of the day in bed.
Josh is laughing at me. "I'm the one who should be saying that, not you."
I want to throw something at him for laughing. "Listen, Mr. Magic Fingers. You've been teasing me for days now. And I'm supposed to be all ‘let's go to class and talk about symbolic violence’ when you've finally decided to get an erection?"
I crawl into his lap, pushing him away from where he was tying his shoes. He grips my hips and drags me closer to him. "I'm not laughing at you," he whispers against my mouth.
And then he kisses me. Hard. Harder than he's ever kissed me. My lips are bruised. If they're not, they should be.
I want more. I want it all. The pain. The pleasure. With Josh there are no half measures.
"You really want to be a responsible adult?" I whisper.
"No. I think we need to at least pretend to be responsible adults." He smiles against my mouth. "And the clinic is on the way to class. So we can take care of our little problem on the way back here."
"I'm surprised you're being so rational about this."
"I'm really not. It's more self-preservation than anything. If I don't go to class, I might get calluses from jerking off too much today."
The laugh breaks free, and I lower my forehead to his. It feels so foreign to laugh like this with a lover. To laugh with Josh.
I cup his cheek, his stubble soft beneath my palm, and kiss him sweetly. I want to cherish this. Because the darkness isn't gone. It's merely waiting, lurking. I know it will be back.
It always comes back.
But for the moment, I will ignore it. I rock against him gently. "Class ought to be interesting today."
"Why?"
"Because I've never been distracted by the possibility of sex afterward."
"Probability," he growls against my mouth. "This is going to happen."
"Only if you can get it up."
A sound wrenches out of him. Something between a laugh and a snarl. He rolls then until I am pinned beneath him. Until I feel the weight of him between my thighs, the hard length of him rubbing against my core where I am already aching for him again.
"I'll get it up," he says. Then he closes his eyes and rests his forehead against mine in what is becoming an achingly familiar gesture. "I hope."
"You will. And if not? We've always got your fingers."
He laughs again and we finish dressing for class.
It's going to be a long day.
Chapter 29
Abby
It’s strange to no longer feel alone as we sit in Quinn’s class. I'm no longer surrounded by a sea of people who act like they are never quite sure if they should approach me or pretend I'm not there.
It's fine. I'm used to it.
But I'm not used to this. To having him next to me. To feeling his strength and warmth beside me, knowing that later, as soon as class is over, we can leave.
We can finish what we started.
I'm aching and distracted as Quinn starts his lecture. Parker is there, asking her normal rational choice theory-based questions. She's not even annoying me today.
I guess this is what it feels like to have a lover that consumes everything. All your thoughts. All your fears. Everything.
Josh is taking notes. He's slouched back in his chair, his notebook leaned up at an angle. I'm not sure if he's actually taking notes or if he's doodling.
I love the way his fingers wrap around the pencil. The thick tip guiding the pencil across the page.
I can all but feel that finger on my skin, sliding over the seam of my body.
He glances up at me. Heat flushes across my skin as he catches me staring. His lips quirk in a tiny smile, just a crease at the edge of his lips.
Yeah, I'm not paying attention at all.
"What can we say about religious versus secular violence?" Quinn asks, drawing my attention away from the promise of Josh's hands.
His fingers stop the movement of the pencil.
Just like that I can feel the shift in Josh.
But the class keeps going on, as though the world hadn't just frozen beside me. Parker raises her hand. "I'm not sure I see a difference."
Josh is tense beside me.
I cautiously raise my hand. "I think we need to break it down into smaller categories than religious versus secular violence."
"What would you propose?" Quinn asks me.
"I'm not sure. I think we'd need to dissect violence conducted by the state, violence conducted by individuals acting on behalf of another institution." I take a deep breath. "And violence conducted by individuals on their own behalf." My words fade a little. I hate myself for it.
Josh glances over at me, a question in his eyes. I shake my head a little bit, focusing on the lecture, refusing to go backward ever again.
He leans over; his breath is hot on my ear. His words rumble over my skin. "Save whatever frustration you have for later."
I duck my head and smile. Nice distraction. I write on the edge of my paper.
"Is there a difference in those levels of violence? In the forms they take?" Quinn pauses. "Mr. Douglas?"