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I raised a leg to try to knee him, but he was quicker than I was. He ground his entire body against mine. His chest. His thighs. His hips.
He was hard. Big. Thick and hard. Terror rose in me once more, but the fight did little good. He was too big. Too strong. Surrounding me completely with his hand back over my mouth, my feeble attempts and fending him off completely useless.
The fight went out of me.
I stared into his dark eyes, both of us breathing heavily, our chests rising and falling in unison.
It went on too long.
So long that the fear subsided and curiosity set in.
Slowly, the man released his hand from my mouth.
I didn’t scream.
The rest of him still pinned me, but slowly, moment by moment, a different feeling took the place of the terror. A lick of heat rolled through my spine. I reached for him, and he let me. I tucked my fingers into the neck of his mask and inched it over his head.
“What the actual fuck, Zeph?” I whispered, staring into his deep-brown eyes that were suddenly no longer horrifying but mesmerizing.
He pushed off me abruptly, like I’d broken some sort of spell by uttering his name. He turned around and stalked away. “I’m sorry.” He scrubbed his hands through his balaclava-mussed hair. “Fuck, Lyric. I’m so fucking sorry. I didn’t realize you were here or I never would have done this tonight. This is so messed up.I’mmessed up.”
I stared at the man, big-eyed while the adrenaline tried to find some place to go now that I knew I wasn’t in danger. Because whatever Zeph was, whatever messed-up things we did together, I wasn’t scared of him.
Of course, the adrenaline turned into a thick, lusty desire, and everything we’d done through the window the night before came rushing back.
“We’re both messed up,” I assured him.
He didn’t answer, but he didn’t move to leave either. He just paced up and down the living room, gaze anywhere but on me.
“Do you want a drink?” I offered, because fuck knows I needed one. But then I realized what I’d said. “Oh, you can’t drink, right? That lets in the Devil?”
He sank down on the couch I’d spent hours trying not to pay attention to. “We’re allowed alcohol. Cigarettes too, if we don’t smoke in front of the congregation. Can’t set a bad example, you know?”
I went over to the cabinets at the side of the room and started opening them, searching for alcohol and glasses. In the second I found a half-drunk bottle of whiskey and grabbed it by the neck.
Behind it was a baggie of something that looked suspiciously like weed. I sniggered at the surprising find, not picking Kat and her perfect princess getup as someone who would also enjoy getting high. Then again, maybe it wasn’t hers. Maybe it was Lleyton’s. All the more reason to smoke it myself.
“What about weed?” I held out the bag in his direction. “Does the church have any strong feelings on that?”
He lifted a shoulder. “Never asked.”
I brought both back to the couch and settled down next to him. Kat’s couch was long and wide, but I found myself sitting close enough that our arms brushed.
He didn’t move away.
I passed him the bottle of whiskey, and he downed a long swallow while I rolled a joint.
“Don’t judge me.” I glanced over my shoulder at him while I worked. “I haven’t smoked this stuff since before I had Amelia.”
He took the offered joint from my fingers and turned it over in his hand while I searched around for a lighter. “I’m not really in a position to judge anyone for anything right now.”
I grinned in triumph when I found a lighter in a little ornamental box on a side table. I tossed it over to him. “No, sir, you are not. Are we going to talk about that?”
He squeezed his eyes shut and stuck the joint in his mouth, so his hand was free to light it. He sparked the lighter and touched the joint to the flame while he inhaled.
I expected coughing and spluttering, but he held it in, and then slowly let it out, closing his eyes like he’d completely enjoyed the experience. “Maybe when I’ve had a few more pulls on this.”
I laughed quietly, taking it from his hand and taking a hit myself. The old familiar scent of pot wafted around us. I was vaguely aware that it would probably linger, and Kat would know we’d been smoking her stash, but hey, she owed me.
