“What happened with damage control?” She asks, troubled.
I scowl, recalling the information about her and Siberian that was so uncomfortably uncovered. “It’s been regulated.”
“What does that mean?” She asks, utterly clueless. This could be fun.
I eye her. “It means you shouldn’t leave this room alone if you want to live.”
“That bad?” Now she’s just straight up scared.
I can’t help but mess with her. It’s just too easy; besides, it will give me the upper hand I need to keep her in line so she doesn’t go and get herself killed.
“Even worse than you can imagine.”
The lines on her beautiful face crease and I can hear her heartbeat quicken.
“Jocelyn says the portal is swarming with Darklings and I can’t leave. Nikkee’s wedding is in two days and there’s no sign of the Seminal flower blooming anytime soon,” she unleashes. “How am I supposed to get home in time?”
I shrug. “Ruby slippers?” I joke, thinking she’ll appreciate the wise crack.
“You think this is funny?” Liv snaps, surprising me. Okay, not so appreciative.
“I’m just trying to make some light of the situation,” I say defensively. My ego just took a hit. “I know how important Nikkee’s wedding is to you. We’ll figure something out.”
“We wouldn’t need to figure anything out if you didn’t put me in this situation to begin with.”
She’s blaming me?
“Me? What are you blaming me for? It wasn’t my bright idea to bring you here.”
She’s silent for a few moments, then she erupts. “Everything! I blame you for everything!”
It feels like she just stabbed me in the chest with an ice pick. But I know she’s right. This whole situation is my fault, and I can’t help but be sorry for it. I just don’t know how to fix it. So I do what I always do, and shut the world out.
“Forget it, I’m outta here,” I announce. “I’m in no mood to fight.”
“We don’t have to fight!” She argues, but I know it’s too late. “I…” she stutters, and I wait impatiently, just wanting to
escape. Coward. Why does this little girl scare you so much? “Liv?”
“Stay?” she asks, and there is a little hint of supplication in her voice.
Baby, there isn’t anything I want more, except to just stop hurting you.
But I don’t tell her that, instead I say, “I think I’ve done enough damage here.”
“We can fix it,” she says heartening, making it harder and
harder for me to walk away.
“I’m not sure we can,” I say simply. Fucking gutless.
Then I turn to leave, but not before my emotions get blown to smithereens.
I didn’t even see her reach out to grab me. And maybe on some level, I didn’t want to. Maybe on some level, I wanted her to touch me; because if she did, I wouldn’t be able to hide anymore.
Admission is my release, and Liv is my liberator.
As soon as she touches me I’m forced to let go, of everything. My fears, my secrets, my needs and all my insecurities. It all comes rushing to the surface as the shackles detaining me break free. I confront what I want, who I want, and how I will do anything to get it.
I’m not sure if I pulled her into me, or if she just attacked me, all I know is that I liked it when I found her lips crushed under mine.
Then, like our bodies have a mind of their own, we are all over each other, pawing and pulling, bumping all around the door frame and staggering into her room. Desires creep up within me that I have never known before, almost as if I can feel everything I’m feeling, combined with everything Liv is feeling, converging all our energy into one; and to call it mind-blowing is under exaggerating.
I slam her up against the wall and without even thinking, rip
her dress right off of her.
I have absolutely lost control.
I need to separate my emotions from hers. I grasp for a moment of clarity, and when I finally grab hold of it I return to the cognizant now. And through the transparency of our body screaming explosion, I remember something. This is Liv. She’s different; not a one night stand, or a meaningless screw. She’s the girl who walked through the firestorm of my soul, and intrepidly tamed the flames.
I also remind myself that she’s never done this before. Although, you would never know it by the way she is clawing at me.
We need to slow down.
Regaining my bearings, I pull my face away from hers, locking her beneath my stare. She’s panting, standing there in nothing more than a bra and panties with this unyielding look in her eye.
Her self-confidence is astounding. Only a few months ago she saw herself as withered and powerless, but now? She’s a fierce, brave and ardent woman.
I want linger on her, so I run my fingertips up along her arms and over her chest. I waver at the pendant hanging from her neck, reflecting back on last night and everything that’s happened. I can’t help but wonder if it’s because of the necklace that I can touch her this way. I don’t dwell on the notion long. It’s an issue
for another day.
I revel in the feel of my tiny dancer. Liv is like a six foot tall ballerina condensed into a five foot two frame. Long and lean in all the right places; her muscles are toned and yet, with all her strength, she is still so delicate.
I continue down her torso, skimming over her stomach and stopping right at the line of her underwear, where the fabric meets her skin. Then I slip one finger inside. A fire ignites within me as a severe reality sets in.
I’m scared shit.
Up until now, we could barely touch. And on some idiotic level, that was okay with me, because even though I admitted my feelings, I never really had to confront them. There was still a safe separation between us, a thin veil that never allowed her completely and entirely in.
But here, now, all the barriers are crashing down; I’m forced to feel things, and I’m not sure what the aftermath will be. Will she get hurt? Will I? I just don’t know. But God, being here, with her like this, I want to find out.
She doesn’t seem fazed at all. She wants me; that’s all she knows. And I can feel her body calling to mine.
“I don’t want you to get hurt,” I whisper, giving her one last chance for an out.
“I won’t,” she responds with that quiet confidence she always exudes.
That’s all I need to hear.
I pick her up and gently lay her down on the unmade bed to offset the beating her body just took. Crawling on top of her, she helps me shrug out of my shirt, along with the rest of my clothes. And just to be playful, I rip off the delicate lace panties hugging her hips.
She gasps, “Justice!” then lets out a huge laugh. That is my favorite sound in the whole world.
“I hope you weren’t fond of those,” I say as I drag her body closer to mine.
An inferno flashes in her desirous eyes. “I won’t miss them one bit,” she says, then her mouth is against mine. Riotous, uncontrolled and unrestrained.
I trail kisses down her face, under her jaw and over her shoulder as my fingers freely discover unexplored places.
“Justice!” She tenses when I hit the right spot. Her violet eyes flicker up at me, pleading, earnest, beseeching.
I lose all self-restraint when she looks at me like that. “Tell me you like it,” I murmur.
“I like it,” she replicates.
“Tell me you want me,” I challenge. “I want you,” she responds.
I shift myself on top of her, her energy uneasy from the unknown. “Liv,” I stifle, as I slip inside her, holding her tight. Her arms go rigid around my neck as she whimpers, reacting to
the pleasure and the pain of me breaking into her. I run my nose
lightly up and down her cheek to ease her stress, and spill soft kisses over her mouth. She responds to my consoling advances and her body relaxes.
I worship and adore and revere i
n the place I’ve been daydreaming about since the moment she touched my core; the moment she shifted gravity. I want to profess how amazing she feels, how it selfishly gratifies me to know that I am the only man to ever possess her. That she is mine, utterly and completely, in every sense of the word.
But I say nothing. I don’t want to scare her, or truth be told, scare myself. So I just moan against her neck as I drive myself deeper inside her, knowing she can feel everything I’m feeling. My love, my ache, and my regret for all the destructive damage I’ve done.
There is one thing I irrepressibly confess.
“I can’t live without you Liv Christianni, not for one single day.”
The End Book Two
About the Author
Marissa Carmel has loved writing ever since a young age. She has a duel degree in History and Political Science, but took as many creative writing classes in college as she could. She spent most of her twenties bartending, which is where she met her husband and a multitude of interesting people. When she’s not reading or writing, she’s hanging out with her family, experimenting in her kitchen or doing yoga on the living room floor.
For more information about the author and upcoming projects visit www.MarissaCarmel.com
Gravitational Pull (Vis Vires, book 2) (Vis Vires trilogy) Page 22