Morganville (Justin Bieber)

Chapter 71

Michael was closing the kitchen door, and he sighed. "When is this going to stop?"

"When you quit sucking blood?"

"Justin-- "

"Don't get pissy. I made yours garlic-free." Justin looked at me again, and frowned a little. "You okay?"

"Sure. Why wouldn't I be?"

"Just -- I don't know. Whatever." He slung an arm over my shoulders and kissed me on the forehead. "Bad day, probably."

Let's see, I'd been threatened by Eve's brother, had my wrist cut, and then played keep-away with Myrnin for hours. Did that qualify as a bad day in Morganville? Probably not. No body count.

Not yet, anyway.

Michael pushed past us and through the door into the living room. I pulled free of Justin's arm and went to the stove to ladle myself a bowl of chili. It smelled hot and delicious. But mostly hot. I tasted a drop and nearly choked; was it usually this molten-lava wicked spicy? Everything felt raw to me right now. I supposed that was a side effect of the crystals.

"I thought I heard you," Justin said. "Weirdest thing, I heard your voice today. Right out of the air. I thought you -- I kept thinking about Michael, how he used to be during the daytime ..."

When he was a ghost. "You thought I was -- ?"

"I thought maybe something happened," he said. "I called your cell number, the new one."

I'd left it in my backpack. I reached down and unzipped the pocket, then checked the phone. Three calls, all from Justin. With voicemails. "Sorry," I said. "I didn't hear it. Guess I need to turn the ringer up."

He looked at me very steadily, and I felt the cold spot in the center of me, the place that had chilled while I'd been with Myrnin, slowly warm. "You worry me," he said, and put his hand on my cheek. "You know that, right?"

I nodded, and hugged him. Unlike Myrnin, he was warm and solid and his body just molded right into mine, perfect and sweet. When he kissed me I tasted beer and chili, but only for a second. After that, it was pure Justin, and I forgot all about Myrnin, and any kind of physics except friction. Justin backed me up against the stove. I felt the low heat of the burner at my back, but I was too preoccupied to worry much about bursting into flames from outside sources. Justin just had that effect on me.

"I missed you," he whispered, brushing my damp lips with his. "Want to go upstairs?"

"What about my chili?"

"Get it to go."

There were good things about the way I felt tonight, I decided; my nerves might be raw, but that only made his touch all the sweeter. I would have felt awkward, usually, and uncertain, and scared, but it seemed like the afternoon that had started with Jason and ended with Myrnin's snarl had burned all that out of me.

"Not hungry," I said breathlessly. "Come on."

I felt as wild and free as a little kid, running up the steps with Justin in hot pursuit, and when he grabbed me around the waist and spun me around into his room and kicked the door shut, I squealed in delight. And wiggled to fit myself against his warm, hard body as I kissed him again, breathless and flying.

He kissed like our lives depended on it. Like it was an Olympic event and he intended to earn a medal. Somewhere in the back of my head I was chattering to herself, warning that this was going to go too far, that I was just making things worse for us both, but I couldn't help it. Before long we were stretched out together on Justin's bed, and his big, warm hands were teasing under the hem of my shirt, stroking the fluttering skin of my stomach and stealing my breath. I lost it all when he spread his fingers out, pressing his palm flat against me, and I felt an almost irresistible impulse to feel those hands all over. Everywhere. My heart was hammering hard enough to make me dizzy, and it was all just so ...

Perfect.

I reached down and pulled up my shirt. Slowly, feeling the cool air slip over tender skin.

Up, to the bottom line of my bra. Then up.

Justin stopped.

"I want to," I whispered against his mouth. "Please, Justin. I want to." I sat up and reached for the clasp on my bra, and unhooked it. "Please."

He pulled back from me and sat up, head down. When he looked up he licked his lips, and his eyes were wide and dark and I could fall into them, fall forever.

"I know," he said. "Me too. But I made promises, and I'm going to keep them. Especially the one to your parents, because your dad said he'd hunt me down like a dog." Justin gave her a wild, bitter smile. "Sucks to be me."

"But -- " I felt my bra slipping, and quickly grabbed to hold it in place. I felt ridiculous now, and wounded.

He sighed. "Don't, Ana. It's not like I'm a saint or anything, I'm not, and trust me, for you, a saint would buy a condom and go to confession. But it's not about that. It's about keeping my word, and around here, my word is all I've got."

I wanted him with a red fury that was all out of character for me, but somehow, the way he said it, the way he looked me straight in the eyes, I felt all that fall away and the fury turn into something pure, hot and silver.

"Besides," Justin said, "I'm all out of condoms, and I hate confession."

He put his arms around me and hooked my bra with an ease that showed he had plenty of practice.

I threw a pillow at him.