Page 48 of Agony

The crowd was deep and it took some time to work his way through the throng. When he finally made it to Fisher, the three people dancing with the guy were all over each other.

Ellie Goulding’s song Miracle switched up the beat slightly and Justice didn’t wait.

He came up behind Fisher.

Moving his body in time with the assassin’s slighter form, Justice stayed close.

Fisher sent his head back to rest on his upper chest and then gyrated his ass back into his crotch—clearly unaware of who was behind him.

Justice felt his throat grow tight and all he wanted was to rest his head down on Fisher’s shoulder and let the world fall away.

The other three people moved even closer to them and soon all five of them were in sync. Fisher reached his hands up and closed them at either side of Justice’s neck, pressing their bodies together more tightly.

God help him, Justice closed his arms around Fisher’s waist and held on, locking his hands around the man’s front.

Dropping his head, Justice nuzzled into the fall of dark hair and he ghosted his mouth over Fisher’s ear.

Regret was a bitter thing.

The way Fisher danced back against him clearly showed Fisher didn’t know it was him.

Playing a trick on Fisher had never been his intention, and he wasn’t going to start by lying now.

“Hello, Slim,” he growled against the shell of the man’s ear.

Fisher tensed and after one long moment, relaxed. Justice knew without a doubt he wasn’t forgiven, but at least he was still breathing.

It must have been the alcohol that made the man compliant. He knew that Fisher had consumed enough for two grown men. It was a wonder the slender man was still on his feet.

Justice jerked his head back slightly when Fisher spun around in his arms. Their gazes locked and held.

Unable to resist, Justice bent his head down when Fisher pulled at the back of his neck to bring his face closer. The man went up on his tiptoes and through the loud noise and music, Fisher shouted next to his ear.

“I fucking hate you.”

Justice closed his eyes and tightened his arms.

Fisher groaned and rolled over.

The bed beneath him was soft and the sheets cool.

He couldn’t remember jack shit about last night and the pounding of his head told him why. The hangover was going to be a bitch, but at least he wasn’t still drunk. Now, if he could only figure out where the fuck he was.

Nothing bad had happened, of that, he was sure because he could remember being at the club last night.

He remembered…

He rolled his head to the side.

Son of a bitch!

He recognized that head of dirty blond hair and that rippling muscled back. Lifting the sheet, he gazed down at himself.

Fuck.

He wore only briefs.

Scenes from the night before rolled through his head.

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