She’d been wondering what drew him to her. Why he’d been catering to all her needs with so little hesitation and so much determination. Whether he considered her a mere toy, a temporary human plaything to sate his sexual hunger, or whether she’d somehow burrowed beneath his skin and slipped into his veins, arrowing toward his heart. Because with every beat of her own heart, he was making a home for himself there, and it scared the shit out of her.
Now, though, she no longer cared why he wanted her or for how long. Her fear couldn’t touch her as long ashetouched her.
“You’ll drown in me, my Edie.” His open mouth dragged along her flushed cheek, and his thigh pushed tight and hard between her legs. “You’ll come for me until you cry.”
He gripped her ass and rocked her against that swell of firm muscle, and her lips parted in a soundless moan.
If this was a fever dream, she didn’t want to get better.
“Soon.” With a sigh, he pushed up and off her, stood, and unzipped her duffel. “Not now.”
She lay there, bereft and breathless, her damp skin prickling in the sudden chill. “What the hells, Max?”
Efficiently, he dried her off again, maneuvered her upright, and helped her step into fresh panties and coveralls, then slip on clean socks. Once she’d recovered somewhat, she slapped his hands away and did the rest herself.
“You’re cranky when you’re sexually frustrated,” he noted, sounding amused.
She scowled at him, zipping the outfit up to her neck. “You’re cranky all the time, jerkface.”
“Fair enough.”
When he turned away from her to gather all the dry tablecloths, he was smiling, the withholding, contrary bastard. She fought her own smile and flopped onto the couch again, wondering if she could even rest anymore with a knot of need aching deep in her belly.
Together, they tucked the makeshift blankets around her, and she bundled up another one to serve as a pillow and stuck it beneath her head.
Without a hint of modesty, he stripped to the skin, removing all his own soaked clothing as she watched avidly. There wasn’t much of him she hadn’t studied before, what with his furry thong and shirtless videos. The parts she hadn’t seen, though…
Well. Maybe he wanted to use her as a convenient toy, but she’d been relying on her own toys for a while now, and he was definitely an upgrade. The luxury model.
She nestled her head more comfortably into the cloth pillow. “Below the neck, you’re smooth everywhere. Like a Ken doll.”
His expression of outrage was delicious.
He waved a hand, directing her attention to his semi-erect dick. “Notlike a Ken doll, clearly.”
“Hmmm.” No worries. Her attention hadn’t wavered from that area since he’d dropped his tablecloth. “Do you wax? Because the thought of ripping my pubic hair out by the roots…yeesh. No, thank you.”
“It’s a vampire thing,” he said shortly.
“Waxing?”
As he wrapped their umpteenth tablecloth around his hips, he pinned her with another flat stare. “Very funny.”
“Thank you. I thought so.” Feeling loose and remarkably happy for a woman who’d likely die in an attempt to save her neighbors from a zombie attack, she decided to push her luck. “Did you find any scissors in the stock room?”
The wariness with which he regarded her was a real compliment. “Why?”
“I can make your sarong into a thong if you have a pair of shears handy,” she offered sweetly. “Since that’s apparently a thing for you.”
He snorted again. “You just want to see my ass.”
“Guilty as charged.” She held out her wrists. “Cuff me, officer. Then cuddle me.”
“If I must,” he said with such a long-suffering sigh that she snickered.
For all his feigned reluctance, he willingly allowed himself to be tugged down and arranged to her liking. Within a few seconds, his body was spooning hers along the length of the couch, one of his tablecloth-covered biceps now her pillow, his other arm slung over her hip. A few twitches spread their makeshift blankets over both Max and herself, neck to feet.
She brought his palm to her lips and gave it a quick kiss. “Wake me up in thirty minutes, okay?”
