“I’ll just be undressing you again later.”

Heat flushed through her as his words rumbled over the air. Well, that answered the question if he planned on leaving any time soon.

Turning, she headed into the kitchen, a ridiculously wide grin on her face.

Chapter Nine

Cullen should have left the moment they finished, but he was far from having his fill of her. He wasn’t going anywhere. Maybe ever.

As soon as the fanciful thought entered, he pushed it away. This wasn’t anything but sex. Great sex. But just sex.

She sat close beside him, their thighs touching, as he ate spaghetti in front of the TV. They found a The Walking Dead marathon and settled in to watch. He loved looking at her expressive face. Even though she had seen this episode, she still covered her mouth and jumped at all the scary parts.

“So gross! Cannibals.” She wrinkled her nose at his bowl of spaghetti. “I’m glad I already ate.”

“Ah, c’mon.” He held up a marinara-coated meatball. “You don’t want a bite?”

“Ick! Get it away.” She leaned far to the side, laughing as he pushed his fork at her. “You’re going to drop it on me!”

He stuffed it into his mouth. Chewing, he latched onto her waist and tried to kiss her with a mouthful of saucy meatball.

She shrieked and tried to wiggle free. “Stop! Don’t!”

He managed to plant a kiss on her cheek, leaving a smear of marina. She wiped it with the back of her hand, laughing.

“Okay, no more,” he promised, grinning at her flushed face.

The show came back on and they settled side by side again, offering various opinions.

“I’d be one of the first to go,” she said with utter sincerity, shaking her head over her inevitable demise.

“No way. You’d have me, and I’d have explosives.”

She laughed and sent him a look. “You know bombs are loud.”

“So?”

“Well, that would draw more zombies.”

“Not if I kept killing them all,” he shot back.

She shook her head, clearly unconvinced at his logic.

“Look,” he said. “All I’m saying is that I can rig a bomb with a rubber band and household cleaning products. And I can do it fast enough for us to get away.”

“Arrogant much?” She snorted.

He shrugged. “I know my strengths.”

“Still. I think a tank from the base might be handy to have.”

He nodded. “Yeah, except they’re gas guzzlers, and I’d imagine we’ll have to worry about fuel.”

They continued on with their hypotheticals, talking in easy camaraderie until the episode came to an end. It was like every other time they hung out except different. Better. Because there was an easy intimacy between them. He could touch her arm, brush the hair back off her shoulder and she didn’t flinch.

“I need a shower,” she declared as the next episode started up.

“Go ahead. I’ll clean up.” He grabbed his plate, feeling her stare on him and fighting the wince. To anyone looking in they would appear almost … domestic. Hell.

“Thanks.”

He heard the shower water start as he loaded the dirty dishes into the dishwasher. Finished, he turned off the TV and headed for the bathroom. Outside the pink-and-green floral-print shower curtain, he slid off his briefs and pulled the curtain back.

She jumped and yelped like he was one of the zombies they had just finished watching. His gaze dropped, skimming her body. The full breasts with berry-tipped nipples made him instantly hard. He’d had no idea she had such beautiful breasts. Stepping inside the shower, he bent his head and drew one in his mouth. She yelped again, her hands flying to his head. Warm water sluiced over them, making her flesh warm and slippery-sleek in his hands.

He feasted on her breasts, his hand cupping her between her legs, rubbing where she was already wet from a combination of her desire and the shower water.

He backed her into the shower wall, pausing to squirt some body wash into his hands. He brought his hands back to her body, lathering her and massaging everywhere. Breasts, ass, her clenching sex. She closed her eyes, head rolling against the tiled wall. Her blonde hair trailed darkly wet over her shoulders and down her back.

She came, screaming his name, her chest heaving. He lifted one of her thighs, bringing it up to his hip, poised to enter her, but suddenly she broke away and dropped on her knees.

He looked down at her, water sluicing over her. She looked like some sea siren, her ripe mouth at the head of his cock, her blue eyes dark and heavy-lidded, begging for him to ruin her.

She took in his engorged head, rolling it past her lips. She sucked his wet cock into her mouth, as much as she could take. Her slim fingers fisted the base of him that she couldn’t swallow. He flattened one hand against the shower wall and fisted his other hand in the wet tangle of her hair.

She sucked him like she would take everything from him. His balls pulled tight and he knew he wouldn’t last much longer.

He tried to pull her to her feet. “Huntley, enough.”

She ignored him, sucking harder, her free hand coming up to cup his balls. He was lost. He moved his hips, fucking her mouth. She made a moan of approval. Her tongue glided along the underside of his dick, and he was done. He came, losing himself with a cry, and her mouth took all of him, wringing every lost drop from him.

He pulled her up by her arms, feeling dazed. “Huntley.”

She stared at him, her eyes glassy, and he knew she felt it, too. That this thing between them was good. Scary good.

She scraped some wet tendrils back from her cheek. “I never really understood why women did that. I never liked it, but that … with you.” Her eyes glowed. “I loved it.”

His chest squeezed. He brushed a thumb over her cheek and turned her around, finishing washing her body and then himself, his movements brusque, perfunctory. He didn’t say another word as they stepped from the shower and dressed again.

It would have made sense to leave after that. To say good night and part ways. They both had work early the following morning. It would have made sense to kiss her goodbye and chalk this up as reckless, crazy hot sex. Instead, he borrowed her toothbrush, flipped off the light and climbed into bed beside her, pulling her close to his side.

He would worry about what made sense later.

* * *

Huntley woke in the dark. She blinked for a moment, knowing something was off. It took another moment for her to remember she wasn’t alone. The events of the night flooded over her and her body tingled, deliciously sore and tender from sex. Sex with Cullen. Cullen who still slept beside her.

She turned her head, her hand reaching out to touch his bare shoulder. He muttered something and tossed his head, a low wretched sound coming from him. She knew the sound. She had heard the sounds of grief working many a late-night shift in the ER.

“Cullen,” she whispered, hoping to ease him from his bad dream. A dream she was certain was rooted in the loss of Xander.

His eyes opened at his name, a soldier accustomed to waking instantly. Pain glazed his eyes. The kind of pain that he never let anyone glimpse during daylight hours. Now with his defenses down, she saw right into him. Through him. He couldn’t hide his ghosts from her.

She reached out a hand and stroked his jaw, conveying that she was here for him. She understood, and she would always be there. He never had to be alone. If he would just let—

He snatched her wrists, tense lines bracketing his mouth. He held her wrists between them, his grip as fierce as his glittering gaze.

She stared back, questioning, unsure. “Cullen, are you all right?”