A Mad Zombie Party - Showalter Gena - Страница 71

“Please, Aston,” she gasps. “More.”

I grind against her with more force. “I love when you say my name.”

“I love saying it.” She glides her tongue over my lips then adds huskily, “I love the taste of it.” The look she gives me is a little wicked and wanton—and a lot dirty.

“Taste...yes...” I kiss her from mouth to ankle and everywhere in between, until I’m drunk on all things Milla. The sweetness of her, the silk of her skin, the little sounds she makes when I do something she really enjoys. Sometimes I pause just to peer into her eyes, to convince myself she’s real, and this is happening. It isn’t long before she’s writhing, begging me incoherently, a fine sheen of perspiration on her brow. But only when she’s quivering and begging for release do I brace an arm at her temple and trail the other down—

“Oh!” she gasps. “That’s...that’s...incredible.”

“I’m just getting started.” I play with her some more, taking my time preparing her for what’s to come. Not just physically, but emotionally. As I touch her, I tell her how much she means to me. I tell her how beautiful she is, and how lost I’d be without her. Soon, she’s once again plagued by need and begging...and I’m on the verge of losing control. “Condom,” I tell her, leaning over to grab one from the nightstand. I’m shaking.

As I roll on the latex, she nips at my mouth. She sucks on my neck and claws at my back.

“The way you make me feel...”

“If it’s anything like the way you make me feel, we’re going to have the best life together.”

Of that I had no doubt. “Look at me.”

Her gaze meets mine without hesitation. I hold her stare. I want her to know I’m here with her. I’m not thinking of anyone else. It’s just the two of us in this bed.

“Aston,” she whispers. “Now.”

Yes.

Now.

* * *

I have never been so sated. Milla...she rocked my whole freaking world.

We doze for a bit, wake, make love again, then doze again.

The second time we awaken, I wonder how she tricked the agents who were supposed to kill the others. Our eyes meet—

—and I’m walking toward the front door of the house. The lights are out, and all is quiet. But I know trouble waits outside. When I turn the lock, the door bursts open and four men rush inside the foyer. They’re dressed in black, and the one in front points his gun directly at my chest. I knew this was coming, prepared for it, but I hate that it’s happening. Takes all of my willpower to remain calm. I have to remain calm. The life and death of my friends depends on me.

“The slayers are drugged and asleep,” I say.

He motions toward the staircase with the barrel of the gun. “Take us to the bedrooms.”

He keeps the weapon pressed between my shoulder blades as I lead the way. All he has to do is twitch his finger and boom, I’m dead. My knees threaten to buckle as I climb the stairs. If one thing goes wrong, just one...

“Here.” I stop on the third floor. “Only two bedrooms are unoccupied.”

“Ali Bell?” he demands.

“In the room at the far right.”

The men branch off, each entering a different room. In the silence, I pick up the slight pop pop of silencers being put to good use, and hot tears streak down my cheeks. I know no one is actually in bed. I know test dummies from the work-out rooms are now dressed in wigs and clothes and they’re the ones taking the bullets. I know lightbulbs have been removed from every lamp, just in case a bad guy decides to double-check his kill. I know my friends are hiding in closets and bathrooms, just in case we have to fight our way out of this horrible plan.

But the stress just might kill me.

Two of the men return. The tallest one blows me a kiss.

“Shame to kill all the pretties without giving them a proper send-off.” He looks me up and down and leers. I’ll call him Target One. “Maybe you can make it up to me later.”

I shudder with revulsion.

“Shut up,” the other snaps. “Those girls are hard-core. They would’ve cut out your heart before you ever got your pants down.”

Target One says, wiggling his brows at me. “Not if they were tied properly.”

The remaining agents come out of Cole and Ali’s room, dragging a sleep-rumpled and handcuffed Ali between them.

“Did you do this?” She tries to lunge at me.

Gold-star acting, right there.

“I’m sorry,” I say, playing my part, as well. Not that I have to do much acting. I’m miserable.

“Let’s go.” My arm is gripped. I’m yanked forward and—

—the bedroom comes back into focus.

I’m yanked from Milla’s memories, and I want to rage about the danger she faced. I want to rejoice at the results. “I’m surprised Cole allowed Ali to be taken.”

“He didn’t want to,” she says, “but that girl can be persuasive.”

“You mean bossy, stubborn and vengeful.” She nods, and I add, “You suffer from the same afflictions.”

She slaps my shoulder. “Why are girls bitches and boys authoritative?”

“Because we rule, and you drool.”

“You did not just say that.” She rolls her eyes.

“Had I been here,” I say, wrapping my arms around her, holding her the way I plan to hold her for the rest of our lives, “things would have gone down differently.”

“Oh, yeah?” Her voice is low and husky.

“Oh, yeah. You are the most important part of my life, and I protect what’s mine.”

Her body softens, her legs parting to make a cradle for me. “So you’re keeping me? Forever?”

“Forever...to start.” I nip at her lips. “Mills, maybe I failed to make it clear. I’m never letting you go.”

* * *

Milla and I leave the bedroom only once, and we do it only because we’re dying of hunger. Once she’s fed, she tells me she can finally think straight and she’s no longer certain she should live in the mansion.

She’s teasing, I know, but I protest. A lot. We spend a hot, sweaty hour negotiating. In the end, we are both exhausted, and we agree she’ll live here, and I’ll do whatever she wants, whenever she wants, and I’ll like it.

You know, I kinda feel like I got the better end of the deal.

But now we’re hungry again. I leave her lounging in bed, excited about the future, my head buzzing with plans. I head to the kitchen to fix up her favorite bowl of SpaghettiOs and bake—or try to bake—red velvet brownies. The rest of the house is still in bed, and I’m going to romance the hell out of my girl, take her on her very first date.

“Hello, Frosty.”

I almost drop the bags of sugar and flour, but manage to set them on the counter before I face Kat. “Hey.”

She smiles at me. “I came to say congratulations on your victory.”

“We couldn’t have done it without you.”

“I know.”

I laugh. Such a Kat response.

“I just came to tell you that I’m glad you ended up with Milla,” she says. “You two fit in a way we never did. One day you would have resented me for my fears, for trying to keep you out of danger, and I knew it.”

“Kat—”

“No, don’t try to deny it.” She hurries on before I can respond. “I’m glad you’re at peace, Frosty. You deserve a happily-ever-after.”

“So do you.”

“Don’t worry. It’s not too late.” She blows me a kiss. “Well, I better go. Petitions to file, people to help.” She turns, and I realize Milla is standing in the doorway. “If you ever need advice about the best ways to torture him, all you have to do is call for me. Kat to the rescue!” She’s gone a second later.

“Hi,” I say with a little wave. “I woke up, you weren’t there...”

Frosty smiles at me, and it’s the warmest, sweetest smile I’ve ever seen. It lights me up inside. “Come here.”