Page 32 of Fall Surprises
"That wasn't about work." He glanced at me, heat in his expression. "That was about working off frustration before I did something stupid like march upstairs and knock on your door."
"And if you had?"
"You wouldn't have gotten any sleep."
The promise in his voice made me squeeze my thighs together. The rest of the drive passed in charged silence, both of us hyperaware of each other in the small cab.
The haunted house was set up in an old barn on the edge of town, harsh colored spotlights turning everything garish. A line of teenagers waited outside, their laughter sharp in the cold air. The hand-painted sign promised "TERROR BEYOND YOUR WILDEST NIGHTMARES!" in dripping red letters.
"We're definitely too old for this," I observed.
"Speak for yourself." But he moved closer as a group of rowdy kids jostled behind us, his body blocking theirs from bumping into me. The protective gesture made something warm unfurl in my chest.
The ticket booth kid—maybe nineteen with elaborate zombie makeup—barely looked up from his phone. "Twenty bucks. No refunds if you chicken out. Say 'mercy' if you need the early exit. Next group enters in two minutes."
Inside, the barn reeked of fog machine mist and rubber masks. Strobe lights turned everything choppy and surreal. A recorded loop of screams played from crackling speakers that buzzed with distortion. My sneakers stuck to the floor—spilled soda, I hoped.
The first room was medical horror—an actor in a blood-stained coat lunged from behind a gurney, surgical toolsclanging. I jumped backward into Gus, his arm coming around my waist automatically.
"I've got you," he murmured against my ear, his breath warm on my neck.
The second room, a morgue where bodies sat up in drawers with mechanical jerks, had me gripping his jacket, my fingers twisted in the leather. His hand covered mine, thumb stroking over my knuckles.
By the third room—a clown maze with mirrors and that awful circus music—I was practically climbing him.
"Not a screamer, huh?" he teased.
"Shut up."
Then came the chainsaw.
The roar erupted from nowhere, deafening in the confined space. My logical brain knew there was no blade, but logic meant nothing when a masked figure burst through a hidden panel three feet away. I launched myself at Gus with a shriek that would've been embarrassing if I'd had any dignity left.
He caught me easily, lifting me off the ground as my legs wrapped around his waist. The chainsaw actor moved past to terrorize the next group. We were suddenly alone in a dark corner, me clinging to him like my life depended on it, both of us breathing hard.
"Sam."
I looked down into his eyes. His pupils were wide, barely a ring of green visible. His hands spanned my waist, holding me steady but also holding me against him, where I could feel exactly how affected he was by our position.
"Tell me to put you down," he said roughly.
"No."
His grip tightened. "Tell me this is just adrenaline."
"It's not."
"Sam—"
I kissed him. No hesitation this time, no second-guessing. His mouth was hot and demanding, tongue sliding against mine with a hunger that matched my own. I grabbed his hair, holding him where I wanted him as I ground against him, drawing a groan from deep in his chest.
"Not here," he gasped against my mouth. "You deserve better than—"
"I don't care about better." I nipped his lower lip, felt his whole body shudder. "I'm tired of waiting, tired of being careful. I want you. I've wanted you since you brought me dinner and looked at me like you actually saw me. Not the wedding planner, not the perfectionist. Me."
He kissed me harder, walking us backward until my back hit the wall. The fake screams and chainsaw sounds faded to nothing. There was only his mouth on mine, his hands in my hair, the solid weight of him pressing between my thighs.
"Get a room!" Some teenager yelled, and we broke apart, both flushed and disheveled.
