Page 11 of My Apocalypse Mountain Man
Sierra
Weretreattothecabin, barricading the damaged door with furniture. The zombies keep coming, but slower now, many of them damaged by fire or bullets. We pick them off from the windows, conserving ammunition, making every shot count.
By sunset, it's over.
The last zombie falls just as our ammunition runs out. The yard is littered with bodies, some still smoldering. The speakers are somehow still functional, playing static into the growing darkness.
"We did it," I say, hardly believing it.
"We did."
I turn to find Kole watching me with that unreadable expression again.
"What?" I ask.
"You fought like you've been doing this your whole life."
"I've been doing it for three years. That's practically a lifetime now."
"No. It's more than that. You didn't panic, didn't hesitate. You trusted me to watch your back and you watched mine."
"That's what partners do."
We stand there in the gathering darkness, surrounded by death but very much alive. It's not just that we survived together. It's that neither of us can imagine surviving without the other now.
The heat in his gaze makes my breath catch. "No. It's not."
Before I can respond, he backs me against the workshop wall, his big body caging me in.
"Sierra," he growls, one hand braced beside my head, the other gripping my hip. "I've wanted to do this since the moment you walked into my clearing." His mouth crashes down on mine, hungry and demanding. I moan against his lips, my hands fisting in his shirt, pulling him closer.
"Fuck," he breathes against my neck, his beard scraping my throat. "You have no idea what you do to me."
I can only whimper in response.
"You make me want things I thought I'd forgotten how to want." His hand slides under my shirt, palm hot against my ribs. "You make me want to touch you everywhere, taste every inch of you, make you scream my name."
"Kole."
"I want to strip you naked and worship your body until you're begging for my cock." His thumb brushes the underside of my breast through my bra, and I arch into the touch. "Want to make you come so hard you forget everything but my name."
"Yes," I whisper, grinding against the hard length of him pressed against my hip. "Please."
His control snaps. He kisses me harder, more desperately, his hand moving to cup my breast properly. Even through the fabric, his touch burns, and I can feel myself getting wet.
"Not here," he says, pulling back with obvious effort. "Not against a wall like this is just adrenaline."
"What if I want it against a wall?"
"Jesus, Sierra." His voice is rough with want. "You're going to kill me."
"Not before you make good on those promises."
"What promises?"
"About making me scream your name."
He makes a sound low in his throat that's pure male need. "Inside. Now. Before I lose what's left of my self-control and take you right here in the snow."
