Page 62 of Glass Rose
“Relationship.” He tests the word like it’s foreign. “I like the sound of it.”
“And I like you.”
His eyes widen, his body going completely still. I’ve broken him. One little ‘I like you,’ and the big bad super-soldier freezes like I’ve confessed undying love.
I step back, giving him space. “I said I like you, not that I want to bear your children. It’s not a marriage proposal. Please don’t freak out.”
“I’m not freaking out.”
“Your face says otherwise.” I poke his chest. “You look like I just told you I have a collection of your toenail clippings.”
“That would be less terrifying.” He runs a hand through his hair, eyes darting to the warehouse in the distance. “People who like me tend to end up dead.”
“Good thing I’m stubborn, then.”
He grabs my wrist as I turn to walk away, tugging me back against his chest. “You’re impossible.”
“You like that about me?”
“I like a lot of things about you.” His voice drops to that gravelly tone that makes my stomach flip. “Including how you handle that knife.”
“Just the knife?”
“I need you.”
The simple declaration hits harder than any flowery speech could. Three words that contain multitudes.
“You have me.” My voice comes out embarrassingly breathy. “Tonight.”
“Tonight?”
I twist out of his grasp. “We should get back. John will send out a search party if we’re gone much longer.”
“Sofia.” My name sounds like salvation on his lips.
Shit.
“No.” I hold up my hand. “I’m covered in zombie guts,and we’re standing in a clearing full of corpses.” I gesture to the mess around us. “Not exactly the romantic setting I had in mind for… our first time.”
His lips twitch. “You had settings in mind?”
“I—” Warmth spreads across my face.
This is something else entirely.
Something far more dangerous than any zombie could ever be.
FOURTEEN
GAVIN
Every inch of Sofia beneath my fingertips feels like salvation, like something worth fighting for in this fucked-up world where the dead walk and the living can’t be trusted. Her heartbeat thunders against my palm, matching the frantic rhythm of my own as I lose myself in her warmth, in her scent, in everything she is.
She said she likes me.
“Gavin,” she breathes against my mouth, her voice thick with need.
I crowd her back against the narrow bed of the camper, pinning her wrists above her head with one hand while the other grips her thigh. Everything about her is soft, yielding, alive in ways that make the monster inside me purr with satisfaction.
