Page 40 of Glitter Rose
“What are you doing here?” My voice comes out raspy.
He doesn’t answer right away. Just sits there, a solid presence in the darkness, his breathing steady while mine races. The Wolf-zombies howl again, and I flinch despite myself.
He shifts his weight, mattress dipping further. “You okay?”
Am I okay? After making a complete fool of myself? After he pushed me away like I was infected? “Nothing like a zombie choir to lull you to sleep.”
His silhouette moves, head tilted. Studying me.
“What do you want from me?” I sit up, sheets pooling around my waist. “I’m fine. Totally fine. No need to check on the crazy girl.”
“Kept thinking about you in here. Alone.”
My heart stutters, traitor that it is. “I’ve been alone for a year. I’m used to it.”
“Maybe I’m not.”
“You’re leaving anyway.”
“Yeah.”
“Well, thanks for the update.” I shoo him away with my hand.
The mattress shifts as he moves, and I scoot back instinctively, flattening myself against the headboard. But instead of reaching for me, he stretches out on top of the covers, fully clothed in a t-shirt and sweatpants.
“Knox—”
“Just sleep.” He repositions his head. “That’s all.”
He can’t be serious. Why is he?—
Another howl echoes from outside, and he reaches for me, his hand finding my wrist. One gentle tug, and I’m sliding down beside him without any resistance, my back to his chest.
He’s spooning me. Knox, Mr. Die Hard himself, is actually spooning me.
“Get some sleep.” His lips brush my temple, so light I might have imagined it. “I’m here.”
The Wolf-zombies seem suddenly distant and unimportant compared to the heat of his body wrapping mine through the thin fabric of my sleep shirt and leggings. Or the way his chest expands against my back with each breath. Or the slight roughness of his stubble when he tucks his chin against the crook of my neck.
I shift, trying to get comfortable, and?—
Oh.
Is he—He’s hard.Itnestles against my ass. I never feltit, but it’s unmistakable. I shift again, testing.
He stills my hips, fingers digging into my soft flesh. “Don’t.”
A small whimper escapes me before I can stop it. Not from pain. From want. Pure, desperate want that pools between my legs and makes me ache.
“Sorry,” I whisper, not sorry at all.
I should lie still and be grateful for this comfort, this closeness. But something reckless makes me shift my hips again, grinding back against him with deliberate pressure.
“You’re driving me crazy.” His grip tightens and his breath comes faster, hot against my neck. “So please stop moving.”
“You’re giving me really mixed signals here,” I say, voice trembling with either courage or stupidity. “Don’t kiss me, but crawl into my bed. Stop moving, but hold me tighter.”
His dark chuckle rumbles against my back. “You want a clear signal, princess?”
