Page 27 of Slayer Mom
“You went on a night hike? How fun. I want to go.”
He studied me and then raised his hand oh-so-slow and brushed my cheek. I’d just taken a good salt soak and scrubbed well. Cheeks weren’t notorious for sweat and smell. He should be okay. “Tell me that you love me.”
I pressed my lips together while he brushed my cheek with his fingers. “I love you.”
“You hesitated.”
“I was thinking about how much I love you, and it’s a lot. You’re my whole life. I mean, the children became the thing that I did, but you were the foundation of them, of our family. I’m not sure what we are anymore, but I still care about you. I think that this can be a good opportunity, this transition, your work, and my life, and we can think about what we want to build for the future. I’m thinking about going back to college.”
“You’re saying that you think you need to support me financially now that I’m unemployed? You really are remarkable. It is out of the question, but I appreciate the offer.”
I scowled at him and shoved his chest. He fell over on the couch, pulling me along with him. The full-body contact was so good. Maybe it was because I was so tired, or the smoke, or the fact that monsters seemed like the only real thing in my life, but it felt like a dream segment with him and I just couldn’t resist running my nose along his jaw and sinking my hands into his hair. My husband, Hazen, who could be a serious jerk, but had still stayed with me through all the pain, joy, sorrow, in sickness and health. He wasn’t perfect, but neither was I, and I needed him. I needed his strength and support and love and touch. I kissed him, drowning in his mouth and taste, wrapping around him like I’d been starving for him.
He tasted so good, so sweet, with soft lips and silky tongue. I drank him while my hands slid upunder his shirt, over his satin skin. I pulled away long enough to get rid of my shirt before I was back on him, absolutely lost in the sensation, the safety, the connection that I’d been longing for.
His hands found me, strong, capable, and so delicious. I was caught up in the cloudy sweetness, the desire mixed with relief so powerful, I couldn’t do anything but fill my body and soul with him.
eight
. . .
I wokeup in bed with my husband, filled with the heavy contentedness of a well-sated marriage. I sat up and his hand slid down my body to my lap.
Zombies. Nutmeg. Now they’d be coming for him. How could I make this better? His hand started moving, and I inhaled sharply before I scooted out of bed then hesitated. He needed to bathe really well. There was only one way I could make certain that he got perfectly clean.
I grabbed his hand and dragged him off the bed. I hadn’t meant to be that forceful, but I didn’t know my own strength.
He smiled at me, lazy and soft, like we’d spent a long time indulging in our marriage vows of love and intimacy. “Good afternoon. Where are we going?”
“Shower. I need you to scrub my back.”
“Why didn’t you tell me right away?” He scooped me up in his arms and carried me into our very large and well-situated shower. He tasted so good. And felt so good. He always knew exactly what I wanted, needed, craved.
The water pounded against my back while he kissed me, water sliding between us and steam swirling all around. I was rougher than usual. Iwanted more contact, more connection, more pressure, and he obliged perfectly, as always. Was this okay? Would he be marked? He scraped his teeth over my shoulder and I arched back, circling his narrow waist with my legs.
After the extremely long and active shower, I got dressed in my closet around my bed. I pressed my palm against my stomach and took a deep breath. I loved him too much. I ached with how much I loved him. I needed to end the marking and quit slaying and get back to reality with my husband, but how? The obvious answer was to destroy all the zombies. How many were there? I needed to talk to Tom. I needed to go slaying tonight, and every night, until they were eradicated.
I couldn’t touch my husband again until it was safe. When I came down the stairs, I smelled pumpkin spice chai coming from the kitchen. All the doors and windows were still open, and the place was nicely aired out.
“You’re dressed for going out,” he said, nodding at my suit.
“I forgot to tell you, I got a job. It’s not great, just a night receptionist at a hotel, but it’s something. I need to get going for orientation and then a long night shift. Don’t wait up for me.”
He cocked his head and studied me. “You’re back to being distant. You remembered that you’re angry at me.”
“It’s not that.”
He raised a brow over his mischievous eyes. “I see. In that case, while you’re off working hard, I’ll take care of the house. I apologize for making such a big mess for you to clean up. I just wanted the mess, not for you to fix it for me. Sometimes chaos can be therapeutic.”
There was nothing more chaotic than zombies. “And sometimes it’s just a mess. We need to think about putting the house on the market soon.”
“Do you want me to find a realtor?”
“If you know someone good.”
“You’re the only good person I know. Don’t ever change.”
I stared at him while my heart pounded and throbbed and twisted. I needed to kiss him. I needed to love him. He handed me a thermos of pumpkin spice chai and kissed my forehead.
