“Hey, you can’t be back here . . . Everett?”
So she hadn’t recognized him. “What do you think?”
She made a face, sticking her tongue out and wrinkling her nose. “I think you look disgusting. What is that all over your face?”
“Make up, a few fake scabs and blood . . . even some imitation
pus.” He wrapped his arms around her waist and pursed his lips, the stuff on his face shifting and crackling. “How about a kiss?”
“Ew, no!” She laughed, struggling. She reached out to grab her stake and held it under his chin. “Back off you, undead fiend. There will be no kisses for you until you’re human once more.”
“A rubber stake?” he said, amused. “I don’t think you’re going to do much with that, Whisky.”
Everett leaned down toward her mouth, but she held him off. “Not with all that gunk on you.”
“Aw, you’re breaking my poor, undead heart.”
Shaking her head, she stood up on her tiptoes and gave him a small, closed-mouth kiss. “How’s that?”
“Eh.”
“I’m working and do not have time to make out with my zombie boyfriend, no matter how sexy he is. For a dead guy.”
“Boyfriend, huh?” He couldn’t tell for sure in the dark, but he had a feeling she was blushing hard.
“I just . . . I mean . . . ”
He lifted his hand and ran his thumb across her bottom lip, excitement shooting through him. Boyfriend. He liked the sound of that.
“I like that, although I’m pretty sure the other undead fiends are going to shun my ass for dating a slayer.” Dipping his head, he put his lips right next to her ear, mindful enough to not drip any ooze on her. “I’m willing to risk it, though, to be with the sexiest woman in the world.”
She gripped his shoulders and pulled back to stare up at him, a sweetly mischievous smile on those full lips. “I’m still not going to make out with you like that.”
“Whoa, who said anything about making out? What, am I just a piece of rotting meat to you?”
“You’re never going to stop with the zombie jokes, are you?”
“What’s the matter with a little corpse humor?”
“Despite your rather revolting costume and terrible sense of humor”—one of her hands strayed downward to cup his ass—“I still find you unbelievable sexy.”
“Oh, yeah? So, I’m bringing sexy back . . . from the dead?”
“Okay, I’m done!” Callie released him and turned back toward her laptop. Everett’s gaze trailed down and in the flickering lights, he noticed the tight leather pants she was wearing, which hugged every curve from her waist to her calves.
Damn.
Just having her in his arms was turning him on, and he didn’t want to let her go. He’d been holding back all week, but it was like he was suddenly possessed by a tiny demon that was making him painfully horny but too scared to act on it. Not that he was really scared of her, but after making such a big deal about their first time being special, it now seemed hypocritical to seduce her during The Wizard of Oz or after a marathon of her favorite How I Met Your Mother episodes.
Maybe tonight, if he set the mood right, things would be perfect.
As soon as he washed the shit off his face.
“So how’s about you and I sneak off and find a little crypt for two?”
“I can’t leave until one thirty, more like two, after the equipment is all packed up.”
“Well, then, what if I just kept you company?” He played with the edge of her pants as his lips found her neck, nipping and kissing a trail down to the collar of her shirt. She tilted her head, and he reached up to move her hair out of the way, sucking on her skin. He pressed his hard cock against her, wondering if she knew what she was doing to him.