White Trash Zombie Apocalypse (White Trash Zombie 3) - Page 10

“Uh, sure,” he said in a very unconvincing tone of voice. “Didn’t have to climb any fences did we?”

We wound our way through a dim passageway beneath the seating, then up a set of concrete stairs and onto a covered walkway that ran around the perimeter of the stadium. “This sure is, um, romantic,” I said, casting him a dubious look.

“Didn’t know you were looking for romance,” he said, still grinning as we stepped out onto the bleachers. “Come on,” he urged as he began to climb.

“You’re so weird,” I said, but I went with him.

“You mean besides being a zombie?” he said, shooting me an amused glance over his shoulder.

“Well, yeah,” I said, grinning. “That zombie shit’s old hat now.”

We reached the top of the stairs, and I allowed Marcus to lead me behind the scoreboard and then up a narrow ladder to a hidden alcove above the walkway. He let go of my hand and spread out the thick blanket. I looked out over the empty stadium from our lofty vantage. State of the art, no doubt about that. From the swanky all-glass press box to the perfect grass on the field with Tucker Point emblazoned in the end zones it screamed, We obsess way too hard over high school football, and don’t you forget it!

“Okay,” I said. “This is kinda cool.”

His gaze went out to the view “Not so creepy up here.”

I sat down on the blanket. “Well, you are a zombie, so automatically creepy.”

“Wait,” he protested. “A few seconds ago the zombie aspect was old hat.” He stripped off his damp shirt and dropped it to the concrete. “I think you just say stuff that’s convenient in the moment.”

“Yeah? You don’t seem to mind too much.” I leaned back on my elbows and admired the view. And not the one out in the stadium. “For a sorta-dead guy, you’re pretty hot.”

Marcus flexed his right bicep. “I eat my Brainies.” He unbuttoned his jeans then struck a deliberately ridiculous muscle pose.

“Oh my god.” I laughed. “Cut that out and come show my bits what your Brainies do for you.”

He proceeded to show me in great detail exactly what his Brainies could do for my bits, paying special attention to certain bits, to my great delight. No matter what else I might have been unsure about with the two of us, there was no denying that the sex rocked. Marcus was attentive, fun, creative, and always made sure I got off.

And he was even great about doing the whole cuddling after stuff too.

“You like that?” he murmured as he held me close.

I gave him the smile of a very sexually satisfied woman. “My bits are happy.”

He chuckled low and gave me a light squeeze. I rested my head on his chest and listened to the thump of his heart. “I think I kinda like this date-adventure thing,” I said.

Marcus was quiet for a moment. “I think I kinda miss waking up next to you in the mornings.”

The statement brought a warm rush of pleasure, along with a chaser of guilt and a splash of frustration. We’d been dating—really actually dating—for about six months now. I wanted to keep the pace super slow, and he wanted us to be, well, an actual honest-to-god couple. But after the long slogging mess of my previous relationship with Randy-the-loser, I wanted to be sure everything was right before getting too caught up in things like spending the night, and moving in together, and whatever else might come after that. I also wanted to be sure we were together because we were actually compatible, and not simply because we were both zombies.

I slid a hand over his chest. It was a damn nice chest. “Yeah, but I like that we’re taking the time to really get to know each other.”

“And you don’t think that can happen the other way?” he asked. To his credit there was only the faintest whisper of disappointment in his voice.

“Marcus, it’s…different, okay?” I said with a low sigh. Tilting my head back, I looked up into his face. “Yeah, we’d get to know each other if I spent the night with you or lived with you, but…” I trailed off with a grimace, wishing I could explain it better. “I just think it’s too soon.”

He couldn’t completely mask the letdown, but he smiled and kissed me. “Okay, I can take a hint. Or a two by four,” he added with a slightly forced chuckle.

Damn it. “Marcus. I’m not saying it’ll never happen.” Why couldn’t he understand? Sure, six months was a long time. But we were both…well, we had the potential to live a damn long time. And I didn’t want to screw this up.

“It’s all right, babe,” he said, and for a moment I could almost believe that it was. “One day at a time,” he continued. “I can do that.”

I snuggled close, and he tightened his arm around me. The warm air and the drumming of rain on the metal roof lulled us both into boneless relaxation. Safe and content for the moment, I closed my eyes and allowed myself to drift into a doze.

* * *

“It doesn’t make sense.”

Tags: Diana Rowland White Trash Zombie Fantasy
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