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“Think harder.”
I frowned. “I don’t…”
He closed the space between us, grabbing a fistful of T-shirt and yanking me against him.
The kiss was like him. Intense. Uncompromising. Unapologetic. The best I’d ever had. His thigh pressed between mine, and I ground my cock against it, our mouths learning, taking.
When we broke apart, I was breathless. “Well, there’s that.”
I knew he wasn’t suggesting a transaction, that this was August finally admitting to the attraction that had simmered between us since the moment we’d met. Even while trying to one-up each other in August’s room, it had been there. It was how he’d known he could distract me so easily in the fire station by dancing provocatively.
Still reeling, I blurted, “How’s your tongue?”
August’s lips twitched. “You tell me. You just carried out a thorough examination of it.”
I refused to blush like a teenage girl. “It felt alright to me.”
The twitch became a grin, but only briefly. “Well, there you go, then.” August cupped my cheek, his expression suddenly serious. “I’m only going to say this once, so listen up.”
“I’m listening.” I was drowning in his eyes, but I was also listening.
“Thank you for coming back for me, and thank you for not being sixty seconds later. I like my tongue, and I can’t imagine a life without it. Especially not one chained to a wall while some pervert plays scientist.”
“I like your tongue, too.”
He laughed, patted my cheek, and stepped back. “Cross your fingers.”
“What?”
“I’m going to try starting the bike. Fingers crossed it works.”
I held my crossed fingers up, still trying to get my cock to lend some blood to my brain. “What if it doesn’t?”
“Then we’re walking to Dover, and leaving most of the stuff we collected behind.” August swung his leg over the bike and sat. He turned the key, checked something on the dash, and then retracted the kickstand with his foot. His finger hovered over a button. “The moment of truth.”
I held my breath, only letting it out when the engine roared to life. “You’re a genius.”
He smiled. “No, I’m a dirty liar. But I have my moments.” He killed the engine and leaned the bike back on its stand. “Now let’s burn this place to the ground.”
“We should probably kill the biters first, so they don’t get loose.”
August pulled a face before offering a reluctant nod. “You’re right. Let’s kill some biters, burn the place, and then get the fuck out of here.”
Chapter Seventeen
August
The bike had gotten us to Oxford where I’d left it in the hands of a grizzled man with a dark beard and a ruddy complexion, who’d assured me there wasn’t an old-world engine he couldn’t fine-tune. Faced with my obvious skepticism, he’d led me to the yard at the back of his house. In which, there wasn’t one bike, but five, all in varying states of being stripped down. It had been enough to reassure me he had at least some rudimentary knowledge. Keaton stayed quiet, seeming to find the entire conversation amusing for reasons I couldn’t fathom.
From there, we’d sought a meeting with Thaddeus Archer, the elected leader of the community. What should have been a quick conversation had stretched far longer, Thaddeus asking us question after question about Osvaldo Conway, and not happy to let us leave until we’d drawn him an extensive map of the area and told him absolutely everything we knew.
Before the end of the meeting, he’d organized a team of men to comb the woods and sniff out Oz’s traps the following day. The interrogation left me desperately needing a drink, Keaton not arguing when I dragged him to the closest bar and got stuck into a bottle of whiskey. It didn’t escape my attention that he drank far less of it than I did, one glass to my every two. More for me.
“This feeling,” I said, clapping a hand to my chest just above my heart. “It’s not something I’m familiar with.”
Keaton paused with the glass pressed to his lips. “Feeling?”
I tapped my fingers against my chest, Keaton following the motion. “Nothing to do with you, so get your mind out of the gutter.”
