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I nodded. “Exactly. That’s how it feels. So I need to do this, and then maybe I’ll have the headspace for something else.”
“Maybe?” August’s question was sharp, his stare intense.
“I can’t think.” I fluttered my fingers near my temple. “It’s like bees in my head, all buzzing around in different directions. I need to silence them.”
August wrapped a hand around the back of my neck and yanked me forward, his lips coming down on mine. In true August style, it wasn’t a question; it was a demand. His tongue sought entrance, his hands busy—one pulling me flush, fingers digging into my arse, the other sliding into my hair.
It would be a lie to say I’d done much kissing before August. Sex, yes. Kissing, no. But I doubted anything would have compared favorably. I melted into him, every nerve recognizing only heat, muscle, desire, and pleasure.
Biters? Virus? All just words lost beneath a veil of lust.
As suddenly as it had begun, August ended it, tugging me back by the hair until I broke away. He held me there, inches apart, blue gaze locked on mine. “How are the bees?”
“What?”
“The bees.” He let go of my arse to perform an over-exaggerated parody of my earlier move. “The ones in your head.”
“Sleeping.” His self-satisfied grin made me shake my head. “You’re dangerous.”
“You better believe it, baby.” The grin faded before I could savor the endearment. “Promise me one thing.”
“What?”
“Drop the nothing else matters but revenge mindset. We find a way to do it so we both walk away.”
“And then we live happily ever after?” My voice dripped with snark.
August tipped his chin up. “Why not?”
“I’m infected, and you’re…”
“I’m…?”
“You’re you.” His flicker of emotion told me he wasn’t sure how to take that. “You’re never going to settle for a quiet life.”
“Who said anything about quiet? I was thinking about the adventures we could have together.”
“Maybe.” The idea wasn’t without merit, and for the first time since getting kicked out of the army, I could imagine a world beyond vengeance. A light at the end of the tunnel.
“So promise me,” August insisted.
“I promise.”
His slow smile pulled one from me too. He yanked me forward again, brushing my lips with his. “After,” he whispered.
“After,” I echoed.
He shoved me back, hard enough that I almost fell. “If the bees get too bad, tell me, and I’ll do my thing.”
“Your thing?”
“My thing. My fingers, tongue, and cock are at your disposal.”
I shook my head, smiling despite myself.
“Tell me everything you know about William Anderson,” August said between bites of breakfast, both of us now with a better appetite. He sat against the wall, long legs stretched out in front of him, while I sat on a rickety chair.
“I don’t know much,” I admitted. His slight eye roll said I could do better. “I already told you most of it.”
