Free Dead Sexy by Aleah Barley Page A

metal table next to mine. His jacket was folded under his head. His arms were crossed over his chest. “I’m not happy. No more fighting, Gemma. The next time you scare me like that, I’ll turn you over my knee and beat your ass until you scream.”
    Not only was I alive, but I was getting a lecture.
    From someone who wasn’t my mother.
    “Fuck. You,” I rasped.
    D.S. sat up and turned to face me. His legs swung off the side of the metal table. Emerald eyes gleamed across the narrow space. An arm unfolded and he reached out to run a finger across my leg. The sensation was sharp and sizzling. He grinned. “I never said why you’d be screaming.”
    Oh, damn. Lust hit me like a lightning bolt. Heat sizzled down my spine and rolled all the way down to my toes. 
    Living or dead, I didn’t give a damn. A girl can only take so much, and after more than twenty-four hours in close proximity with the sexiest dead man alive—a man who listened to what I had to say and was willing to shoot zombies to keep me alive—I was ready to go.
    My body thrummed anxiously as I swung my legs over the side of the table. My body was wobbly. I reached out to grab for him, wrapping my arms around his neck. My lips brushed against his mouth, fluttering softly.
    “Damn,” D.S. swore quietly. “You kiss like a school girl.”
    “Hick didn’t seem to mind.”
    “I’m going to make you forget about him.” His hand dropped my wrist and lifted to cup my chin. His head dipped once, twice, returning my soft kisses with gentle touches of his mouth against mine. Then he leaned into me. His body tensed as his mouth pressed against my lips. He tasted like whiskey and meat. His lips were cool to the touch, but after a moment they warmed against mine. His hand flickered against my cheek.
    It felt like there was a direct line of electricity moving connecting our two bodies.
    My hands dug into his flesh. My hips bucked wildly. I needed to feel him against me. To run my hands over his strong muscular body, touching every single inch of him.
    I felt like I was flying.
    “You’re so damn alive,” D.S. spoke quietly against my mouth. “I can’t believe I almost lost you.” His fingers curled around my waist. His body was so big, so strong, solid and reassuring. His lips drifted away from my mouth, moving down to nuzzle at the soft curve where my neck met my collarbone. “I—.”
    His body went rigid. He took a step back, yanking himself away from me. Fast. His foot banged against the metal table. His jaw was tight. His eyes glittered with cold fire. “You’ve been bitten.”
    .
     

12.
    “No. It’s impossible.” My hands balled up into fists. D.S. was lying. He had to be lying. There was no freaking way I’d been bitten. No way. Not even when the second zombie had snapped at me. His mouth so close I could hear the ‘clack’ of his jaw closing. Feel the pressure of his teeth against my skin.
    The pain.
    Shit. He had bitten me.
    My body was shaking. Hard. I couldn’t think. Couldn’t breathe. My mouth was open, but all the air in the room seemed to have vanished. I swallowed, hard. “It’s not possible,” I forced each word out through clenched teeth. “It’s been at least twenty minutes—.”
    “Closer to an hour,” D.S. said.
    “Almost an hour.” I raised a hand to my head, trying to figure out if I had a fever. My hand felt hot, but then the room was kept a couple of degrees lower than normal. It kept dead bodies from rotting. Dead bodies like me? “I should have a fever. I should be doubled over. Puking my brains out.” If it had really been close to an hour than the bite should have taken effect. I should be dead… or very, very, very sick.
    I needed to see my reflection. Were my pupils dilated? What about the rest of my body? I dragged at the hem of my borrowed dress, pulling the hem up over my head. “Am I sweating? What about rigor mortis?”
    If rigor mortis was beginning to set in then, I was definitely dead. I’d