For Better or Hearse

by Ava Hunter

“But I want you. Naked.” His heated gaze lands on her lips. “You turn me on. So fucking much.”

She grabs him by the collar, the move so rough she can’t be sure she doesn’t pop a seam, and drags him into her room.

“Do you know?” he rumbles, blue eyes shining with a gleam of lust, as he moves toward her, “how goddamn beautiful you are?” “Flattery will get you everywhere,” she breathes out as her heart slams against her ribs. “Especially into my bed.”

“So fucking gorgeous,” he murmurs, taking her in his arms. “My morbid little beauty.”

“Ash.” His voice is hungry. Faintly amused. “Shut up and let me fucking taste you.”

Breathing heavily, she blinks up at him. “It’s supernatural. Your arrogance.” “And you are so very lovely and wicked.”

Her turn to see him naked. It’s only fair.

If she’s lucky, he’ll plow into her like a monster truck.

Her favorite part of Nathaniel Whitford. Big, long-fingered, graceful hands. Lifesaving, waterfall-fingering hands.

Then he takes her chin hard between his fingers, stilling her. Traces her lower lip with one thumb. When he pulls it back, it’s stained in red lipstick. His frame shudders. “So it does come off.” He sounds pleased. “Only for you,” she purrs.

He gives his shaft a stroke, making it spring up harder. “Any way you want, Ash.” “I love ladies’ choice,” she growls, his words spurring her on.

“Fast, Nathaniel. Don’t stop, or I’ll kill you.”

“Scratch me up, Ash,” he grits out, his eyes flaring. “That’s right. Fucking wreck me.”

Lord Jesus, rapture her now.

The end of the world couldn’t stop her.

“I like the noises you make.” His rough voice sends a shiver through her. But his words are like silk draped over her skin. “In fact, I fucking love them.”

“I hate you,” she whispers, ludicrously exhausted yet obscenely content. He smiles against her throat. “Little liar.”

But the tips of her ears are bright red. Just like her lipstick. That red fucking lipstick that came off all over his cock last night.

He was obsessed with hating her, now he’s just plain obsessed with her.

She’s so fucking beautiful and mean, it messes with his mind.

He can’t help but want to take care of her. Maybe it’s the doctor in him. Maybe it’s because he actually cares about this chaotic girl. The thought of her being without sugar terrifies him.

She considers him, lips pursed. “I’m truly split between adoration and complete violence.”

His fucking dick twitches. He clenches his teeth, racks his brain for a topic that will force it back into playing dead.

“Truth,” he says, and Ash’s eyes bounce to his. “Sunsets or sunrises?” “Sunsets,” she answers. “They’re like nature’s last scream.”

Now that he’s started touching her, he can’t stop.

He’s powerless against her. He’d commit arson if she asked.

“You collect them, right? You’re in a new place, aren’t you?” His gaze skims her lips before settling on her face, soaking in her beauty. “Yeah.” He swallows through his suddenly dry throat. “I am.” That’s what he feels like with Ash. Like he’s in a new place. He’s a new him. Or maybe this is the him he’s always been.

“Try not to look so miserable,” he whispers. It takes everything in him not to bury his face in that cloud of hair. “Next to you,” she hisses back, “absolutely impossible.” “Little liar.”

So yes, she will fuck Nathaniel Whitford. Happily.

“I will be. As long as I’m needed.” “You’re needed,” he rasps, pulling her hand closer.

A gleam of heat in his gaze, he says, “I can’t stop thinking about you.” She tries hard to roll her eyes. “Because I made you come. Simple man.”

She’s only one strong kiss away from paralysis.

“Come to my room tonight. Don’t make me fucking beg.” He’s looking at her like he’ll die if he doesn’t get an answer. If it’s anything but yes.

He leans over again. This time to kiss her bare shoulder. His beautiful creature. His dangerous obsession.

The wild thrill of Ash Keller is his new favorite thing.

He knows he told her no feelings, but he’s wondering if that ship hasn’t sailed.

Making a sound of annoyance, she rotates like a kebab to absorb maximum Nathaniel Whitford warmth. Hard chest, check. Cleaving arms, check.

It’s just green flag after green flag with him.

“Ash? What are you doing up?” “Oh, uh…” God, she can’t tell the woman that less than twenty minutes ago, her son was folding her up like a lawn chair.

And goddamn does that lipstick ever come off?

Touching her is a necessity. Another way—a better way—to live.

His cock could punch through drywall.

His gaze falls to her lips, then lowers. Her boots. “Hold on,” he says, and he hits his knees. For a long minute, Ash is stunned speechless. She blinks down at him. Eagerly, he slides a hand over her slim calf and looks up at her. “Watching you nearly die every day is fucking killing me,” he growls, tightening her laces.

Before he can say a word, Augustus says, “Something on your mind?” Ash. She’s on his mind.

“No matter what you wear. Stomping boots. Vampire garb. White dresses that fuck up my heartbeat. I love it all.”

The boneheaded man isn’t even trying to play hands off.

They’re always moving for each other. Reaching. Touching.

Nathaniel’s staring daggers at his father. “Apologize to her now.” “It’s fine.” Her heart hammers with adrenaline. Her chest is tight with rage. “I’m fine.” In fact, she’s only getting started.

“I’ve never seen him so soft for someone else before.” She’s soft for him too.

“Hi.” He angles in and kisses those red lips. Like it’s natural. Like there’s no other earthly choice but to be drawn to her.