Chapter 10: Walkers Don't Do This

Joni's POV

My apartment had never felt small until Holt Covington stood in the middle of it.

His head nearly brushed the hanging lamp over the table.

Bear walked three circles on the rug, flopped down in front of the radiator and shut his eyes with a groan.

"I'm sorry about the paper," Holt said.

"I know."

"I'm not sorry I wanted to help."

"I know that too."

"I'll ask first."

"Every time?"

"Every time."

I leaned against the counter, because my knee was throbbing and I wasn't going to say so.

The sky in the window was going from black to gray.

"You sat in that truck for an hour," I said.

"Closer to two."

"For nothing."

"For you."

My chest did something painful and warm at once.

I crossed the kitchen and stopped in front of him, close enough to feel the heat of his shirt.

"Walkers don't do this," Holt said.

It was my own line, thrown back at me in a low voice, and I felt my mouth go crooked.

"I'm not a walker right now."

"No?"

"No."

"Then what are you?"

I took hold of his collar with both hands and pulled his face down to mine.

He kissed me hard, a week of holding back all in it.

His hands came up under my jacket and pushed it off my shoulders, and it fell on the floor.

His mouth moved to my jaw, then to the side of my throat, and my head went back against the cabinet.

"Holt."

"Say my name."

"Holt. Don't stop."

He lifted me.

He did it easily, an arm under my thighs, careful of the knee.

He carried me through the door to the bedroom with his mouth still on mine.

The sheets were cold and I didn't feel them.

He set me down on the edge of the bed and knelt in front of me.

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