Only Love Survives (Love and Zombies) by Renee Charles

and plundered her mouth. There was no slow, gentle permission seeking that should be present in a first kiss. They were past that. It was hot, wet and demanding, which she met with demands of her own. God, she could argue with that tongue even without saying a word.
    Her hands slipped under his wet shirt and left fiery trails across his stomach muscles as she ran her fingers along the top of his jeans, then tugged at the snap. It burst open, and she reached down his fly. He shuddered with the effort to remain in control, but suddenly the tables turned and she was in charge. The fire running through his veins made him forget the cold water, the forest around them, everything but her and the desire in her eyes. When she stepped back and unzipped her own pants, he had a clear view of her nipples pressing through the wet T-shirt and lace of her bra.
    Sam reached for her with a growl. Wrapping one arm around her for support, he captured the pink flesh in his teeth…shirt, bra and all. He felt her struggling out of her wet pants under the surface of the water and used his free hand to help her, then tossed the pants and panties on the rock next to his shirt. Megan wound her arms around his neck stretching her warmth against him. He slid his hands down her body and lifted both her thighs around his waist, plunging deep into her slick folds with one thrust. She threw her head back and moaned. When he withdrew, she leaned forward and captured his mouth in a frenzied kiss matching his hunger. It felt wrong to use her like this, but her hunger seemed as strong as his.
    He tried to slow the pace, to linger and get the job done right. She clasped him harder and set the rhythm for him, driving him half-mad with the need to fill his hollow existence with her body and connect with her in every way humanly possible. He rocked her against his flesh until she tensed in his arms and cried out in pleasure. The gentle spasms around his manhood sent him over the edge, and he held her tight as his own orgasm overtook him with one final pulsating drive into her soft flesh.
    Sam rested his forehead against hers while he tried to catch his breath, but Megan pulled away and unwrapped her legs from his hips.
    “Stay,” he rasped, not ready to give up the proximity of her soft, warm body.
    “I need my pants.” She wiggled free and didn’t look at him.
    Sam reluctantly gave up his hold on her and watched Megan bounce the three steps over to the rock where her pants sat. Every other woman he’d ever met, okay…slept with , usually tried to get her hooks in him at this point. Her sudden retreat confounded him.
    He was drawn to Megan in a way he’d never been to anyone before. She was an amazing puzzle that warranted sorting out.
    Horrified by her behavior, Megan couldn’t bring herself to look at Sam, but she felt the weight of his stare. He followed her every move. She’d never acted like such a slut in all her life. In fact, she’d only slept with two other men before. A boyfriend in college and the jerk she broke up with six months before the epidemic started, both of which had been long-term relationships. She was starting to care about Sam and now she’d behaved like a nympho in search of a last meal. What had she been thinking?
    The darn pants fought back while Megan struggled to pull them on under the water. Once she got them fastened she could speak again, but did not dare look him in the eye.
    “I’m so sorry. I don’t know what came over me.”
    He startled her by closing the distance between them, capturing her in his arms again and lightly brushing her lips with his.
    “Don’t be. I’m not.” Sam whispered against her mouth causing more shivers to course through her with a power that rivaled the river around them.
    “I’m so embarrassed. I never…” She still couldn’t bring herself to look at him. He must have known, because he reached down and lifted her face to meet his gaze with a gentle finger bent under her