The Savage Dead Read Online Free PDF

rejection by now, but it was always awkward, and it always hurt.
    Not knowing what else to say, he started to turn away. But then she put a hand on his wrist. He looked at her hand, at her slender fingers and perfectly manicured nails, then up to her face. She was smiling, and it was a wicked little grin.
    “What is it?” he said. He wasn’t sure why he was whispering, but he was.
    “I was so upset when they pulled us apart, Paul. Please, let’s not go away so quickly again.”
    “Well, okay. Sure. I have a lot of phone calls to make, though. You won’t be too bored?”
    Her smile turned demure. “Paul.”
    “What?”
    “Don’t you have a room here in the hotel?”
    “A room?” For a moment he didn’t understand. And then he did. “Oh,” he said. “Oh, a room. Yeah, I sure do, but . . .”
    “But what?”
    “Well, Monica, I . . . God, I’ve got about a million things I have to do before I talk with the senator again. I have a press conference to put together and . . .” He trailed off there. She was frowning, the disappointment plain on her face. She looked embarrassed. He couldn’t believe he was saying no to this woman, but what was he supposed to do?
    And then, like she was reading his mind, she smiled and said, “I understand. You are a dedicated man. I like that. I respect that. A man should be a man when it comes to his job. Perhaps we will see one another again some time.”
    “I . . .”
    But she had already turned away. He watched the way her dress moved as she walked, the liquefaction of her clothes, and he knew he’d never have a chance at something this good ever again.
    Ah, hell, he thought.
    “Monica, wait!”
     
     
    Paul had his coat off and was struggling to get loose of his tie before they’d even closed the door. He had his hands all over her, and she on him, the two of them kissing, squeezing, exploring each other.
    He groped for the light switch. Couldn’t find it.
    “Damn,” he said.
    “Leave it off,” Monica said, breathing hard. Her eyes were bright in the darkness, staring up at him. Paul had read in books of women whose faces were lit with passion like that, and he’d always thought such things to be the purple prose of hack writers. He certainly never thought he’d see it firsthand.
    “Monica,” he gasped.
    Her long black hair had turned into a beautiful tangled mess after their ride up in the elevator. He loved the way it spilled over her shoulders. He loved the way her black dress clung to her breasts, to her hips. She was fantastic. She leaned in close to him, close enough he could smell the honeysuckle of her perfume and feel the heat of her breath on his neck. Her arms went around his waist, and the next instant, his cummerbund fell to the floor.
    He didn’t even feel the buckle come loose.
    Staring into her eyes, all he could manage was to shake his head in amazement.
    “Paul,” she whispered, “take me to your bed.”
    He nodded, his Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat like a piston.
    Still smiling, she led him into the room, where the couch was stacked with his work for Senator Sutton—journals and legal briefs and notepads.
    He stopped in the middle of the room and waited, like a lamb on the altar.
    Paul had left a reading light on over by the bed, and in its soft glow he watched her coming closer and closer.
    “You are—”
    “Shhh,” she said, putting a finger over his lips. “You saved me tonight. You were so brave.”
    Even in his aroused, lust-blind state, he knew that wasn’t exactly true, but it didn’t matter. When he looked into her eyes, nothing mattered. She made him feel like a hero, and when she turned those dark, doe eyes up at him, the rest of the world fell away.
    She undid his cuff links and the studs on his shirt. Watching her loosening his clothes, he could barely believe the chain of events that had led them here, like it was meant to be.
    “I can’t believe you’re here with me,” he said.
    “I am not in the habit of