Page 39 of Squad Ghouls

“Follow us!” Owain yelled back.

Please don’t.

I entered the kitchen and startled old Harold into fleeing with a slice of Bronwyn’s pie he couldn’t even fucking eat. I ignored him and began pulling the cupboards open, frantically searching.

“The snacks are over here, Ryan.”

My hand closed on a box of precious salt that was already half-empty and I pulled it out, other condiments scattering across the counter and floor.

When I turned, Owain had a Snickers bar in his hand.

I snatched it and ripped it open, biting a chunk off. “Great, thanks.”

“That’s for the ghost!”

“No, this is for the ghost,” I said, watching the walls bleed more goo just before she flickered into view in the doorway.

I threw the salt at her, the arc making her scream and phase out. She took the lights in the entire building with her as she went, plunging us into darkness.

There was no way that was going to keep her gone for long, but it had bought us some time.

“Ryan!” Owain gasped, his hand finding mine in the dark.

I shoved the remnants of the chocolate bar in my pocket. “No need to thank me, babe. Got a light tucked away anywhere?”

“That was mean.”

“She’s mean. Is there a junk drawer?” I asked, feeling around the counters.

Owain felt his way over using my chest as a guide. It lasted long enough that I raised a brow. “If you’re looking for a torch on me you’ll have to go a bit lower. Fair warning, it needs a bit of friction to get going, but I think you’re already familiar.”

“Really?” Owain asked, actually moving his hand in that direction.

I caught it in surprise. “I was joking, love. Ever heard of an innuendo?”

“Oh.”

He sounded so fucking innocent and cute that the weird urge to scoop him up and cuddle him and the desire to ravage him silly at the same time overwhelmed me. The opposing wants tied my stomach in confusing knots. The intimacy of the darkness around us didn’t help matters, Owain’s breaths tickling my neck, his heat radiating into mine.

I was only ever this close to someone if I was trying to get inside them. Casual intimacy wasn’t really in my wheelhouse. If someone wanted to cuddle, it was usually time for me to go.

So why didn’t I feel that uncomfortable desire to pull away now?

We’d already danced the dance, so to speak. We’d both had fun and gotten off. Usually I was good after a round, maybe two, the spark waning. Why did this feel different? Like I wanted rounds five, six, and seven already when we hadn’t even reached two. Maybe even that wasn’t going to be enough. I could feel a hunger growing. An obsession forming. And I didn’t know what to do about it.

“Ryan?” Owain asked, like he was checking I was still there even though he was holding on to me.

I tipped my head down and whispered, “Yeah?”

“I keep a torch in the left-hand drawer,” he said.

I took hold of his waist and moved us carefully in that direction, my other hand holding on to the counter to guide us.

Owain scooted past me, keeping a hand on my chest to keep his bearings as I heard drawers opening and rummaging. A click sounded before a beam of light sliced through the thick darkness.

“Okay. Let’s get that gorgeous butt moving, preferably in the direction of my stuff,” I said and watched him scrunch his nose. I grasped his chin between my fingers. “Owain.”

“But we should try and talk to her. You can’t just shoot everything!”