Kill Switch by Penelope Douglas

But just then, I stepped in something wet, my foot sloshing
in something on the ground.
“Oh, yuck.” I stepped away, inching into him to get away
from whatever the pool was on the ground. Smelled like
vodka. Someone must’ve spilled their drink.
Wrapping his arm around my waist, he picked me up, and I
circled my arms around his neck as he carried me over it.
“Thanks,” I told him.
But he didn’t put me down.
My legs dangled as he slowly walked, the sound of his
breathing through his mask even, like a machine.
Awareness made the hairs rise on my skin, and I felt so
dizzy all of a sudden. My voice barely registered above a
whisper. “I can walk now.”
He still didn’t put me down, though. Instead, he hefted me
up so my legs circled his waist, and the realization that the
man in my arms wasn’t Will washed over me in a panic so
savory it sank down low in my belly, warming every inch of
my body.
He carried me, his steps perfectly paced and heavy,
echoing in the hallway like they were coming for me and knew
exactly where I was hiding.
This wasn’t Will.
I knew it even before I slipped my fingers into the back of
his hair and felt the same little scars I’d come across years ago.
But in this moment, in the dark where I was someone else
and he was someone else, I didn’t pull away.
Why wasn’t I pulling away?
GGod, he felt good.
In my arms. I’d almost forgotten.
For just a few minutes, he was my ghost back in the house.
Taunting me.
Playing with me.