I took his lips between my teeth and bit down, not hard enough to hurt, but hard enough to make him whine. It was a small, plaintive sound that made my dick throb.
“Isaac-” he gasped.
“Roman,” I moaned into his mouth.
His hands reached under my t-shirt and he rubbed my back with sturdy palms, his touch somehow light and firm at the same time. Fireworks exploded where he touched me. Kissing Roman for real took kissing to new heights. Every part of him enthralled me, from his shy smile to his calloused fingertips, and lower. Between my jeans and his cargo pants, there was too much fabric between us, and I could feel every time his cock twitched.
I ground up against him so he could feel how much I wanted him. “Is that an EMF meter in your pocket or are you happy to see me?” I whispered in his ear.
He pulled away sharply. “It’s my EMF meter. And we shouldn’t do this.”
Damn it. I shouldn’t have broken the kiss. “Fine.” I climbed off him, a difficult task in this small of a space. “So which one of your rules does this go against?”
“We can’t get distracted. This is a serious investigation. Both of us need to focus.”
I hated Roman’s rules. “Then can I kiss you after we solve the case?” The words coming out of my mouth surprised me. Why was I chasing this guy? I wasn’t even sure I liked him.
No, that wasn’t true. I knew I liked him. There was no way I could have spent this much time with someone I didn’t like. And I was obviously attracted to him; my aching dick made that clear.
He looked like he was going to answer yes, but he changed his mind at the last minute. “After this case, there will be another serious investigation for me to focus on.”
“Surely it wouldn’t be so bad to keep me around for that one too.” What the hell was I saying? That kiss must have melted my brain. Roman had melted my brain. “I can be useful, right?”
“Feelings are complicated,” said Roman. “I need to keep my mind clear.”
“You can’t decide not to have feelings.” I knew I sounded petulant. I was used to being second best to other men (and women), but this was the first time I’d come in behind dead people.
“Yes, I can.”
I glared at him.
“Isaac, I’m sorry.” He truly looked sorry, his eyes wide and pleading. “I can’t fall for you.”
“I don’t need a relationship, I’m not-” I was more pissed off than I had the right to be.
“If you want to get laid, there are plenty of people in Seattle who’d jump at the chance.”
“But you’re not one of them.”
He stayed silent. I crept away, slipping out from under the sheet. Hopefully Lance and Ben were gone, because I couldn’t bear a second more of this. “I’m going to find a way for us to sneak out of here. Wait there.”
***
Olivia’s friend, Thomas, was nice. He was good looking, too, tall and muscular, with dark hair and ridiculously long eyelashes. He was totally my type.
On paper, Thomas was a good match. He was relaxed, he was chatty, and he had a wicked laugh. He’d also grown up Mormon before leaving the church in his late teens, but his family accepted him when he came out as bi.
“Mom and Dad prefer it when I date women,” he said. “But they don’t want to lose me, and they know that if they don’t accept that I’m gonna date men too, I’m sure as shit not going to accept them.”
“That’s nice,” I said dully. I was listening to Thomas, but I couldn’t take in what he was saying. I kept thinking about Roman and how much I would rather be at this little French bistro with him, eating Coq au Vin with him, listening to his deep, somber voice scold me for something I didn’t care about.
Which was exactly why I was on this date. I needed to cleanse my palate. Although I was starting to think that getting Roman out of my head would be impossible. I had set up this date as soon as we escaped the basement, but the more time I spent with Thomas, the more I wanted Roman.
“How do you know Olivia?” Thomas asked, changing tact.
I didn’t know what to say. Olivia and Thomas were friendly co-workers, but he probably didn’t know much about the part of her life that included me. Most people didn’t talk to work friends about their past as a pickpocket.
“We were friends after I left home,” I said.
“How did you two meet?”
Well, we had the same speed dealer. “Around. It was a long time ago.”
“Are you normally this chatty?” His face fell. “Sorry, that was rude.”
But I laughed. “Nah, I’m the one being rude. My brain isn’t home today.” My brain was under that dresser with Roman, not breaking any kisses this time. That, or it was ruminating about murder.
“I know what that’s like,” Thomas said.
“Mhmm.” That first-date silence descended upon the pair of us.
If Roman were here, he wouldn’t be nursing a glass of Riesling and making small talk. He would be holding a glass of water, eating something too green to taste good, and making snide comments about my beer and greasy meal. Why did I want to be around someone like that? What had gripped my mind and made me so infatuated with someone so utterly wrong for me? Someone who had made it perfectly clear he didn’t want me?
If you want to get laid, there are plenty of people who would jump at the chance, he had told me. So I went out and found one.
“Olivia told me you were her best friend back when things were bad,” Thomas was saying.
I nodded. Maybe Olivia had told him more than I realized. “I’ve been out of the city for three years, though,” I said. I used my fork to prod my chicken through the wine sauce. It was delicious, sweet and tender enough to melt on my tongue, but I was finding it hard muster an appetite. “I missed a lot.”
“I know,” he said. “Olivia missed you. She talked about you all the time. I’ve known about this mysterious Isaac-who-would-be-perfect-for-me for years.”
Guilt dropped into my stomach. I shouldn’t have disappeared the way I did, but I hated goodbyes. Besides, it was typical of our group for people to drop out without warning. I was surprised I had mattered to someone enough for them to miss me.
“She was excited when you got back,” continued Thomas. “She was excited to set us up, too.”
I glanced up. Now Thomas was poking his meal with his fork.
“Do you want to go back to my place?” I asked suddenly.
“Oh. Olivia said you were looking for a relationship, not-”
“I’m not looking for a relationship. Or maybe I am. I’m confused right now.”
“Is there someone else you’re interested in?” he asked.
I raised my eyebrows at him.
“I’m not going to be offended if there is. I’m kind of hung up on someone myself.”
“Olivia, right?”
He blushed. “Am I that obvious?”
“Yes, you are.”
“She’s pretty great.” Thomas cleared his throat. “But I’ve asked her out, and she said no, so I’m moving on.”
That struck me as strange. From the way Olivia had talked about Thomas, I’d been certain she had feelings for him too.
“I guess we’re in the same boat.”
“What’s your person like?”
“His name is Roman. He’s a newly unemployed ghost hunter.”
“A ghost hunter?”
“I know, it’s ridiculous. But it’s a lot of fun,” I confessed.
Thomas grinned. “Especially with him, right?”
I nodded. “Especially with him,” I echoed.
“I know what that’s like. When I’m with Olivia, even work is fun.”
“You don’t like your job?” I asked, trying to engage in the conversation.
“I don’t hate it. But, uh, it’s not the dream. I actually went to film school.” He ran his hands through his hair. “But you know how getting a job is.”
“I’m a phone psychic. I definitely know.”
“She said the same thing about you.”
“But we’re just friends,” said Thomas firmly. “She made that clear.”
“So did Roman. So do you want to go fuck out our feelings, or what?” Roman wouldn’t be in my room tonight. He had left the hotel for the evening, allegedly to avoid Ben and Lance. It was an unpersuasive excuse. After our kiss today, the person Roman wanted to avoid was me.
He looked taken aback. “You’re very blunt.”
At least I was upfront about what I wanted. No cryptic messages, like Roman was such a fan of. “What do you say?”
He stretched his arms over his head. “Let’s go.”
Neither of us had anyone better to do, right?
***
I hadn’t anticipated what it would look like to Ben when I entered the lobby hand-in-hand with Thomas, while I was supposed to be dating Roman.
I dropped Thomas’s hand as though it had burned me, but it was too late. I’d already met Ben’s eyes, and he’d already smirked.
“What’s up?” said Thomas. “Do you want to back out of this?”
“No, I’m good.” I didn’t want Thomas, and he didn’t want me. But neither of us could have what we wanted. We would settle for each other tonight. My pent-up frustration with Roman had reached boiling point, and Thomas was willing to help me release it.
I led him to the elevator. “Heads up, my room is haunted.”
He snorted. “I don’t believe in ghosts.”
That was what I looked for in a partner. Someone with a good head on their shoulders, someone who made sense, who listened to reason. Thomas was attractive and likable. I could have fun with him.
But all I wanted was someone who believed in ghosts, someone who spoke in jargon I would never understand, who hated Ghostbusters and never listened to me at all.
Stop it. I needed to get Roman off my mind.
When I opened the door to room 1405, it looked bigger than usual. Roman had taken all his stuff with him when he left for the night, and it struck me how little was left.”
“That’s the bed,” I said, pointing. “I don’t have much else.”
“I suppose we won’t need much else,” said Thomas.
“Yeah.” I turned around to kiss him. His face was nice, and the promise of getting laid was turning me on. But this wasn’t what I wanted. I closed my eyes. Better.
When I met Thomas’s lips with my own, our kiss was empty. He wasn’t a bad kisser, but his lips didn’t have the heat, strength, or desperation I had felt from Roman today. His touch wasn’t heavy and yearning. In the past, I liked kissing strangers. But this was like kissing nothing.
I pulled away. “Sorry. You’re a great guy, but I don’t think I can do this.”
“Thank god!” said Thomas. His hands snapped away from my shoulders. “I don’t think I can do this either. And you’re a great guy too.”
We grinned at each other.
“Well, this was the worst blind date ever,” I said.
“I’ve had worse.” Thomas chuckled. “Once I got set up with a Republican.”
I shuddered.
“If you want,” I suggested. “I can find out what Olivia really thinks of you.”
His face dropped. “I don’t want to know. I want to move on, but I don’t think I’m ready yet.”
Fair enough.
The walls creaked, then thumped, and Thomas leaped into the air. “What was that?”
I shrugged. “The ghosts.”
“That’s actually creepy,” he said.
“Yeah.”
“Hey,” he said, face lighting up. “If you get any of this ghost stuff on camera, I could set you up a YouTube channel and produce a show. It might do well.
I chuckled. “I can’t see a world where Roman would ever agree to that.”
Disappointment flashed over Thomas’s face, but he covered it quickly.
“I’ll try to talk him into it,” I said. “But it’s like talking to a statue sometimes.”
Thomas nodded. “He’s stubborn?”
“The stubbornest.”
The ceiling let out a low moan, and the doorframe shuddered.
“That’s probably my cue to leave,” said Thomas, backing toward the door. “See you around. I had a nice time tonight.”
Did he? I ignored him, then tried to seduce him, then decided I didn’t want to seduce him after all, and I brought him into the Chamber of Creepiness? It must have been a terrible date on his end, but he smiled cheerily and waved as he left.
And then I was alone again. Really alone. Except for my good old friends, the ghosts making noises in the walls. I sighed.
I wasn’t in a good situation. The way I saw it, I had two options. I could either keep pursuing Roman, or I could leave him alone and move on.
If tonight was any indication, I couldn’t move on unless I stopped seeing him. But I’d agreed to help with his investigation, which meant that I couldn’t stop seeing him until we’d busted these ghosts.
I sighed. I had no idea what to do. I felt lost. I leaned against the groaning wall, wishing Roman was here with his baggie of tea. It was too late for coffee, and I needed a hot drink to calm down.
My duffel bag toppled from the bed to the floor with a loud thud. I jumped instinctively, but the fear was gone in an instant. I had gotten used to weird happenings in this room. It was nothing new for my stuff to randomly move around.
Roman would want to know what kind of psychic activity I was dealing with tonight, but it seemed silly to trouble him with something this minor. It was a bag falling down, for god’s sake. If I told Roman, he’d overreact and show up at my door, regardless of what Ben and Lance might think. As much as I wanted some tea, that was a bad idea for both of us.
Roman was too cautious. I stared at the bag and the spirit board poking out the corner of it. He was unreasonably cautious, wasn’t he?
I had honored my stupid promise to Roman and refrained from using my spirit board since I got to the Cressley. If ghosts could move real objects like my bag, they could certainly move the planchette to different letters on the board. What was the worst that could come of talking to the dead?
I lay my gear on the floor as though I was doing any old street reading. I’d never done a reading for myself before. Despite all my experience, I was clueless now. I had become the very thing I preyed on: someone seeking closure from beyond. Foreboding struck me, but I shook it off. I was being paranoid. Roman had gotten into my head.
I put the spirit board in the middle of my embroidered tapestry and placed four tea light candles around myself. My hand shook around the matches, and fire snapped at my fingertips. Once four little flames were flickering, I sat cross-legged in front of the set-up, feeling like an absolute loser.
“If there’s anyone here now,” I said, unsure of what to say without a living audience to manipulate, “use this spirit board to communicate with me, I guess.”
Something hissed behind me. I glanced around sharply, but the room was empty. I rubbed my fingers over Roman’s peridot pendant, grounding myself in the smooth sensation and letting it give me strength. I could do this. I was being irrational.
“Okay,” I said. I delicately put my two forefingers on the planchette. The moment I touched it, I felt cold, like I’d stepped out of a shower in the middle of winter. “If you want to communicate, now’s the time to do it.”
Nothing happened. My breath shuddered and my heart raced, but the planchette stayed still. I was about to move my hands away when it slid across the board. Unlike every other time I’d done this, I had no control over where the planchette went. My hands jerked over the board.
S-A-N-D-R-A
“Sandra Keene?” I was starting to feel faint. I couldn’t believe I was doing this; I couldn’t believe it was working. What would I tell Roman?
Two candles flickered and died. The planch
ette moved to the word at the outer edge of the board.
Yes.
If I had been cold before, now it felt like ice was running through my veins. I froze from the inside out, immobile except for my hands. And my hands weren’t under my control anymore. My stomach lurched. Maybe Roman had been right. Maybe this was a bad idea.
I couldn’t back out now. It was too late.
“Am I talking to Sandra right now?” I asked, but before I could finish my question, the ghost was already yanking at my frozen fingertips.
“U-N-”
Another candle down. I couldn’t help but feel as though this was dangerous, as though the candles had been protecting me somehow. Totally irrational. Candles were candles, good for nothing except blackouts and superstition. So why was I terrified that the last tea light would go out?
“D-E-R-”
“Under what?” I asked through numb lips.
But then the last candle extinguished, and a wave of nausea hit me in the stomach. I had been right to be afraid. I doubled over in pain the moment the light went out. It like was the worst ice-cream headache of my life, only quadrupled, and then a million times worse. I thought dimly through the pain that my head might actually split in two.
And then everything went black.
Chapter Twenty-One
Roman
I usually relished my little apartment, especially when my upstairs neighbors weren’t screaming at each other or throwing things. I valued solitude, silence, and time to catch my breath. But tonight I was uneasy. Isaac wasn’t responding to my texts.
I scrubbed a wine stain on the kitchen floor, trying to free my mind of him, but no matter how hard I scoured, the stain didn’t budge, and Isaac didn’t leave my thoughts.
I felt terrible about what happened between us in the basement. I wasn’t sure what was worse: that I’d kissed him, or that it hadn’t gone further than that. I knew from all our fake smooches that Isaac would be a good kisser, but kissing him in earnest had been better than I could have imagined. It was heaven. I wished I could have bottled the feeling. It was so much better than the heavy mess of emotions knotted around me now.
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