by Krista Wolf
I definitely wanted to bite something. That was for sure.
Pushing the voice of reason aside, I nuked a bag of microwave popcorn and headed into the living room. The couch had been beckoning all day, and I meant to answer the call. Maybe I’d fall asleep, and I’d miss my rendezvous. Or maybe I’d find something interesting enough to keep me up, and I’d be knocking gently on Bryce’s door at the stroke of midnight.
Either way, I was going to let my body decide.
I walked the carpeted hall, through something the guys referred to as ‘the sitting room’ and into the makeshift living area. Camden was already there, one foot up on the leather ottoman. He was munching on a bag of Sun Chips; Garden Salsa, the flavor I liked.
“Movie night?” he smiled, as I walked in with my bowl.
“Sure. What’s on?”
He flipped me the remote, stretching back to interlace his fingers behind his head. It brought out his beautiful biceps. They looked like two giant potatoes, perched atop his tanned, well-muscled arms.
“Do you really want to put me in charge of the remote?” I laughed, as I sank down beside him.
“Why? You’re not gonna put on The Notebook are you?”
“Nah.”
His grin widened. “Kate Hudson? Matthew McConaughey?”
I ignored him, flipping through channel after channel. The guys had an impressive array of add-ons, I had to give them that. Finally I settled on an obscure movie I loved, then pushed the remote out of reach.
“Prince of Darkness?” Camden blinked twice.
“Ever see it?”
He shook his head.
“Get ready to be scared.”
Horror had always sort of been my thing. Not so much the jump-scare bullshit they were putting out today, but more of the slow burn, suspenseful type movies that really immersed you in the story.
“You can hold my hand if you need to,” I joked, popping a handful of popcorn into my mouth.
“Here…”
Shifting closer, Camden pulled a blanket down from behind the couch. He threw it over the both of us, until it covered us from the waist down.
“Don’t get any ideas,” he winked, as the movie started up. “This is just so you don’t get popcorn all over me.”
I chuckled, then pointed to a mess of crumbs all over his chest already. “You sharing those Sun Chips with your shirt?”
Camden blushed, but only a little. “Maybe.”
I scooted closer and plopped my bowl down between us. “Well share some with me, and I’ll let you dig into my popcorn,” I told him.
When his smile turned up at the edges, I added:
“Just my popcorn.”
Six
KARISSA
It didn’t happen all at once. But it definitely… happened.
It started with getting cozy and comfortable, leaning against one another as the snacks were finished and the movie wore on. The college kids wandered the creepy church basement. Alice Cooper shambled in, looking even more ghastly than normal in zombie-like makeup.
Sometime between the second dream sequence and the possession, we were holding hands under the blanket. I was pressed against Camden’s lean body, the fingers of his opposite hand traveling lightly up and down the inside of my arm. Normally such a motion would’ve put me to sleep. In this case it made me shiver with excitement, as our clasped hands rested warmly against my inner thigh.
That other hand moved upward, leaving the sanctity of the blanket. It moved slowly, tracing along my shoulder. The fingertips extending, to gently clasp the side of my face. I turned into him tentatively, questioningly. Then our eyes met… and our lips crashed inevitably together.
Holy shit.
My senses roared to life, tiny sparks of lightning flashing through my body as Camden breathed his passion into me. His lips were strong, yet supple. Totally commanding in the way they churned against mine, leaving me excited and breathless and paralyzed with pent-up desire.
The blanket shifted again as he pulled me on top of him. It happened quickly and easily, his strong arms lifting me like I weighed no more than a pillow. Before I knew it I was straddling his lap, one smooth thigh peeking copiously from my short shorts on either side of his big, powerful legs. And now I was holding his face. Leaning down to kiss him with passion and longing, as our tongues clashed and all sense of reality went flying out the window.
You’re out of your fucking mind, Karissa.
The voice of reason again. But right now, the way my body felt being held in his arms? That voice could fuck right off.
“Mmmm…”
Camden moaned into my mouth, all low and growly. Sexy as fuck. And I kept kissing him, my hair falling down over our faces to shield us from the world. The movie was background noise, the giant house all silent and still. We were in our own little world on the couch. Making out with each other desperately, like teenagers in the back seat of a car.
I shuddered as I felt his hands slide to my waist, squeezing me with just enough pressure to let me know the full scope of his strength. At any moment his fingers could move to the front of my shorts. He could pull the little string, and slide them straight down past my hips…
And I would let him.
Hell, I would help him.
“Karissa…”
I was fully in his lap now, my ass grinding against the bulge I could feel growing beneath me. It moved with a mind of its own, completely independent of my swirling, sliding tongue, which was enjoying its own exploration of Camden’s sweet, sweet mouth.
“Kariss—”
I cut him off by biting his lip, gently but playfully. I took his hands in mine and slid them upward over my shirt. I didn’t stop until I’d settled his two big palms over my full, bra-less breasts.
He moaned again, squeezing me possessively. I gasped as his palms slid against my areolae, his fingers closing over my already-stiff nipples through the fabric of my T-shirt.
“We… We can’t…”
I grabbed his hands again, just before he pulled them away. Grinding even harder into his lap, I pushed them back to their original positions.
“We can,” I murmured softly. Kissing my way along his neck, I pressed my lips right up against his quivering ear. “And we are.”
Camden sighed as I traced his earlobe with the tip of my tongue, then clacked my teeth together and growled softly. I pulled back a bit, so I could look at his handsome, stubbled face. His eyes were glassy and far away. Glazed with the same levels of intensity and lust that mine were.
“Take me to your room,” I whispered, kissing him again. “Or take me to my room, if you’d like that better.”
He didn’t answer, didn’t respond. But there was an unyielding passion in his eyes. Longing beyond longing.
“You can take me right here on the couch if you want to,” I giggled playfully. “There might be a little explaining to do tomorrow, if someone happens to get up for a midnight snack, but—”
His hands dropped again, back to my waist. Lifting me gently but firmly, Camden broke his lips from mine and slid away.
“I— I’m sorry, Karissa.”
It was all he said. The only words that left his perfectly plump lips, as he stood up and dropped the blanket back into my lap.
My eyes followed him all the way out of the room, my brain spinning through a dozen different scenarios in a futile effort to figure out what the hell just happened.
Seven
KARISSA
The movie played out for another few minutes before I left the living room. It was too creepy to watch alone. Besides, I wasn’t in the mood anymore. Making my way back to my bedroom, I was still confused.
Was it something I did?
No, I didn’t think so. Everything I’d done had been wholly reciprocated. And looking back, it had actually been Camden that made the first move.
This turned my confusion in the direction of anger. Hell, he’d started the whole thing. Just because I was willing to finis
h it and he wasn’t, didn’t mean that—
“Hey, beautiful.”
The words stopped me in the hallway, mid-step. Slowly I turned around… and found Bryce standing in the doorway to his room.
“You still up for this?”
He was leaning against the inside of the top molding, his two big arms perched somewhere overhead. It made every muscle of his chest and shoulders stand out. But it also pulled the hem of his shirt up… revealing the bottom two rows of his deliciously-shredded abs.
Holy fuck.
And from the smile on his face, he knew it, too.
“Ummm…”
I fumbled for the phone I wasn’t carrying. It was back on the charger, in my room.
“It’s midnight, right?” he mused. “Or close to it?”
I shrugged and smiled back at him. If he was game, I was.
“Sure.”
Besides, it’s not like I was tired or anything.
“Cool. Lemmie throw some shorts on.”
I hadn’t even noticed he was wearing only a pair of grey flannel boxers. As he turned back into his room, I didn’t know whether to wait or follow.
Follow.
Damn, that definitely wasn’t the voice of reason. Maybe I’d scared it away.
“Here,” Bryce said, handing me something sleek and black. “This one’s yours.”
I turned the cylinder over in my hand, still unsure of what it was. Then I saw the button. I clicked it on.
“Flashlights?”
“Yup,” he said, shimmying into a pair of loose-fitting workout shorts. Silently I lamented seeing his cute ass disappear. “Half this place still isn’t wired for power yet. We’re gonna need em’.”
A minute later we were back in the hallway, getting ready to explore. Bryce was eager and anxious. I couldn’t help but grin back at him, his smile was that infectious.
“You ready?”
He held his hand out, and I took it readily. His touch was warm and welcome. As our fingers intertwined, I was reminded sharply of my time beneath the blanket with Camden.
Camden…
I hadn’t liked the look in his eye, right before he left. It was more than awkwardness, more than guilt. It was almost… a sort of pain.
“Hey, do you think Camden’s alright?”
I asked the question casually, hoping Bryce wouldn’t read too much into it. He let out a short laugh.
“Why, did that asshole do something to you?”
“No, no,” I said quickly. “Nothing like that.”
“Walk around without a towel or something? He’s been known to do that.”
“No,” I chuckled, taking a moment to enjoy that little picture in my mind. “Definitely not.”
“Because I’ll break his ass if he—”
“Relax,” I smiled, trying to make light of it. “It’s just, well, I saw him earlier and he seemed… sad.”
“He’s a little moody sometimes,” Bryce shrugged. “But overall he’s pretty solid. Maybe he just had a bad day or something.”
“Maybe,” I nodded. “Yeah.”
“You know he dipped into the Army for a few years, while Roderick and I set up the company,” Bryce went on. “Infantry. Airborne.”
“Wow.”
“Served two tours in Afghanistan.”
Bryce’s disposition had gone from wanting to break his friend’s ass to his voice being filled with profound respect. We walked slowly, side by side, our flashlights bouncing as we moved down the wide, wood-paneled hallway.
“He okay from it?” I found myself asking.
“I think for the most part he is,” Bryce assured me. “Roderick and I still aren’t exactly sure what he did over there, but whatever it was definitely changed him. He’s still the same happy-go-lucky guy we grew up with, only now he’s got this strange sort of edge to him as well.”
Bryce paused for a moment, maybe searching for the right words. Still, I knew what he meant. Camden was fun, funny, cooler than hell, but there was definitely another layer. A detached sort of dangerousness to him that you only picked up on once you’d been around him a while.
“Anyway,” his eyes lit up again. “Wanna go scare up some ghosts?”
The grand staircase stretched out before us, leading down to the lower chambers. Bryce was already gravitating toward it.
“And what if they scare us?” I mused.
“Then you’ll protect me,” he laughed, pulling me along.
Eight
KARISSA
For the better part of the last year I’d worked on this mansion. Collating and procuring crews. Facilitating the demolition of what needed to go, and the construction of what would take its place. Everything in between was restoration, from the Italian marble floors to the rare woods and mosaics. From the French-style archways and flying buttresses to the panes of colorful lead glass that made up the arcade walkways. All of it — right down to the tree-shaded footpaths that wandered the gardens — was within the scope of my responsibility, alone.
But I’d never seen the place like this.
Bryce pulled me hurriedly but excitedly through the shadows of the ancient manor, like it were some great museum about to close. It was like he wanted to see everything. Show me every dark nook and dust-filled crannie, and tell me exactly what he knew about each of them.
Mostly though, I was more interested in him.
As breathtaking as the manor once might’ve been, Bryce was a thousand times more beautiful. He was lean and athletic, but still broad and strong. He had the chiseled jawline of a handsome Greek statue, and the sharp, angular features that always defined a man as undeniably handsome.
And his body…
My God, his body!
Unlike the ancient manorhouse, Bryce was still in his prime. His two ripped arms dangled from granite shoulders, and his back tapered down in a ‘V’ to his waist.
“This was the music room,” he told me, letting go of my hand so he could gesture grandly. “Guests from all over used to gather in this room and make beautiful music here.”
I couldn’t help but giggle. “Really?”
“Yes,” he breathed, missing the joke. “The gilt coffered ceiling is lined with silver and gold, and the fireplace is Calacatta marble.”
Right now the marble was filthy, and the ceiling was soot-covered from a partial fire that took place in the nineteen thirties. I knew all this because he’d told me about it three rooms ago.
“There was a piano here,” he told me. “And over there, a harpsichord.”
“Sounds lovely.”
“We found the frames of some furnishings when we first took the place over,” he went on, “but they were too far gone. Too worm-eaten and decrepit to try fixing up.”
“Speaking of that…” I said, tracking the beam of my flashlight around in a circle. “You still haven’t told me why you’re fixing this place up.”
“You mean why you’re fixing this place up.”
“Yeah. That.”
Bryce shrugged his well-tanned shoulders. “This is our retirement,” he said simply. “The plan is to create a beautiful venue. We’ll host events. Rent out the rooms. Turn this place into a money-making machine, and sell off the other business so we can focus on this one.”
“I know all that,” I said with a smirk. “I mean, what made you guys throw in and buy this crazy place to begin with?”
He didn’t answer, and I found that curious. I’d asked the same question of Roderick and Camden over the course of my employment. Both times, I’d received a similar response.
“Hey… you still with me?” I joked. “Or did the ghosts get you?”
He was looking up at a painting of a beautiful blonde-haired woman. Unlike the other paintings in the room this one was clean and almost fresh. Untouched by soot.
“She’s pretty, huh?” I asked.
The woman was dressed in the period clothing of the people who built and lived in this place. But the way she looked, the way she carried
herself — as strange as it was, it made her look almost… modern.
“Who do you think she is?” I went on. “Did she live here?”
Bryce coughed into his hand and cleared his throat. “What makes you say that?”
“Well come on,” I said, “we’re surrounded by all these paintings and frescoes, of people whose lives are long since over. You never wonder about them?”
“I guess,” he shrugged. “Sometimes.”
“And what about this one?” I pointed to another. “Three ladies, laughing with each other at some cotillion or ball. What were their lives like? What did they accomplish? You ever look at something like this and think of those things?”
Bryce nodded slowly. “Check out the background,” he said. “It’s this very room.”
I stared some more. “Wow, it is.”
“Everyone’s dancing. Everyone’s having the time of their lives.”
“And now it’s ruined,” I said sadly, scanning around. Scorched. Empty.
The smile slowly returned to Bryce’s handsome face. “Not for long,” he winked and extended his hand.
I padded across the unfinished room, still feeling silly in my slippers. Bryce looked down at them and laughed for the third time.
“Fuck you,” I pointed downward. “You’re wearing workboots.”
“So?”
“So they look even more obtrusive.”
He snickered. “Obtrusive? I’d call it sexy.”
“You look like a stripper,” I declared. “Shorts and workboots. No socks, even.”
“Still sexy,” he said smugly.
A silence descended, yet it was anything but awkward. It blanketed us in the eerie darkness. Drove us that much closer together, as we simultaneously stepped into each other.
“You got something against strippers?” he asked, his voice going lower.
“Not at all.”
We were close now, almost as close as we were in the gym doorway. Or the library doorway, depending on how you looked at it.
“Because I used to do that for a while,” admitted Bryce. “Back when we were first getting started with the company. To make some extra money.”