by Fleur Smith
By the time Becca moved to leave the comfort of the bathtub, the water was beyond cool and was quickly sliding toward cold. All of the whorls of steam had long since dissipated and her skin had begun to pucker and pimple in the night air in a way that made the coiling beast in the pit of Evan’s stomach squirm again. When she finally did pull herself from the confines of the deep tub, Evan saw that gracefulness definitely wasn’t one of her strong points. In fact, a hippo-like groan issued from her as she practically dragged herself from the porcelain shell. To his surprise, Evan found the sound, and the sight, rather endearing.
Once she was free of the water, he blinked at the sight of her. The remnants of the bubbles and moisture glistened on her skin. With the scent of rose from the bath lingering in the air, Evan figured that the aroma would have clung to her body too.
He was struck with a sudden and desperate desire to bury his nose in her hair, right at the spot where her shoulder swooped up to meet her neck and to press himself against her skin. He imagined wrapping his arms around her waist and he could almost feel the water from her skin on his fingertips. Without thinking through what he was doing, he raised his hand to his face and brushed his fingers across his lips before suppressing the needful moan that rose in his throat. The coiling sensation started anew as it twisted around anxiously deep inside him.
Becca patted herself dry and as he watched the action, a modicum of guilt ate away at Evan for the direction of his thoughts. For the first time in a long time, he almost felt bad for intruding on her privacy. He turned his back to let her finish drying and dressing in peace. While he waited, he walked into the hallway and stopped there until he heard her draw back her sheets and climb into bed.
Desperate to see what new information he could draw from her, Evan willed her to drift into sleep as fast as possible. He paced between the bathroom and the hall as he did, trying to ignore all the thoughts that pressed on him and the twisty-achy feeling in his gut. He tried to focus solely on her breathing now and not on recollections of the events of the night. He didn’t want to recall the way the bathroom light had caressed her skin and made the soft caramel tones glow. Or how the remnants of the bubbles had clung to her as though they were unwilling to relinquish their hold on her. Of how he’d be just as unwilling if given half a chance. Those thoughts were all strange, and dangerous to entertain, and he wondered whether they were only there because of her similarity to his Rose.
Eventually Becca’s breathing evened out and she started to snore lightly, and Evan figured it was probably safe to approach her. Nearing the bed, where she was fast asleep on her side, he was struck for a moment by how beautiful she was.
In sleep, the resemblance to Rose was more pronounced. The one he’d loved wasn’t classically pretty—she wasn’t a Grace Kelly look-alike with petite, royal features or a copy-cat Bridgette Bardot model-type—instead, she’d been attractive in her own unique way. Except it wasn’t completely unique because Becca had seemingly borrowed heavily from her outward appearance as well as sharing her soul.
Even closed, Becca’s eyes were slightly larger than most people’s, lending her the appearance of a real-life Disney princess. He envisioned the green irises beneath her eyelids and his breathing sped slightly. Her nose was a little wider and flatter than was perhaps the currently accepted standard for beauty, but it balanced the rest of her features perfectly.
Unsure whether the real reason for his move was to perform his task or just because he needed so badly to touch her at least once, Evan reached for her blanket-encased shoulders and gently coaxed her onto her back. When her hair fell across her face in a bundle of curls, he brushed them gently back—his fingertips barely grazing her skin. Then he placed his hands tenderly around the back of her neck, touching his fingers together at the base of her spine. The position left him leaning across her body, his lips inches from hers. He tried not to focus on the fact that her hair felt like silk beneath his fingertips, or that her lips looked slick and delicious—the dark pink bright against her olive skin, as though she’d applied lipstick in the moments before she’d slid into bed. He tried extra hard not to focus on the fact that he was sharing her air.
Instead, he tried to concentrate on her thoughts. The innermost longings of his assignments were almost always revealed in the depths of their dreams and the fastest connection was via a bundle of nerves close to the skin on either side of the spinal column. The mental dreamscape was usually ripe for plucking information that the waking mind would never freely offer.
Closing his eyes so that he could gather the information he needed, pictures began to form. The visions that flooded his mind were innocent enough at first. Becca was out at a nightclub and met the eyes of man across the bar. Even as Evan tried to concentrate on the appearance of the man, the club dissolved. When the dream focused again, Becca was walking hand-in-hand with someone through a park.
In Evan’s loose hold, Becca’s back arched as her previously innocent dreams twisted once more, shaping to relive exploits with past boyfriends intermixed with unfulfilled fantasies. Flashes of intimate connections rushed through her mind: a warm embrace with sturdy arms holding her tightly; a velvet tongue slipping across her skin; lips pressed against lips, body against body; the feeling of being filled and stretched. In her dreams, a flush of warmth ran throughout her body as her cheeks pinked. Without looking, Evan could tell her body was duplicating the results in real life. He heard her fingernails scratching against the crisp sheets as the sensations racing through her as a result of her dream became too much to bear without actions taking over.
Evan’s eyes shot open as a near silent moan fell from her full lips as her body writhed at the stimuli her dreams offered. Her mouth pursed and her hips bucked. Evan’s lips were so close to hers, he could feel her breath brushing across his skin and thought of how easy it would be to claim a kiss. A moan was in his own throat as he struggled against an odd surge of need that raced through his body and caused the thing in his stomach to writhe once more.
When he moved closer, Becca shifted again and the blanket fell away, showing an expanse of skin far too revealing for Becca to possibly be clothed. The thought that she was quite probably naked beneath the blanket forced Evan’s moan from his lips, pushed forward by a rush of desire that coursed through him stronger than anything he’d felt before.
With a shaky hand, he trailed his fingers from the back of her neck to brush across her cheek. Then he cupped his hand around her face and shifted closer. His lips ghosted across hers. It was the softest touch but enough to change . . . everything.
At the small brush of their lips, and with his continued view into her ever more erotic dreams, Evan’s blood rushed south and caused a reaction so startling to him that he instantly released his hold on Becca and leapt away from her sleeping form.
He panted as he tried to calm his racing heart and figure out why his body had that response to the stimulus.
It wasn’t the first time his investigations had forced an assignment’s dream to turn explicit, there was a very fine line between love and lust after all. However, it was the first time one of those dreams had caused such a visceral reaction in him. The longing he’d felt the second his lips brushed over hers wasn’t an echo of her desire, it was all his own.
In that instant, every part of his body—every part, even those that had not worked since his return to Earth—had immediately stood at attention. Even from the other side of the room, his heart still raced with the thought of her honey skin wrapped in nothing but the crisp, white sheets and of her head tilted back against the pillow as the firing of synapses in her brain set off a chain reaction that pleasured her body.
It was only as his heart rate slowed, and other things returned to their normal size and position, that he realized he hadn’t paid any attention to the man in the image, which was usually the way he learned of his assignment’s “type.” He’d been far too captivated by the precise shade of pink which flushed across her cheek as
her body raced toward pleasure, and the curl of her black hair as it fanned out on the pillows behind her.
It’s only that she reminds you so much of Rose, he argued with himself even though he knew he was lying. It didn’t matter how much she reminded him of his past life, that particular reaction was brand new for his cupid’s body.
In the bed, Becca tipped her head back and released another sensual moan that made his fingers twitch with need. He was struck with a sudden, urgent need to touch her again, to be the one to draw those moans from her. Instead, he remained completely motionless while watching her hands move toward the intimate parts of herself as her dreams obviously continued to provide her certain stimulation. Fighting against his desire, Evan watched as she pleasured herself underneath the blankets.
For a fraction of an instant, he wished he could strip away the bedding and watch her actions with an unimpeded view. He took a step toward her, even though he wasn’t sure what he planned to do. Then his mind caught up with his actions and he stomped firmly down on his desire. If he broke his cupid vows, he would earn himself a one way ticket downstairs. Lusting after anyone was a no-no. He wasn’t certain how he knew that, he just did.
Becca cried out as her body shook her awake. She was keyed up and her blood surged through the body as she rode wave after wave of pleasure. She tried to slow her rapid breathing and pounding heart as tremors continued to rock her body—the remnants of the desire that had twisted her dreams and woken her with such ferocity.
She hadn’t experienced an orgasm so intense in a long time, in more than a long time. She’d certainly never woken herself up with one rippling through her body. Sure, she’d had her dreams turn to fantasies before. She’d pictured various men she found attractive visiting her; and she’d imagined herself doing wild things with them, but that was a whole different experience to the rampant pleasure that raced throughout her limbs.
She turned her head to check the time, but then stilled when she saw her dream had spilled into reality and lingered in the shape of a man standing in one corner of her room. His face was shrouded by night, but his gaze seemed to pierce through the darkness to meet hers. Her sleep addled brain had just caught up to the vision and began the process of starting panic when he disappeared into nothingness in less than the blink of an eye.
As she processed the image again, she realized it was probably just a combination of a trick of light and her sleep addled mind working together to make her feel crazy. She laughed at herself for being silly.
Only as she thought about it, she wondered whether maybe she wasn’t being all that silly. There were too many incidents over the last twenty-four hours that made her certain she had some sort of spooky guest inhabiting her life and her house.
Pushing herself up to get another look around the room, she confirmed it was definitely empty before trying to relax again. A moment later, she decided that whatever the entity was, it obviously didn’t mean her any harm. At least, it hadn’t given her any real reason to fear it yet. She rolled over onto her stomach and went back to sleep, determined to look into it some more in the morning.
Becca’s alarm went off, pulling her from her sleep. With some reluctance, she dragged herself out of bed just like she’d planned when she’d set the clock. Instead of heading down into her darkroom though, she opened up the antique roll top desk that sat opposite her bed and booted up the computer hidden within. As it ran through the start-up, she grabbed the rolling office chair that was hidden in the corner of her wardrobe and set herself up for a bit of research. She typed “ghosts” into the search bar and spent the next hour looking over the websites that came up.
“Oh my god.” She read through some of the pages and even watched a video or two. “There are some real nut-bags on the internet,” she said before laughing. “Says the woman speaking to herself.”
Even as she said the words and laughed, she could have sworn she heard an answering chuckle issue from the empty space beside her. She had to check, had to know for certain.
Getting as ready to deal with a possible supernatural invader as she could be, she pushed off the wall with her feet. The action sent her rolling backward in her chair, gliding over the floorboards toward the sound. She reached the bed without colliding with anything along the way.
Disappointed, she dragged herself back to her desk and went back to her research. It didn’t turn anything up, except instructions for a sage cleansing ceremony which was apparently designed to drive away both nasty spirits and negativity. Becca wasn’t sure she wanted to risk carrying a smoking fire hazard from room to room though—especially considering her apparent propensity to trip over thin air lately. She muttered to herself, extolling the risks of that little adventure.
When another small laugh issued in the space behind her, she did the only thing she could think of in the situation: she turned her chair around and addressed the empty room. Her arms crossed over her chest and she frowned, certain that whatever—whoever—was there was deliberately playing with her.
“There’s no point hiding any longer, I know you’re there.”
Evan had never been called out before.
Never.
He’d had close calls and near-misses. He’d caused fights between strangers and had people assuming their house was haunted. However, he’d never, ever been directly confronted before. He wasn’t entirely sure how to deal with it.
He stood with his jaw slack as he considered just how badly he’d screwed up. He had no idea why he’d laughed when Becca had been sitting at her computer muttering to herself, except that it had been so cute that he just hadn’t been able to help himself.
Now, staring at her crossed arms and pursed lips, he was struggling between a desire to laugh again and a need to hide—even though he was already cloaked from her sight. He wasn’t sure what the rules were about being revealed as a cupid, but figured it was better not to try anything that might upset those upstairs.
Instead of answering her demand, he backed out of the room as quietly and carefully as he could. Truthfully, he could have left his usual way—popping between her bedroom and whatever other place he thought of—but he couldn’t resist delaying the moment he left for as long as he could so that he could watch her growing frustration at the continued silence in the room. She was almost too cute when she was mad.
After Evan’s near-miss, he was much more careful in his spying techniques. It wasn’t enough to force him from Becca’s side entirely, or to try gathering information about her in ways that didn’t involve being near her. Instead, he just ensured he stood at least three feet from her at all times and tried to evoke the reflexes of a cat as he gravitated around her.
After it had worked for an entire day, Evan couldn’t have been happier. Almost. As much as he hated to admit it, there was a part of him that wanted Becca to bump into him again. That longed for a caress between his fingertips and her skin. His head had been practically racing with daydreams about accidentally tripping her over and then being the one to swoop in and catch her before she fell. In his mind, he could see it play out. He’d sweep her into his arms, dip her deep like in the old movies, then their lips would meet, and . . .
Evan had to stop. He was letting his imagination get the better of him and it forced his libido to run rampant. He didn’t understand it one little bit, especially considering two days earlier he didn’t even have a libido to talk of. Now little Evan seemed to inflate at the drop of a hat—provided it was Becca doing the dropping.
Later that night, when Becca was asleep again, he decided to try his luck with her dreams once more. Taking his position, with his fingertip lightly resting against the back of her neck, he closed his eyes, tapped into her subconscious and prepared for the onslaught. Almost instantly, her innocent dream spun into an illicit fantasy. In her vision, her limbs tangled with another’s, her heart raced, her skin flushed. She sighed with desire and Evan breathed it in.
Risking opening his eyes for a moment, he watched h
er physical reaction to her dream begin once more. Her skin was as colorful as it had been in her dream, flushed with the rush of desire. Her lips parted, allowing her tongue to slip forward to slick the pink skin with moisture.
Instead of snapping away again, Evan pushed himself to watch her dream for as long as he dared. He only moved when her hand shifted from the sheet beside her to caress her own body, just like it had the night before.
He bit his lip, stepped away, and allowed her dream to run its course. With her emotion racing through him—and with his own need amplifying her urges—it took everything he had not to rush off for a private moment in her bathroom. That was if he could even have private moments anymore. The sleeping serpent might have woken after fifty years, but that didn’t mean it was back to full working order again.
It was only after he was able to will his erection away that he realized that, once more, he’d been so focused on Becca and her reactions to her dreams, that he hadn’t paid any attention to the guy she’d imagined performing her fantasies with.
He sighed. This is going to be the hardest assignment ever.
As if he hadn’t already known it.
CHAPTER FIVE
Becca was having one of the weirdest weeks of her life.
It had started with the things that went bump in the night, or well, the day. The unknown thing she’d collided with in the darkroom, the pages of the magazine moving by themselves, the strange noises at the hospital cafeteria, and the laugh while she was on the computer.
After those incidents her week had only become weirder. First there were the dreams, crazy dreams about scenes that she’d never even imagined in her wildest waking fantasy. Then there was the fact that she was starting to lust over men like a dog in heat. It seemed her raging desire was ready and willing to claim any and all members of the opposite sex who dared to enter into her field of view.