“That I’m doing too much damn thinking.”
“Oh yeah?” Jessie felt her insides pool, as they seemed to do a lot around Connor.
“And now, we’re doing too much talking.” He stood, and walked over to Jessie. Standing in front of her, he looked down, holding out his hand. She looked up into his cerulean eyes, seeing a heat there that would melt glaciers. Swallowing past the lump in her throat, she slipped her hand into his.
Connor yanked Jessie out of her chair and hauled her body against him. His mouth came crashing against hers in a searing kiss. Tongues entwining, at war with each other for dominance, their lips were sucking, hungrily. Breaking away from the kiss for air, Jessie’s breathing was ragged.
“Connor.” She gasped.
“Yeah…” His hands hadn’t stopped moving. They were caressing her back, while his mouth moved down her jaw, to the place where her neck and shoulders met.
“What song have you been listening to?” She was curious, if it was the reason for this sudden change of heart.
“S.E.X.” His mouth kept moving across her neck, as he spouted some of the lyrics into her heated skin.
The lyrics themselves made something ache in Jessie’s groin, but hearing them in Connor’s husky, desire-laden voice was what tipped her over the edge. She groaned and leaned into him, slipping her hands under his coat, then his shirt to feel his skin.
Connor started in on his buttons, shrugging off his coat, lips never leaving Jessie’s throat. He looked at her, as he pulled his tee shirt over his head, then their lips were on each other’s again, as he lifted her shirt over her breasts, hands fondling them through her bra.
She pulled away to see what she’d been lusting after for these last few weeks. Connor stood there, looking at her with hooded eyes, his breaths making his chest heave. And what a chest it was. Chiseled, taut muscles, a light dusting of golden hair across the chest, and a sweet little trail traveling down, where his jeans hung low over his tapered hips. Jessie grabbed his hips and pulled him against her, feeling the erection that she had seen straining against his zipper. She tasted his chest, running sloppy kisses across from nipple to nipple, teasing and licking with her tongue.
Connor groaned, as his hand went around to her rear, squeezing it before grasping it and picking her up to set Jessie on top of the table. He yanked her shirt over her head and unclasped her bra, letting her breasts fall loose into his hands. Then he stood back to look at her.
Jessie could see desire in his eyes. They had darkened to an almost navy color, and his lids were heavy. She could hardly breathe with anticipation. She had fantasized about this man for so long, it seemed, and now, here he was. He was a perfect specimen of a man, and the way he looked at her right now made her toes curl. He dropped to his knees and buried his face in her stomach, while his hands went to work on the button and zipper of her jeans. His mouth was making love to her navel, and she had never experienced the sensuality his tongue evoked, working its way around her belly button, before encircling it completely with his warm, wet, mouth. She felt the sensation in her toes.
She gasped, as his mouth went lower. Jessie leaned back on one elbow to give him better access, while one hand stretched to his hair. He pulled her jeans to her ankles, and raised her legs over his head, so her knees were on his shoulders.
Then Connor’s mouth took Jessie’s breath away.
His tongue lightly flicked over her pearl of pleasure, as his hands kneaded the insides of her thighs, spreading them wider. Connor’s tongue flicked faster and harder, then he would stop and suck on the nub, sending Jessie into convulsions. She felt the heat travel through her body, as waves of pleasure rippled through her core. Bringing Jessie to the edge several times, he never led her completely over. Jessie was gasping with bliss, not wanting the sensations to end, yet feeling as if she couldn’t take any more of the torture he was inducing.
“Connor…Please…”
She could see his face rise up over the apex of her thighs, a satisfied smirk on his face. “What, Jessie?”
“Please…Just do it.”
“Do what?” His hands, which had been rubbing her thighs, slowly moved up higher. Finding her folds, one hand slipped a finger inside her, while the other hand teased the spot his tongue had tasted.
Connor’s eyes were on Jessie the entire time.
She couldn’t speak. As soon as his skilled fingers discovered her moistness, they went to work, and Jessie was incoherent.
A sharp pain in Jessie’s arm managed to break through the haze of wantonness. When she looked at her bicep, she shrieked, sitting up rapidly on the table, causing Connor to fall to the floor.
A shard of mirrored glass was embedded in Jessie’s arm, and blood oozed from the wound.
“What the hell?” She asked, mystified, through the sudden pain. She looked at Connor, who jumped up from the floor, and stared at her arm, mouth agape.
“How did that happen?” He demanded, eyes traveling from her arm to her face.
“I don’t know. Help me get it out.” Jessie touched it tentatively, wincing at the surge of pain her touch inflicted.
An unexpected blast of frigid air hit Jessie’s body, as she sat on the table, naked except for the jeans around her ankles. Goosebumps popped up over her body and she shivered.
They both tensed when they heard the laughter.
A woman was laughing near them. It was an eerie sound, echoing in their ears.
Jessie looked at Connor, the look of fear on his face had to mirror her own. “Is there somebody else here?” He shook his head, mouth open with shock.
Jessie jumped off the table, grimacing when she reached down for her pants. “Get this thing out of me. Now.” She said through gritted teeth.
Connor held her arm still with one massive hand encircling the bicep, while his other hand yanked the shard of glass out in one fluid movement. Blood started pouring out of the wound.
“I think you should go to the emergency room. This looks like it needs stitches.”
“Yeah. I think you’re right. Hand me my clothes, please.” Connor reached to the floor and grabbed her clothes, then he leaned over to a nearby table and plucked a linen napkin off it, he held it against her arm. Then he grabbed another napkin and tied it around the wound, creating a makeshift dressing.
“After you dress, I’ll take you.”
Jessie had put her bra on, but couldn’t fasten the clasp. Her arm wasn’t moving. “I’ve got to get out of here. Now.” Connor fastened it for her, and helped her into her shirt.
“Yeah. I get that. Let’s go.”
While they were on the way to the hospital, Connor looked over at Jessie, his hand on her leg.
“Do you know what happened?”
She shook her head. “No. I don’t. Did you hear…laughing?” She really needed some sort of reassurance she wasn’t going crazy. Her mind kept picturing the woman in the mirror from her first night at the restaurant, how angry she looked, and Summer’s warnings.
“Yes…I did. I’ve heard lots of weird things in that house, since I’ve moved here. But nothing’s ever…hurt anybody before.” As she looked at Connor, he visibly shuddered, and tightened his grip on her leg.
“Like what? What weird things?”
He expelled a long breath. “Like floor boards creaking, old music playing, that kind of stuff. And the mirror…”
“The silver one?”
He looked at her. “Yeah. The one you were holding the other night. I keep putting it away, throwing it away, even. I’ve even broken it.” His face paled, and his voice lowered to a whisper. “And it keeps coming back.”
She felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand up. “I saw a woman in it…that night. Standing behind me. I thought it was my imagination, Summer had been saying stuff about a woman, and I thought I had let her get to me.”
His hand clenched her leg painfully at her declaration, but he relaxed it quickly. He was looking at her intently. “What did Summer
say?”
“She kept saying she saw a woman standing in the corner by the stairs, and she was angry at me. Summer…she’s sensitive to stuff like that. Or at least she says she is…I’ve never put much stock in it. But that’s why she left early that night. She was spooked.”
“I’ve never seen anyone in the house.” Connor said quietly. “One morning, the windows in my bedroom had fogged up, though. Just my room, none of the others, and something had written on one of the windows.”
“What did they write?”
“Mine.”
“This is so weird.”
“Yeah. I believe I’ll be staying with Luke in the carriage house for a while, until I can figure all this out.”
At the ER, Jessie told the nurses, she had accidentally stabbed her arm with a piece of broken glass, which was as close to the truth as she was willing to get. They looked at her bruised face with raised eyebrows, then assessed Connor, who shrugged. When they saw in her chart that this was the second night in a row she had visited, the nurses stifled more questions. Eight stitches later, they were on their way back to Connor’s, where Jessie’s truck was. They were quiet on the ride there, each lost in their own thoughts.
After pulling into the parking lot, Connor looked at Jessie, resting his hand on the back of her neck. “Look, tomorrow I need to talk to Luke about…all this. And some other stuff. I’m going to talk to him about doing some stuff to your place, if that’s okay.”
“Sure. Call me sometime tomorrow. Okay?”
He pulled her closer and kissed her. “I really want to finish what we started.” His voice was husky, and it sent a warm pool of melted tummy straight to her toes.
“Me too.” She kissed him again, trying to convey her need for him, before releasing him and getting out of the truck.
Chapter Ten
Connor had roughly shoved Luke’s unconscious body over on the foldout couch the night before and slept with him in the carriage house. There was no way he was going to be sleeping in the big house, not with that woman there. When he woke up the next morning, Luke was sitting on the coffee table, coffee in hand, staring at him with a bemused expression.
“What’s up bro? Did you get cold last night? Need a snuggle buddy?” The boyish grin on Luke’s face did nothing to dispel the horror of the night before.
Connor rubbed his face as he sat up on the lumpy mattress. “Naw, man. I’ll tell you, but I’m pretty sure you won’t believe it. Later. I need you to help me move the mattress out of the big house. I’m not sleeping there anymore.”
“Whatever you say, man.”
They swiftly moved the mattress downstairs and out to the loft of the carriage house. It took up most of the space, but that was okay with Connor.
Since it was Monday, the restaurant was closed, so he had all day to talk to Luke, who seemed restless. He was lazing on the couch with a sketchpad, tapping his pencil. Connor looked over his shoulder, none too discreetly, and noticed Luke had been writing Kathy’s name in giant block letters across the page, shading them beautifully.
“What’s up with you and Kathy?”
Luke sighed dramatically, running his hands through his hair. “I don’t know, man. She seems interested, but I’m just not totally sure. We’re such good friends, and I’m afraid if I make a move, I’ll screw it up.” He held up a hand to Connor’s surprised expression. “I know, dude. Don’t say it. I sound like a pussy.”
Conner laughed, and it felt good, after the events of last night. “Yeah, you do.”
“We have a date tonight. I guess since you’ll be staying here, I need to go back to her place, if anything happens.”
“Yes, please.” Connor agreed. “What’s left to do on this house?”
“Nothing. I’m finished. It’s wired, plumbed, insulated, and painted. You just need to furnish it. That’s part of why I’m so nervous about Kathy. I’m leaving.”
“Not if you’ll do me a favor.
“What?”
Connor told his brother about Jessie’s open house for the dairy, and glossed over some of the things, which needed to be done to her house.
“I can’t pay you, and I don’t think she could either. I’ll buy you beer, and feed you. But I won’t be able to pay you until later. But you could stay until the event, that would give you more time to decide what to do with Kathy.”
“Yeah, it would. Thanks, bro.” His attention shifted. “What happened at the big house? Why are you staying out here all of a sudden?”
Connor shifted uneasily. “It’s haunted, and it’s gotten too weird.” He said simply. Luke eyed his brother warily. “I told you you wouldn’t believe it, but there’s been stuff going on in there, and last night was the last straw. There’s a woman haunting the place, and I need to figure out what to do about her before she starts messing with customers.”
“Messing with them? Ghosts don’t mess with people, man. They levitate shit, and mess with lights.”
“This one stabbed Jessie in the arm last night.” Connor said quietly, hearing how ridiculous the words sounded in his own ears.
“Okay, man. Start at the beginning.”
So he did. Connor told his brother about the creepy music, the floor boards creeking, the foggy windows with the word ‘mine’ written in them, the refrigerators, and the mirror. He told Luke about Jessie seeing the woman in the mirror, and Summer seeing the woman by the stairs. He ended with the mirror shard in Jessie’s arm, and the sound of the laughter.”
Luke was pensive throughout the entire story. “I’d think you were messing with me, except I’ve seen half that stuff myself. I just thought it was creepy though, nothing to worry about. It’s an old house, with a lot of history.” He slapped himself in the forehead with the palm of his hand, getting up to go to the storage closet and rummage around. “That reminds me. I found something in the walls when I was putting in the insulation. Up in the loft, there was a plank in the wall that was unattached. That’s how I got access to the interior walls. Somebody had left a book in there. I didn’t look at it much, just determined it was some sort of diary or something. But I put it in this closet for you to look at later. Here it is.” He emerged from the closet with a linen bound book in his hands. He tossed it to Connor.
Connor turned it over in his hands, examining the plain, beige cover. It may have been white at some point, but had yellowed with age. Opening the book, he fingered the pages, noting the faded, yet still legible writing.
“It is a diary. From 1923-1926. That’s what’s written on the front. I wonder whose it is?”
“Yeah, me too. It probably belonged to someone from the big house, though I can’t imagine why it’s hidden out here. This was a pretty much an old barn back then.”
Connor was quiet, as he read the first few pages, of a young woman’s mundane life in Serendipity. Looking up at his brother, he asked, “Would you do some research on this house? You know how to look stuff up at the title office, you could find out who used to own this place, then go to the library and see if they have anything.”
“Yeah, sure. I’m not doing anything else, except fixing up your girlfriend’s house for free.”
At Connor’s blush, the younger brother could tell he’d struck a nerve. “Tell me about you guys. What exactly is going on? Has she broken through your resolve?”
Luke was the only person who knew all there was to know about Brandy and her evil machinations. Connor had told him everything, since Luke had taken it upon himself to set his big brother up with all sorts of women after the divorce. As soon as Connor saw what Brandy was doing with his relationships, he asked Luke to stop, explaining why.
“Yeah, I guess. She’s different, you know? I really like her. I tried not to, but…” He shrugged. “I’ve decided maybe enough time and distance have lapsed for Brandy to not mess with me now. I don’t know, but I’m giving it a shot.”
“Well, good for you. It’s been too long since you’ve had a little lovin’ in your life.” He clapped Conno
r on the shoulder and went into the kitchenette. Connor settled himself on the couch, and opened the diary to the first page.
I’m starting this diary to tell of things, which would send me straight to Hell if I spoke of them aloud. People would think me evil, even though I have no control over these events of my life.
Father is doing it again. When he thinks I’ve gone to sleep, he comes to watch me. Always watching. It’s a sin to not honor thy father, but he terrifies me. After the watching, he goes back to their room, and makes Mother cry. I cannot honor him, when he does that. And he does it every night, now. I have to tell of it, but there is no one to tell. So I’m writing it here, and hoping this will ease my guilty soul. Because I know somehow, it is my fault.
The malice resonating from his being as he watches me sleep, terrifies me. After a very long time of watching, he goes back to his bedroom and makes Mother scream in horrific pain. I can’t imagine what he’s doing to her, but I’m glad it’s not me. I know it is sinful, to be grateful for someone else’s pain. I’m just so thankful that those screams aren’t mine.
I sense it’s my fault though, that he goes and hurts Mother. Is there something I’m doing or not, that gives him the thoughts to go and make her scream like that?
Connor read with growing curiosity. Was this the same woman who was antagonizing him? Were there clues in this diary to help him get rid of her presence in his house? He kept reading.
If I could only find a suitable husband, I could leave this oppressive home, and start my own family. But Father won’t allow suitors to visit, and he rarely lets me go anywhere without him. I am twenty-three-years old, and he does not seem to wish me married. He controls my daily activities, allowing me away from the house only for church functions without a chaperone. There are no eligible men at church, anymore. I yearn for someone to rescue me from this oppressive existence, but I cannot seem to find anyone with the interest necessary to take me away from him.
Connor found himself feeling sorry for the woman. According to the pages he’d read, she lived a sheltered life at home with her parents. Granted, times were different, but he seemed to have the impression that the twenties was an era of freedom for women. The suffrage movement, flappers, prohibition, speak-easies all came to mind when he thought of the period. This woman seemed to be stuck in the Victorian era of male domination, and repression.
What to Read After FSOG: The Gemstone Collection (WTRAFSOG Book 9) Page 104