by S. E. Harmon
I sighed. Leave it to me to be haunted by the Buddha ghost. “I know.”
“Are you guys going to sleep together again?”
“Ethan.”
“Can I watch?”
“Get lost, Casper.”
“Open the damn door before I take it off the hinges.” Danny sounded resolved. Deliberate.
And he would too. I knew that he wouldn’t hesitate to pull out a power drill. I sighed. “It’s your house.” I popped the lock and opened the door. “No need to get all this-is-Sparta on me.”
Danny glowered at me. “I’m not hulking out. I just wanted to make sure you’re okay.”
“I’m okay.” All things considered.
He stepped forward, which brought us closer together. Those long fingers on my chin were gentle as he turned my face. “That black eye is getting worse, but the gash seems to be healing. Did you put anything on it?”
“Not really.” I didn’t know why it was getting difficult to breathe, only that it was. I tried to stare at the wall and not Danny as he continued to probe. “It looks worse than it is.”
“I certainly hope so. Because it looks awful.”
“Thanks,” I said dryly. “Can’t hear that enough.”
He finally dropped his fingers from my chin, and air rushed through my lungs like bellows. I was almost light-headed with it. After a moment I realized Danny was rifling through the drawer under the sink. “What are you looking for?”
I didn’t expect an answer, and I didn’t get one. Thoroughly ignored I sulked next to the counter and bit the inside of my lip. When Danny finally rose with two clips and a half-used bottle of Neosporin, he held up his free hand. “It’ll go a lot faster if you just get up on the counter.”
I was never too tired to fight. But I just might have been too tired to win. I hoisted myself up on the countertop without further comment. Danny stepped in between my legs, crowding my space, and slapped the tube of medicated cream in my palm. “Hold this.”
I waited patiently while he used the clips to part my hair away from the abrasion. “Why do you have barrettes?”
“They’re not barrettes,” he growled. “They’re clips.”
“I haven’t forgotten about your man-bun years, Irish.”
Danny’s mouth quirked. “I’m still deciding whether I should put this Band-Aid on the injury or right across your smart mouth.”
I was strangely soothed as he worked and spread a thin line of cream around my abrasions. His touch was more delicate than you’d expect from such rough fingers. I watched the expressions on his face, so close to mine, but as usual, he was hard to read. Still achingly beautiful, though. I don’t know whether it was because of his actual features or because he was just… Danny.
He capped the tube, tossed it back in the drawer, and applied a small butterfly Band-Aid near my temple. And when those strong fingers ran out of reasons to touch me legitimately, they trailed down my jaw. I hated to ruin whatever moment we were unexpectedly having, but Ethan was absolutely right. No more hiding from the truth.
“Are we going to talk about this? Or just sweep it under the rug.”
His hands stilled. Fell away. I ached at the loss. “Talk about what?”
“You know, for the longest time, I thought I was going absolutely insane. But I know now that I’m not.”
“You expect me to believe….” Danny shook his head. “You’re just stressed. Not thinking properly. You’re so attached to your cases that you’re blurring reality and fantasy—”
I made a frustrated noise. “I don’t need you to make excuses for me.”
“Well someone needs to.”
“You know what, Danny? Go fuck yourself. I should’ve known you couldn’t handle the truth.” I bit my lip. Fuck, why was I having a Jack Nicholson moment when I was trying to be serious?
“Don’t you Jack Nicholson me,” he scowled. “Since you’re so fucking psychic, then where the hell is Amy?”
It didn’t seem like the right time to correct him and tell him I was not, in fact, psychic. I saw ghosts. That seemed like a significant difference. I wanted to be put in the correct wing of the mental hospital.
Finally I just muttered, “It doesn’t work like that.”
“Then how the hell does it work?”
“I… I don’t know how to answer that.”
“So let me get this straight. You see ghosts, you talk to ghosts, but you don’t know how it works or why you can see them. Do I about have the whole of it?”
Yep. Just about. I bit my lip. “Well, I didn’t say it was pretty. She is dead. I saw her with my own eyes. Spoke to her.”
“God.” His eyes closed briefly. “I really don’t want to talk about this.”
“Yeah, well. It’s no day at the park for me.”
“Is this why you left? Why you take the pills?”
“I took the pills because I thought they weren’t real. It helped keep me calm. Helped keep them at bay. But yeah. It is why I left.”
Danny looked like someone had punched him in the face. With signet rings on all fingers. “I kind of miss the time when I thought you were just a selfish, commitment-phobic asshole.”
“Yeah. So do I.”
Danny’s soft inhale calmed me. “I’m just… trying to wrap my mind around this. What are you?”
“That’s an interesting question,” I hedged.
“It’s really not.”
“I just… see ghosts. Talk to them. My sister thinks I’m supposed to be helping them.” I paused thoughtfully. “She thinks if I start talking to them on a regular basis, they won’t just pop up all the time.”
“There are ghosts in my house?” His voice rose at the end.
“Are you going to freak out now?”
“I do not freak.” After a minute he blew out a breath. “Although I’ll admit this is the closest I’ve ever come before. I can’t believe I’m having this conversation. With you, someone who is possibly the smartest person I know. And no one is high, which would really explain everything.”
“I don’t know what I am.” I searched for the right words to make it better. “But Ethan… one of the ghosts I talk to, seems to think I’m a medium. I don’t know all the terminology for it. I’ve tried talking to my sister, but she only gave me a long, drawn-out explanation about the Earth and energy, and trust me, you don’t want a repeat of that. For once I had to just let it be what it was, Danny. And it would be nice if you could support me in this.”
He wouldn’t meet my eyes. “Yeah? And why me?”
I looked down at my hands. For all of my determination not to go down that road again, I realized that sometimes in matters of the heart, you didn’t really have much of a choice. I was in love with Danny again. Maybe I’d never stopped.
Why me, indeed? I shrugged helplessly. “It’s always been you, hasn’t it?”
His head snapped up, and suddenly I was skewered by those big blue eyes. Unfathomable eyes. Accompanied by a lot of silence. “What do you want me to say?”
“Whatever you want to say. Ideally? I want you to believe me.”
“I believe that you believe it,” he finally said.
I glared at him. “Don’t patronize me. If you don’t believe me, then just say so.”
“Fine.” Danny threw up his hands. “You’re magic. You see things no one else can. You’re David fucking Copperfield. How’s that?”
That was just about all I could take. I’d taken a chance, taken a risk. Bared my fucking soul and got nothing but grief. I started to push myself off the counter, and suddenly Danny moved between my legs and boxed me in. I reached up to push him away, and he grabbed my hands. I struggled with him, but it was useless. He was a lot stronger than me and held me immobile with ease. I finally gave up with a low growl. Unless I wanted to treat him like an assailant and seriously attack him, I wasn’t going anywhere until he wanted me to.
“Don’t. Just… don’t.” He nuzzled my neck softly and held my hands captive betwe
en us. “I’m sorry. Don’t go. Okay?”
My breathing was harsh and angry in my ears. I was pathetic. So easy. I should be trying to break his goddamned nose, not letting him calm me like a spooked horse. But I wanted him to want me. Wanted him to want me to stay.
He buried his face in the crook of my neck, right where it was the most sensitive, and breathed in. He sucked on a patch of skin there, pulled it in his mouth and worried it with his teeth, and I had to gasp a little. As if that were the green light he was waiting for, his hand suddenly tangled in my hair and pulled my mouth to his. I struggled because it pleased me to be contrary, but I couldn’t wait to kiss him. Taste him. His mouth landed on mine with absolutely no coordination or finesse, and we spent a few moments just breathing in the same air before it turned into a real kiss.
His mouth moved over mine aggressively, almost angrily, and that was fine by me. More than fine. If he tried to do flowers-and-roses romance right then, I would’ve seriously kicked his ass. As it was, I was pretty sure my lips were going to be swollen, the way he was abusing them. He sucked my bottom lip into his mouth and tugged on it with his teeth, wordlessly asking me to open more, and I did with no hesitation. He rewarded me by possessively plunging his tongue into my mouth.
I moaned as arousal shot clear through my body, down to my bare feet. I couldn’t believe I’d forgotten just how good it felt to have Danny’s hands all over my body. It was good. It was so fucking good I could barely remember what the hell we’d been arguing about.
Oh, that’s right. He thought I was a stone-cold, raving mad lunatic.
My hands landed on his forearms—fuck that was a lot of muscle—and instead of gripping, I pushed. Not nearly as hard as I could have. Not hard enough to dislodge, as he tangled his hand in my hair again and pulled my lips back to his.
“’S enough,” I managed to mutter as he devoured my mouth again.
It was not enough. Was never going to be enough.
He sucked on my tongue—slow, slick heat—and my resounding groan felt like surrender—complete surrender that blossomed into me opening my mouth wider to give him better access as I gripped his arms like they could anchor me to reality.
The kiss rapidly turned into something hungrier. More elemental. Urgent even, as his hand dropped to my dick. Fuck. I didn’t need a Magic 8 Ball to see where we were heading. He would jerk me and blow me, then turn me around, bend me over the counter, and eat me out until I didn’t know my own name. And when I was finally so far gone that I’d let him do anything, he’d fuck me hard, just like I liked.
His voice was rough and a little hoarse as he fumbled with his belt buckle. “Turn around.”
That voice hit me hard and made my knees weak like jelly. “No,” I managed.
He growled as he worked his zipper down. And sweet Jesus, there was his dick, tall and proud and leaking already as he fisted himself once. Twice. “You don’t want me to fuck you?”
“No,” I said. “So you should probably put that thing away.” Put it away, jam it in my mouth? What’s the difference? I was proud. My voice only wobbled a little.
“Liar,” he whispered. “I bet your hole is already clenching right now, just waiting for my dick.”
I kept my face devoid of emotion even as it did exactly that. Bastard.
“Enough.” As he came forward, I planted my hands on his chest, gave him a good push, and almost sent him into the bathroom door. Considering our size difference, it was a good push, a serious push, and he knew I meant it.
We stared at each other from opposite corners of the bathroom, like boxers waiting for the bell. I could still taste him. My tongue snuck out of my mouth to lick my lips, and his eyes went dark.
I gave him a pointed stare. “I’m going to take my shower. I’ll leave you hot water.”
His jaw looked tight enough to break, and it worked for a moment. “Don’t bother. I need the cold.”
Chapter 21
I THINK we both knew he was going to try and fuck me that night. I think we both knew I wanted him to.
I hadn’t expected him to wait so long. I fell asleep in bed, watching some random infomercial that tried to convince me I couldn’t cut a tomato properly without their gadget. I waited and tried to conjure up enough indignant thoughts to help me tell him no when he came a-callin’. It would probably have helped if I hadn’t found his stash of fine whiskey and helped myself.
He thinks you’re crazy. Is that really someone you want to sleep with? Absolutely not. And yet? We clearly weren’t going to be together in the future. No one could blame me if I had one more for the road. Or two.
I woke when my door opened, and I blinked at the figure silhouetted in the soft light emitted by the TV. God, even in that light, I could tell he was only wearing a clingy pair of briefs. His body still put mine to shame—all toned musculature and broad, football-player shoulders. I slammed my eyes shut. I’d never been any good at faking sleep, but hope sprung eternal.
My straining ears heard his soft footsteps pad toward the bed. And then a pause as he stared at me. A long, suspicious pause. I tried to breathe quietly. I hadn’t yet decided what I was going to say or do. And if I had to fake sleep for a few moments to buy time, then I was gonna do it. He chuckled softly, and the bed dipped suddenly. There was heat at my back as he draped across me from behind and molded his body to mine. “You’ve got to be the worst fake sleeper in history,” he rumbled in my ear.
I had to sigh. Yes, I was. I leaned up on one elbow and turned to tell him off. But before I could utter a word, he leaned in and captured my mouth in a long, drugging kiss—a kiss strongly flavored with dark Tennessee whiskey. I winced when he finally pulled back, but he didn’t seem to mind.
He groaned and tangled his fingers in my hair. “Fuck, I thought that whiskey tasted best in a beveled glass. How wrong I was.”
He took my mouth again, and when he finally let me breathe, I confessed, “I found your stash.”
He pushed me flat on my back so he could see my face better. The light of the TV cast his smile in relief and shadow, like the Cheshire Cat. “Guess I should find a better place to hide things than a popcorn tin.”
That kiss was different. Slower. Softer. Just a brush of lips against lips. “You do realize this isn’t going to make things better,” I managed.
“Don’t want to think about that right now.” In the dark his eyes looked almost black. They were steady on mine. “Just this. Us. Okay?”
I let out a frustrated breath. I guess I wanted that too. But what about the other shit that followed? “I don’t know if I can give you what you want.”
“Right now? I just want you. Want to take that sweet ass. Ride you hard.” He trailed kisses down my jaw. Softly. Tempting. His voice was low and rumbly. He punctuated his words with kisses. “Want you, want you, want you.”
God, I loved it when he was like that. Only in the dark of the bedroom, only when it was just the two of us did he turn from stoic and hard-to-read to needy and wanting. Nothing was off the table, nothing was too sappy or too sweet or too raw to say, and I loved that shit.
I took his searching, heated mouth with my own and bit and licked and sucked on those lips to my heart’s content. When I opened my mouth under the onslaught, he didn’t waste time, but plunged his tongue into my mouth. “Want you back,” I muttered. I pushed at his shoulder until he got the picture and rolled us, reversing our positions so I was on top.
He watched, bemused, as I worked my way down between his spread legs. I didn’t know if I wanted to rim him, blow him, or fuck him senseless. Options, options, options. “Farther,” I commanded and gave his upraised thigh a healthy smack.
“Yessir.” His teeth briefly shone in the dark as he complied and inched his feet farther apart, heels firmly pressed into the mattress. A flush of arousal darkened his skin, all dusky and golden and satiny, and his chest rose and fell visibly. “Anything else?”
I stared up at him, more than a little tipsy. Made it too har
d to think. Dick. It was always a good place to start. I pushed his briefs down, bunched them around his thighs, and watched avidly as his dick swung free. The thick length of it was already glistening, slick with precum. It jerked against his taut belly, and my mouth actually watered with my desire to taste, to have him helpless in my mouth.
His body tensed as I lapped at the fluid pearling the tip, pulled back to watch more form almost immediately, and chased that down the sides with my tongue. I repeated the process again and again, a little drunk with power, until his fingers slid through my hair and gripped. Hard. Trying to guide me.
I licked down the sides to tease. Taking my sweet fucking time. He made a desperate sound and tried to guide my mouth again, but I shook my head and drifted even lower. I got closer to that deep, heady, strong scent of him, buried my face under his balls, and inhaled deeply. “God, you smell so fucking good,” I managed. “You just have no idea.”
“Rain,” he said warningly. “Just remember that payback is a bitch. A bitch with blue fucking balls.”
And because I knew he always meant what he said and had a very long memory, I only took one more teasing lick before I took him down to the root. He had nothing else to say, smart or otherwise. His hips stuttered into movement as he groaned and tried to get even deeper. I let him set the pace for a while and just enjoyed the feel of him as he worked in and out of my mouth. My gag reflex tingled a bit, and I pulled off and let his cock slide from my mouth with a soft pop. Then back in. Off. Back in. It was definitely a sloppy blow job, fueled by liquor, and according to the sounds he made, that was a very, very good thing.
“Turn around,” he ordered a little breathlessly. “Want you at the same time.”
What a coinkydink. Sixty-nine was my favorite number too.
I ditched my boxers, straddled him, and turned so I could continue to suck him at my leisure. And then his hot mouth was sucking on me too, and my eyes briefly crossed. His cock slid from my mouth and I winced as though in pain. I wasn’t, but damn, I’d forgotten how good it could feel.