Ghost Gifts

by Laura Spinella

  “Monogrammed towels work too.”

  “What?”

  “Uh, nothing. A tattoo. That’s permanent.”

  “That’s what I said. It was hardly our first foray into the subject of permanence. Beth had a point. In fact, I think we were kind of reading each other’s minds.”

  “She did mention that about herself, a sixth sense and all.”

  “Beth admitted that part of her decision to go to Europe was to leave me with a wake-up call. Make me think.”

  “You are a careful thinker. It’s a commendable quality.”

  “That may be, but Beth’s position was difficult to argue. Besides, I believe we surpassed the ‘careful thinker’ stage a couple of Christmases ago.”

  “That long?”

  “So before she left, I manned up. I did the sensible thing. Something I should have done a year ago—before she ever left.”

  “Did you?” Aubrey said, hearing a sharp pitch in her voice.

  “I did. And I’m glad I did. It wasn’t a pleasant conversation. But in the end, we agreed. If I was ever going to be more than the longtime boyfriend, it would have happened by now.”

  “Wow. I think that’s won—” Aubrey blinked fast, hoping the dim light masked a wallop of emotion. “‘Never going to’ . . . as in she didn’t buy a return ticket?”

  “As in it was over and we both knew it. Somebody just had to pull the trigger.”

  “Can I ask why? Like you said, you’ve been together a long time.”

  Aubrey expected the logical parts of Levi to field the question: “After careful study, we realized we’re incompatible . . . The timing was inopportune, not advantageous to our careers . . . I couldn’t see myself living with all those fashion magazines . . .”

  “Because I’m not in love with her.”

  “You’re not . . .” His logical nature would always trump hers.

  Levi’s hand hovered over Aubrey’s and with a gentle landing it folded around hers. “That said, do you think we’ve finally gotten around to what we’ve been avoiding since the parking lot at the Exit 43 Diner?”

  “Maybe. But pragmatically speaking, it would be wise to go about this carefully . . . thoughtfully . . .”

  “In theory, I absolutely agree.” The words came out of his mouth, but clearly it wasn’t what he wanted. Instead, Levi kissed her, and Aubrey felt as if two people were melding into one. Moments later, the scene mirrored hot and heavy teenagers parked in a driveway. Things slowed a bit, just long enough for Levi to say, “Logically, pragmaticism is the way to do this. But I’d rather see where faith takes us.”

  It took them into a quiet living room, where one small lamp cast a teasing glow over shadows that barely parted. Together they began down a heated path, a subtle discarding of clothing and caution. They lingered between the sofa and the stairs, Levi’s hands caressing her skin, Aubrey encouraging his touch. Every part of her fluttered with anticipation, but she stayed steady and on task, the unbuttoning of Levi St John proving to be an intriguing mission. At the bottom step, he hesitated, his forehead having to dip slightly to meet hers. “Wait.”

  “Why?” she said, breathlessly.

  “Because while I’m all in here, leap of faith and everything, I’m not that much of an exhibitionist. What about Charley?”

  “She’s with Yvette.”

  “And Yvette is . . . ?” he said, kissing her again.

  “Our carnival seamstress.”

  “Of course she is.” He sighed and kissed her almost simultaneously. “And they’d be . . .”

  “Gone,” Aubrey said, kissing him back.

  “Okay, but later . . .”

  “Gone for the night.”

  “You’re kidding?”

  “Not right now,” she said, her hands running over the crisp cotton of his shirt, the hardness beneath it. “Troupe reunion in Newport. Yvette whipped Charley up a new dress. They were very excited.”

  “Damn,” he said, his hands skimming beneath her blouse. “I hope they have an incredible time.”

  “Nice of you to care.”

  “I told you, I can be social in the right situation.” Levi’s mouth moved deftly over hers, then kissed the long line of her throat.

  “Keep it up, and you’ll convince me of charming by morning.” It all felt so right, so honest, Aubrey found herself indifferent to the living room setting, happy to indulge in the moment right on her sofa. But the gentleman in Levi was having none of that—or so she thought as he insisted she show him the way to her bedroom.

  Once inside, Aubrey slipped from his hold long enough to light candles. She watched as Levi looked around her space, his gaze pausing on the wrought-iron bed. “It’s new to me,” she said. “But is it too antique for you?”

  “Does it, um . . . speak to you?”

  She laughed, standing in the flickering candlelight. “It’s never said a word. That’s why I wanted it. It has no story. It’s just beautiful to look at.”

  “I think we may have different opinions about what deserves to be called beautiful to look at,” he said from the other side of the room. Not so long ago, logically speaking, Aubrey would have thought he meant sleek modern lines, clean edges. Now, his meaning was clear. Aubrey absorbed him from this new perspective, wondering what else she didn’t know about Levi. He was quick to offer something. “The bed, all of this, it’s what I imagined here would look like.”

  “You’ve thought about here?” He didn’t answer, closing the distance instead, finding the zipper to her skirt with a smooth expertise she might not have imagined. The dark skirt obediently slipped to the floor. Aubrey stepped out of it and at the same time she pushed Levi’s dress shirt off him. His undershirt followed, Aubrey admiring Levi’s underlying physique. It complemented the room’s ambient aura, making shirts of any kind seem like a sin. What remained was fast to follow, shoes, socks, trousers, until nothing was left but Aubrey’s fingers, wrapped around the edge of his boxers, his hand cupped around the backside of her satiny, champagne-colored panties. She hid a smile, grateful to have bypassed plain white cotton panties that morning. It was serendipity really. Sex in her bedroom that evening hadn’t seemed like a remote possibility when she’d dressed for the day. He held her close and Aubrey savored the feel of her body against his. She kissed his collarbone as her hands joined the effort, running hard over the broad muscles of his shoulders. He inched back. Her head tipped slightly as she studied the new point of view, watching as Levi removed his glasses and placed them on the nightstand.

  “What?” he said, the faintest hint of inhibition in his voice.

  “I’ve never stopped to think about that when we got to here.”

  “So you’ve thought about here too?”

  Aubrey didn’t answer, too absorbed in Levi’s touch, which moved fluidly across her stomach and in between her legs. Light kisses traveled over the stubble on Levi’s jaw, a private, sensual discovery. His dark gaze flirted with the flicker of candles before clinging willfully to her body. The boxers were the last thing to go as the two of them fell onto the bed, hands touching skin in a way that was destined to become a pattern.

  He kissed her again and his thoughts tumbled forward. “You . . . like this, it’s more incredible than I imagined.”

  “And did you imagine all this after the kiss at the diner?” she said, a little breathless as Levi’s hands made logical yet intuitive progress.

  “Not exactly.”

  “Really . . . Then when?” she said, making half an effort to keep up with conversation.

  “Sometime after the splinter . . . before the night at the restaurant. Maybe the day you wore that clingy dress to the office.”

  “Ah, the one you referred to as ‘different.’”

  “It was the only adjective I could come up with that wouldn’t get me fired.” In between kisses, she smi
led. “Anyway . . . I had this completely inappropriate dream. I think I was fifteen the last time I woke up in that, uh . . . state.”

  “And what happened in the dream?” she said, not opposed to being cast in Levi’s reverie.

  “We were . . . Let’s just say the word salacious is involved. I was actually damn sorry I woke up before it was over.”

  “That’s disappointing. I couldn’t keep your attention.”

  “Hardly . . .”

  “How so?”

  “My conscious thoughts tend to be more dominant than my imagination. The whole damn thing ended up in some crazy, hot . . . Jesus,” he shuddered as her hand wrapped around the aching length of him. “A, um . . .”

  “Fantasy?” Aubrey said, kissing him hard.

  A moment later she was beneath him. “Yeah. A fantasy.” He smiled; the dimple full on.

  “Show me how it goes. . . .”

  “Show you . . .”

  “How it goes.”

  “It, um . . . Not a good idea. It doesn’t include anything that would be construed as charming.”

  “So this was an intense fantasy.”

  “There weren’t any handcuffs or a blindfold—just us. But I’d say intense is a fair description.”

  “Then I want to know.”

  “Are you sure?”

  Aubrey bit down on her lip, the prospect of an unguarded Levi irresistible. “Completely sure.” He didn’t ask again, nor did he hesitate. Her eyes went wide as they turned onto a different sensual path. Levi grasped both her wrists, pinning them up over her head. Apparently, handcuffs were unnecessary. The binding knot of hands sank her wrists deep into a feathery pillow, the dominant act not subject to interpretation. Aubrey was sure—almost sure—that saying stop would take things down a notch. But she surprised herself, more inclined to demand that he keep going. The sense of touch belonged solely to him, which fit—Levi in control. It was all naughtily sublime. His mouth caressed her body as gently as his hands had when they first touched hers, taking out the splinter. He moved past her breasts and Aubrey was teased by the desire for his mouth to linger. It nudged her toward heightened passion and she embraced the commanding hold Levi had over her free will.

  As he reached a physical point, a position where she felt sure he’d have to let go, let her touch him, Aubrey nearly relaxed. But the muscles in her body didn’t take the cue from her brain. Her breath quickened as his lips flirted with a spot just below her breastbone, just above her belly button. It was titillating and wicked, even more so as he loomed back over her. His voice was edgy, his mood cradling enticement. “Do . . . do you want the rest of this, Aubrey? The rest of what I so clearly saw.” Yet he released her wrists, his hands anxiously mapping what his mouth had explored. “It’s your call.” He paused, but then continued. “We can do this in a pragmatic . . . logical way—which, I swear, will be thoroughly satisfying, or . . .”

  Her wrists stung a little, but it was nothing compared to the way her heart was pounding. Every part of Aubrey hummed, her toes curled tight into the sheet as her body clamored for total participation. “I want the ‘or.’ Don’t you dare bring logic into this bed.”

  Levi kissed her hard. Aubrey was amazed by the sense of relief, the sudden permission to touch him, to run her hands over the thick ropey muscles of his arms, through his hair. The rhythm was disrupted, but only momentarily, as he leaned over the side of the bed. She admired the broad side of his back, a body that she wanted to wrap around hers. Levi came up holding a condom and a conversation about safe sex was implied. Yet, the fact that he carried one in his wallet was a surprising tidbit. Credit card, library card, insurance card, AAA card, she expected. If asked to make a list of must-haves for Levi, a condom did not pop to mind—not before now.

  He laid a foiled wrapper next to them and returned to making Aubrey the center of his attention. Mouths and tongues mingled as his fingers moved between her legs, touching Aubrey until she reached an absolute precipice—a lusty, breath-holding edge that she wanted to tumble headfirst into. The moment hung in the balance, her one free hand gripped around the feathery pillow, the other around him. Then Levi stopped, whispering hotly in her ear, “This is a damn nice mattress. Sink your knees into it for me . . . please.”

  For a second she couldn’t breathe, wanting to force his fingers into finishing what they’d started. She was amazed how intrigue and torture could fit into the same sensation. With her body writhing against his, she locked a leg around him. The action offered a shapely lure, demanding that he respond.

  But Levi was too tactical. “Do it. Please,” he said again, the request husky and determined. Levi’s hand closed around her chin, her own scent on his fingers. But Aubrey sensed that this was as much about her as it was him. Her fingertips raced over the candlelit lines of his angular jaw and his studious features. Her nose nuzzled deep into the hollow of his neck. She loved the smell of him—a trace of hard-worked aftershave, the lingering starch from the collar that had rode his neck, the scent of skin that was just Levi.

  The invitation wasn’t wildly outrageous, but it was wildly unexpected from a man whose public personality was inarguably buttoned-up. Aubrey turned her back to him, seeing the foiled wrapper vanish from her peripheral glance. What she felt, moments later, was Levi. First his hands, gliding strong over her back, his mouth painting light kisses more tenderly between her shoulder blades and down the small of her back. The act moved from pleasant to powerful, a dominating pulse of sensations as he thrust into her. His arm wrapped around Aubrey, his fingers finding their way, continuing on his earlier mission. The precipice widened, her body complementing his steady rhythm. She trusted Levi with every part of her life, and this reward fell beyond ordinary pleasure. It was delectable and uncharted. “This,” he said, moving with a bit more force, “is what I thought about . . . in a bed that I dreamed about, pretty damn close to this one.” Dream-like scenes spilled into reality. Aubrey’s hands caught around the wrought-iron rails of the headboard as an unlikely curse word slipped from her mouth. It captioned the moment. Both of them shuddered, melding into one another and onto the mattress. Breathlessly, Levi replied, “Exactly . . .”

  The after moments drifted toward sedate. Sexual adventure settled into a comfortable pocket that felt more like two old souls finding one another again. It just didn’t translate into two people who’d never shared the same bed. The man Aubrey knew best returned to her. She was content knowing there’d be more to learn another day. His hands moved gently, protectively, over her body, the ambiance of Levi weaving permanently into her life. It was where Aubrey was meant to be, the exact result if you were the focus of Levi St John’s undivided attention.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

  It was just after eight, but it felt more like a decadent midnight meal. Aubrey and Levi were comfortable on her couch, indulging in a delivery order from the Plastic Fork.

  Aubrey stretched her long legs across Levi’s lap, glad she had managed to grab the silkier bathrobe from the back of the closet, avoiding the terrycloth one with a strawberry jam stain on the lapel. She’d dared Levi to venture downstairs in his boxers, but quickly relented. That side of him belonged behind closed doors. He’d shuffled on his trousers, though he’d opted for bare feet, and tugged on his undershirt. He seemed relaxed and Aubrey liked how that looked in her living room. As she’d arranged the food on a tray, he’d built a fire and lit more candles. One bottle of wine later, Levi said, “I’m a straightforward man. Wouldn’t you say?”

  Aubrey tilted her head, studying him from her end of the sofa. “If you mean straightforward in a fluid Latin sort of way . . . Sure. But keep in mind; I’m a dead languages kind of girl.”

  “No argument there.” His tone was steady, though his gaze roamed the clingy line of the robe. It sent a fine shiver through Aubrey, thinking the sofa might get to play a part after all.

  “Why do you ask? Af
raid your bedroom comportment has sullied your image? That I might be tempted to kiss and tell in the ladies’ room?”

  “I don’t have any doubt this will stay between us—at least until I vacate Surrey. I just . . . Maybe I’d better back up a step. Tell me if I’m wrong, but this didn’t feel like a one-time thing—not to me.”

  Aubrey sipped her wine and smiled. “I don’t think you’re wrong.”

  “Good. So my question is: Do you know what you’re getting into? A lot of what you see is what you get. I’m not as unyielding as advertised, but I’m also . . .”

  “Not about to run away and join the circus.”

  “Not even a good carnival.”

  “I’m not asking you to be anyone other than who you are. I get that.”

  “Do you? I mean, everybody has idiosyncrasies, but mine . . .”

  “Yours?” she said, inching back. “Levi, have you met me?” Aubrey traded the wine for chocolate sorbet, popping a spoonful into her mouth.

  “Yes, but at times I can be . . . somewhat trying,” he said, lifting his wine glass. “Surely there are plenty of examples, but most glaring would be my work. I get too involved. Absorbed to the point where I need someone to physically stop me.”

  Aubrey leaned over and placed the sorbet on the table. “I’d volunteer.” She curled her long legs and adjusted her position on the sofa. They were eye to eye. “Do you think I’d stand any chance of curtailing your work habits?”

  Levi tucked her hair behind her ear, his fingertips fluttering over the traffic jam of earrings. “Better than anyone I can think of.”

  “Although, just so I have some talking points, what sort of alternative activities stand the best chance of distracting you?”

  His hand slid from her hair to her neck, drawing Aubrey into a lusty kiss. “You can always start there.”

  Poised on the verge of an encore to the bedroom scene, Aubrey said softly, “I’ll start a file—alphabetical, of course . . .” She kissed him then stopped. “But, Levi, what about . . .” In the small space between their bodies, Aubrey tangled her fingers with his. “While I appreciate warnings about work habits, what about me—my not so little extras?”