by Lauren Smith
His hungry gaze raked over her bare breasts and between her thighs. A look so possessive, so hot she could actually feel it on her skin.
He ran his hands up and down her arms, soothing her. She licked her lips, craving to taste him, her body screaming for his. Without another word, he gripped her waist and pulled her flush against him. His cock nestled against her belly, and he thrust his tongue between her lips, owning her mouth. He guided her back against the shower wall, cupping her ass, lifted her, and shoved a knee between her thighs, spreading her open. When he broke the kiss to gaze down at her center, she blushed scarlet and tried to close her legs. Vulnerability blazed in her, making her weak and scared of what he might think.
“You’re so beautiful.” He parted her folds with one finger, tracing heated patterns in the sensitive flesh.
She trembled and gripped his shoulders for support. He was undoing all of her defenses with that wicked touch.
“Do you want me inside you? I’ll make love to you, slow, hard. I’ll part this soft flesh, drive inside you until you scream… Do you want that?” The edge to his tone only made her wetter. She loved that he gave into his passion completely.
The ferocity etched in his handsome features made her whimper with need. She needed his raw passion, needed his animal lust to take over. He placed himself at her entrance, waited for her impatient nod and shoved inside.
His first thrust was fast and hard, everything he promised. She threw her head back and arched away from the wall as he withdrew and slammed home. The sensation of him filling her, merging their bodies in an explosion of bliss caught her completely unprepared. Had sex ever felt like this? Like heaven and earth and every breathless second in between?
“Bastian!” His name was a breathless prayer on her lips. A plea for more.
His hands dug into her hips as he held her still for his ramming hips.
The hiss of water around them and rhythmic sounds of their flesh striking together was so hot that she panted, her body on fire and restless with the need to come. Her heels sank into his lower back, holding him to her. He snarled and dropped his head to her neck, sinking his teeth in her skin to hold her in place. The rough love bite sent her over the edge.
An orgasm burst through her, flooding her senses with a euphoria of dark, sinful pleasure. She surrendered to the riptide of sensations and slumped against the wall. He kept thrusting, little feral growls escaping his throat, vibrating against her neck, making her body ripple with mini-orgasms.
He came with a roar, pressing deep inside her. He rolled his hips tight against hers, riding out his own pleasure, as though determined to keep them as close as possible. His forehead rested against hers as they shared breath, eyes closed.
“Bloody hell…Jane…” He groaned. “I didn’t think about protection. I just lost my mind when I kissed you.”
She stroked his face with her fingertips, making his eyelashes fan open. “It’s okay. I’m on the pill.” She nibbled his lower lip. “I like that you lost control.”
Hot water pelted his back and shoulders, and she leaned forward to lick the beading droplets off his skin. He shifted and groaned softly as though agonized by the ecstasy of her tongue on his flesh. There was something wildly intimate about that moment. Nothing between them, no secrets. Just two beating hearts in time and the comfort of human touch.
He cleared his throat. “Jane, I’m sorry I took advantage…”
She captured his lips, silencing the unnecessary apology. She offered him her acceptance by stroking his hair, his back, any part of him she could reach.
“I wanted that more than you,” she murmured against his lips.
He smiled crookedly and took one of her nipples between his thumb and forefinger, tweaking it until she gasped in pleasure and arched. His cock jerked to life inside her.
“I wouldn’t make that bet, darling.”
“Oh?” Her lashes fluttered open. Surely he didn’t mean…
“I’ve had only the most wicked thoughts about you. I’m betting a few of them are illegal in some countries.”
His teasing tone and the carnal promise of his words had her clit pulsing and her legs shaking with anticipation. Little aftershocks of pleasure kept rippling through her as he continued to play with her, sweet, gentle, but no less seductive.
“You’re a genuine bad boy, eh?” She laughed, trying not to squirm as he rocked into her, their bodies still connected.
He dropped a kiss on the tip of her nose. “More than you know.”
…
Bastian insisted on properly washing her, and it wasn’t just an excuse to keep touching her. That was merely a bonus. Truthfully, he needed to care for her. She’d been through so much since coming here, and he felt somehow responsible.
She leaned back against him as he soaped her body. Her surrender was amazing. She was willing to trust him completely with her body. His past relationships had been with volatile, passionate, and wild women, and he’d enjoyed the roller coaster. Jane was different. She was sweet, curious, passionate, and trusting. All it took was one look from her bedroom eyes, and he had trouble keeping control of his own release. He’d taken her raw, dirty, and rough, and she’d had the audacity to smile like a sleepy kitten and nuzzle him afterward.
“You’re quite a woman, Jane.” He licked the delicate shell of her ear.
She answered with a shivery little sigh, her lashes fanning out across her cheeks as she closed her eyes.
He turned her in his arms and kissed her, his hands sliding down the slope of her back and over her backside. She arched into him, an invitation to take what he desperately needed.
“Round two?” he asked between kisses.
“I demand nothing less.” She laughed breathlessly.
Without another word, he swept her back over his arm, trailing kisses down her neck to her breasts. Taking time to explore the tender peaks with his teeth and tongue, he delighted in the little moans and gasps she made as he bit and sucked on each nipple. Her hands roamed his shoulders before stopping in his hair, tugging fiercely on the strands when he played a little rough with her breasts.
When neither of them could stand another minute of his sensual torture, he backed them up so he could sit on the bench in the shower, the hot spray covering them.
“Straddle me,” he growled as he pulled her down on his lap.
“I’ve never done…” She blushed but he captured her mouth with his, distracting her from her embarrassment before he showed her how to guide him into her body. She hissed softly when she took him all the way inside.
“Oh God!” She threw her head back, her breasts thrust out like tantalizing offerings and he couldn’t resist.
He threaded his fingers through her hair, tugging gently on the strands to keep her head back and her breasts close to his mouth. With urging from his hips, she soon learned to ride him in a wild rhythm that wound him so tight and kept him so hard he couldn’t remember his name. There was nothing beyond the ecstasy of being with her, feeling her silken sheath wrapped around him, her cries filling his ears. When they flew apart in each others’ arms, he saw something so deep, so pure in her eyes that it stopped time. For a second he couldn’t breathe, couldn’t speak, he simply stared back, lost in her gaze, hoping he reflected back what he was feeling and seeing in her eyes.
“Bastian…” His name trembled off her lips before she buried her face in his neck, pressing light kisses on his skin.
“Jane,” he whispered back, her name a midnight prayer.
Neither of them said anything more as they cleaned themselves again. It was Jane who finally broke the silence.
“What are we going to do about Cordelia?”
He shut off the water, helped her out of the shower, and then wrapped her in a white, fluffy towel. He ignored her question, not wanting to answer it, and covered her head with the towel.
She freed her face from the towel with an irritated little huff and glared.
“Well?”
He smiled as her eyelids dropped to half-mast and she licked her lips. Then she seemed to come back to herself.
“Seriously, we have to come up with a plan. We can’t just sit around and let her pick us off one by one. Not doing anything about a ghost is how horror movies start.” She turned her back on him and stalked out of the bathroom. She put on her pj’s, covering up all that delectable skin he hadn’t yet tasted.
“We will have a plan. Tomorrow.” He followed her into the bedroom.
“We might be dead by then.” Her tone dripped with sarcasm, but the effect was lessened by the cute way she shrugged her shoulders and finished buttoning her top. The move appeared effortless, casual, but when she caught him watching, her cheeks flushed, and she ducked her face bashfully.
“We won’t be. You’ve been watching too many horror movies.” He gripped the collar of her top. “Tomorrow we’ll find out more about Cordelia Huntington.”
When her eyes narrowed with obvious skepticism, he tugged her to him, kissing her. It was a much-needed diversion for them both. His tongue danced with hers, melting the chill of the night, and she relaxed in his arms. Her soft lips erased the awful memory of seeing that phantom with the rotting face in the garden.
He clutched her harder, using her healing sensuality to rescue himself from the brink of madness. That’s what this was.
Madness.
It was insane to fall for a nosy American who was determined to write a dissertation on his family. Insane to think he could restore a castle when his workforce jumped at every shadow. But the worst part was that he’d seen things he couldn’t explain. The figure in the garden, the woman in the white dress who vanished over a cliff, and that vision in the drawing room.
The shield of disbelief he erected as a small boy against the darkness and the monsters crumbled against the evidence there was more in the shadows than he wanted to believe.
Ghosts do exist.
When she wrapped her arms tight about his waist and sighed against his throat, he knew it was time to sleep. He lifted her into his arms, enjoying her feminine gasp of surprise as he set her down in his bed.
When he straightened, his body blocked out the light from the window, shrouding Jane in darkness. Moonlight tread around him on cat’s paws, unable to reach her. An ancient primal fear rose within him at the sight of her, as though his soul recognized she was in danger.
“Bastian?” She opened her arms to him, inviting him to join her. The fortress of stone guarding his heart shuddered and quaked against her sweet entreaty.
“Hold me.” She waved her hands, begging him to move closer.
The walls inside him crumbled like those of Jericho after a trumpet call. He climbed into bed and wrapped his body around hers. He buried his face in her wet hair, the peppermint-tea aroma of his shampoo became a new drug to his system.
Am I lost? Can one lose one’s soul to another?
“Yes…” The reply came back in a silvery voice, faded by death and centuries.
Bastian’s eyes flew open, scanning the room for an intruder.
It was empty, save for himself and Jane.
Chapter Sixteen
The following morning, Jane couldn’t believe she was staring at the most expensive car money could buy. An Aston Martin sat in the drive outside Stormclyffe’s front door.
“That’s your car?”
“You like it?” Bastian tossed the keys at her.
They bounced off her chest and hit the ground with a heavy clink.
“Like it? I think I want to steal it! No wonder you can’t go into town unnoticed.” She snatched up the keys and gazed at the Aston Martin with sheer lust. It was a model One-77, a gray, two-seat coupe. What person in her right mind wouldn’t like it?
“You want to drive?” He pointed at the keys in her hands, the wind teasing his dark blond hair and playfully blowing it in his eyes.
She wanted to hold onto this moment forever. The picture of him smiling, leaning one hip casually against a car almost as sexy as he was, with the sea behind him.
In her hand she held the car keys, but it seemed like the keys to something more. A dream. Yet here she was living in a haunted castle and sleeping with a veritable sex god with a tender heart. Living a dream. It didn’t matter that Bastian hid that softness with an exterior of arrogance. She’d broken through to him, and the man beneath was unbelievable.
I’m falling for him, and he could break my heart. What if, after all of this is over, he doesn’t want me? She’d never really known rejection until Tim. And once stung with that sort of pain, she couldn’t erase the phantom ache being abandoned left behind. If she fell in love with Bastian and he didn’t return those feelings, it would crush her. She wasn’t sure she could survive a second time. It was why she’d fought so hard to keep her distance, and yet it hadn’t worked. They’d been pulled together like a moon and planet, gravity knotting them into each other’s orbit. Inescapable. What would happen when they broke apart?
“Are you well, Jane?” His graceful stride toward her was panther-like. He cupped her face, thumbs brushing away her tears. “Don’t cry. Please…” His voice was a gruff whisper. “Whatever is causing those tears, don’t think about it. This will all be over soon.”
Her eyes shut, and he kissed her lips, holding her tight for a long moment.
“I’ll drive,” he whispered.
She nodded, desperately focusing on the research ahead of them. She had to forget that her time with him would end. That the irrevocable change he wrought within her would mark her forever as his, but she’d never have him. He’d said it himself. It would all be over soon. It meant he didn’t want her, not enough to ask her to stay. This was nothing more than a temporary fling, an intense hookup of two people under a lot of stress. No emotions, no feelings, just sex. And for him it would be over soon. The words were like iron nails in a coffin of the last surviving piece of hope her heart clung to that she could ever be in love with someone who loved her back. Never again.
…
An hour later, Jane and Bastian were holed up in an empty study room of the Weymouth library, with a huge stack of books on Stormclyffe and copies of the birth and death records from the surrounding parishes. They’d poured over every bit of history they could find about Bastian’s family including the wedding announcement for Richard and Isabelle and the birth record of baby Edward.
After everything she’d experienced with the visions and the diary, she felt connected to the doomed lovers, and reading about their lives had made her heart clench. Such love and happiness—all of it ruined because of one woman’s jealousy and greed. Bastian had been there with her through the entire research, his fingers laced through hers. Every now and then he leaned over and pressed a kiss to her temple. He dug deeper and deeper into her heart, leaving her no hope of ever living without him in her life again, but she’d have to when he ended it between them.
Bastian’s cell phone buzzed against the wooden library table. He picked it up and then looked at her.
“A colleague of mine, an expert in Latin translations texted me what you wrote down.”
Her heart gave a painful thump against her ribs and a knot of fear seemed to solidify in her stomach.
“What did Cordelia’s words mean? It was a spell, right?” She knew it had to be.
Bastian glanced down at the screen. “Let your heart be filled with darkness and shadows consume your soul. You belong to me for all eternity. All male heirs shall be mine.”
“Whoa.” For a second Jane just let the words sink in. “That sounds like a spell to me. The part that worries me is the male heirs. It’s like she was marking your entire family, not just Richard. Every man since him has had some sort of tragedy. Lovers, wives, children of the heirs have all been lost tragically or horrifically.” The evidence was in
those records she’d examined her first day.
“If it is a spell, shouldn’t there be a way to break it?” he asked, frowning.
“That’s what I was thinking.” Jane nodded. “But it’s not like Cordelia left us a handy little Guide to Being an Evil Witch lying around. We don’t know what we have to do to stop her.”
“Or do we?” Bastian sat up straighter. “What once was broken must be mended. Maybe we have to fix the castle. It’s what my father tried to do; it’s what I’m trying to do. The need to fix it is almost bone-deep, Jane. Like I have to do it.”
She pursed her lips and considered it. Fixing a castle? It didn’t seem like a logical way to break a curse, but then again, this was her first curse to break so she wasn’t sure how to go about it.
“Let’s finish researching here, before we decide what to do about the spell. We still need to figure out more about her body after she died and how it ended up in your garden.”
“Very well.” He thumbed idly through the pages of a book, then suddenly froze. He flattened the book open and spun it around for her to see.
“Here.” He tapped a section.
She read it aloud. “The year 1811 marked one of the darkest hours in Weymouth. The fifth Earl of Weymouth and his wife suffered tragic deaths. But theirs was not the only tragedy. Cordelia Huntington, daughter of a local gentleman in the village, mysteriously disappeared around the same night the earl died. Her body was never found, and she was presumed dead seven years later.”
“What happened to her body?” He shut the book.
“I don’t know. Someone had to have moved it from the castle. The question is who?” She slid back in her chair desperately trying to think. “I assume it was one of Richard’s servants. They would have seen two bodies in that room and probably disposed of Cordelia’s.” She closed her eyes, envisioning the scene again.
“If they were anything like Randolph is to me,” he noted, “they might have wanted to keep scandal away from Richard’s family and taken Cordelia’s body and buried it in the garden.”
Shuffling her papers and sliding them back into her bag, she turned to him. “That’s true. I just wish the articles on Richard’s body being found had mentioned who found him. None of them mentioned a person by name.”