Dead People

by Edie Ramer

  She gave a harsh laugh. “Right, I can tell.”

  “Let’s not talk about me. Let’s talk about you.” He kissed the top of her head. She tensed, then her body relaxed and she leaned against him.

  His heartbeat speeded. Not yet, he told himself. She wasn’t his yet. “Are you waiting for marriage?”

  “No.” Her answer came without missing a beat.

  “You had a bad experience too?”

  Her laughter started and caught. “How about a dozen bad experiences?”

  “You’ve met a lot of lousy men.”

  Her shoulders lifted a scant inch. Her neck stretched, the crown of her head pushing against his shoulder. “Ghost whispering isn’t exactly a hot occupation. The guys who ask me out are fascinated with ghosts, not me.”

  “One thing you can be sure of, it’s not your paranormal skills that attract me.” He bent down to kiss the vulnerable spot at the base of her neck. She tasted sweet and salty. Hunger clawed at his throat. He wanted to suck on every inch of her skin. He wanted to feast on her.

  Chapter Thirty-five

  Cassie stifled a moan as his hands slid up and down her arms. Heat skimmed along her nerve ends. She felt her defenses melting. All her reasons for not doing this floated away with his kisses.

  Later she might be sorry, but right now sorry was a small price to pay.

  Luke sucked gently at the tender skin of her neck. She let the moan out this time, low and throaty. Warmth sparked deep inside her, flaming up, up, up.

  “How does that feel?”

  He asked stupid questions. How did he think it felt?

  He nipped where he’d been sucking and she squeaked.

  “Does it feel good?”

  Damn, he was relentless. “Yes. Dammit, yes.”

  He laughed, a note of victory in his voice. “I knew it. You’ve wanted me all along.”

  She jerked out of his hold and twisted around. “You talk too much.” She grabbed his shoulders and pulled him close.

  Her lips met his open mouth, warm and soft, burning a song of passion into her body. He pressed harder, taking over, his tongue slipping in to dance with hers. His kiss claimed her. “This is my song,” it said. And his hands...they played up and down her spine, his fingers finding the sweet chords in her body that made her melt into him.

  She gripped his shoulders and clung to him. Her body wasn’t hers. It was a vessel for the passion that sang through her. She vibrated with need for him.

  “Luke.” She heard her voice. Pleading. Needy. Throaty. Not like her at all.

  What was he doing to her? She had so many reasons not to do this, but her reasons were melting away like ice cream under a hot sun. He touched only her arms and her lips, but her entire body cried with need. It drummed in her blood stream, a honeyed liquid seeping through her, readying her body for him.

  This was insane.

  His hands slid over her breasts.

  Her knees turned fluid, buckling. Her grip tightened on his arms and she dropped to the floor, taking him with her. They landed on the carpet, thick enough to muffle his music when he played, soft enough to cushion their knees.

  Or my back, she thought. Yes, she could lie on her back and open up her legs and then he could rub against her and—

  His hand slipped beneath her top, along her skin. Her breath caught. Oh God, oh God. Touch me more.

  Her plea was silent, but as if he heard her, he pushed up her top and her bra, then curved his palms over her breasts. He squeezed softly, as if feeling the weight and heft of her.

  She bucked against him. This was crazy, not like her at all. The alien who had taken over his body had invaded hers too. What happened to kissing and maybe we’ll do more tomorrow? What happened to caution? What happened to her commonsense? Where had it flown to?

  He panted. She panted.

  He kissed. She moaned.

  He nibbled. She spread her legs.

  And still his hands stayed above her waist, playing with her breasts as if he could do this for hours.

  “Beautiful,” he murmured.

  “They’re just breasts.” Her voice came out thick and dark. The calloused tips of his fingers scraped her nipples, and she shivered to the tune he played on her body.

  Instead of telling how he felt, he showed her with his mouth and his tongue and his teeth. Sucking, licking, nibbling.

  Until she wanted to scream, Enough! Stop and get to it!

  Instead she whimpered, clutching him. God, she was pathetic. A stream of craving ran through her. His touch felt so good she wanted it to go on forever.

  “Never stop touching me,” she murmured.

  “I won’t. Never.”

  He lied.

  She moaned. Her mind craved his lies. Her body craved his touch.

  “Take me.”

  His head lifted even as his fingers unbuttoned her slacks, apparently nimble from his years of guitar playing. An incentive for any adolescent boy to learn to play a musical instrument.

  She laughed softly at her thoughts.

  Then he pushed down her pants and she lifted her butt to make it easier for him. The pants were barely off when she sat up and tore off her top and bra, tossing them aside. Leaning back, she gave him what she hoped was a seductive smile. When he stared at her, she wondered if he thought she was grimacing in pain. But the next second, his hips nestled between her legs. He still wore jeans, and he pressed his denim clad pelvis against her.

  “Fuck me,” she said.

  As if he’d been waiting for those two words, he rolled off her and stood, jerking the zipper down and tearing the jeans down his legs as if she was paying him for speed.

  He got down on his knees between her legs. “Are you sure you’re ready?”

  “I’m ready.” Looking at him, she pushed up on her elbows. Desire tightened his face, an image she never wanted to forget. But one thing was missing. “But you’re not. Do you have a condom?”

  “Shit.” His eyes closed, his body tensing, silence pulsing around them. Then his eyelids lifted, his gaze piercing. “In my bedroom. Do you...?”

  She shook her head and a heavy sigh drew out of her mouth, the only sign of her vagina howling in protest, her body sobbing in disappointment. “You’d better get up and put your clothes on.”

  He remained between her spread legs, looking at her nude breasts and lower, his glance burning her inside and outside her skin. “Okay,” he said.

  Yet he didn’t move.

  “Luke, we can’t—”

  “I’ll take care of you another way.” He lowered his head down between her legs and showed her his tongue knew how to play an instrument as well as his hands. His mouth sucked, his tongue probed, his chin stubble scraped, creating a symphony of sexual tension within her.

  She cried, she bucked, she curled her hands into the short strands of carpet and hung on as her body danced to his tune. Wave after wave of orgasms slammed through her, each one more intense than the other, until finally she lay limp, whimpering and blissful.

  He moved up and laid down on top of her, holding her, his erection full against her belly. The energy slowly seeped back into her. Gradually, she felt his tension. She cupped her hands on his shoulders and pushed.

  Lifting up a few inches, he looked down at her, a question on his face.

  She smiled, feeling unlike herself. A sensual woman instead of a woman whose usual sex partner resided in her panty drawer. Later. She’d think about that later. But for now...

  “Now it’s my turn to take care of you.”

  “No, you don’t have to—”

  “I want to.”

  And she rolled him onto his back.

  And she spread his legs.

  And she knelt between his thighs.

  And she grabbed his erection.

  And she showed him she knew how to play his instrument just fine too.

  Chapter Thirty-six

  “This will never happen again.” Adjusting her top, Cassie sat cross-legge
d on the carpet, less than three feet from where they’d lain a few minutes ago.

  Standing, Luke zipped up his jeans and looked down at her with slumberous eyes. She read the message in them. Hell yeah, we will.

  She stopped fiddling with her top and scrambled to her feet, her legs unsteady. He had his shoes on—how did men dress so fast? With hers off, she was at least another half-inch shorter than him. Right now she felt like she needed every fraction of an inch she could get.

  “I’m not saying that to make you ask me for it.” She put her hands on her hips.

  He outlined his lips with his tongue.

  Arrogant jerk. If her body wasn’t still singing “I’m the Happiest Girl in the Whole USA,” she’d tell him where to put his tongue. But since it so recently had given her a level of satisfaction Hunk couldn’t match, she let it pass.

  “What I’m saying,” she spoke slowly, taking time to consider her words and avoid sounding like an idiot, “is we really don’t like each other.”

  He shrugged. “I like you.”

  The simple sentence made her heart skip a beat and her lungs constrict. She took a deep breath and ignored her body’s reaction to him. “You don’t like what I do. You think it’s freaky. You think I’m freaky.”

  He shrugged, but she saw the change in his face, a door slamming. The brooder back, the strutting rooster gone. “You weren’t talking to ghosts while we were together there.” He gestured at the now infamous—in her mind—rectangle of carpet.

  “We’re not always going to spend our time locked in the tower. There’s Erin, remember?”

  His face tightened. “She won’t know about this. It has nothing to do with her.”

  “I deserve better than a man who disapproves of me.” She looked him straight in his eyes, holding her head high. “I deserve someone who’s proud of me. All of me, all that I do. I won’t accept anything less.”

  One side of his mouth turned down. “You want to talk about emotions, you’ve got the wrong guy. I don’t do emotions.”

  “You’re right, I do have the wrong guy.” Her eyes burned and she didn’t know why. She’d already made the decision not to do this again.

  This should be a happy time. She should be patting herself on her back saying Good choice, Cassie. Any regrets were misplaced fantasies that came from reading too many happily ever after stories. Sure, she believed happy every after happened for a few fortunate people. She just wasn’t one of them.

  He strode to a window overlooking the lake. She crossed to another window. They were locked in the room together and there was nothing else to do unless she suddenly learned how to play a guitar.

  Instead, she peered at the lake. It looked murky today, clouds covering the sun. Not a happy day for Mother Nature either.

  “For myself, I don’t give a damn if you talk to ghosts,” he said, the words sounding forced out of him.

  She turned her head to look at him, but he continued to face away from her, his back rigid.

  “It’s Erin I’m protecting,” he continued. “She likes you. Maybe she’d come to accept you as...something in our lives. But I went through life with a mother who was different and kids can be mean. You saved Erin today, but if you stick around she’ll be a joke among the other kids. I was a guy and I could take it. But Erin’s fragile. She’s gone through enough already.”

  Her heart felt heavy. It wasn’t only “different” parents other kids avoided. They shunned the kids with the “different” label pinned on them. Even the nerds hadn’t wanted to be her friend.

  “That shouldn’t stop us from enjoying each other.” He turned away from the window, the slight smile on his face not reaching his shadowed eyes. “You’ll be leaving soon. Why not take advantage of the time left? You can come an hour earlier, before Erin gets home.”

  She stared at him. Was he saying what she thought he was saying? “Screwing you isn’t what you’re paying me for.”

  “Consider it a perk of the job.”

  She crossed her arms over her chest. The only good use for his tongue was what he’d been doing to her before. And after that comment, would never do again.

  Did he want her to hate him?

  He scratched his head. Maybe he wasn’t a complete idiot and was having second thoughts about—

  “Better yet, consider it like a coffee break.”

  She wished she had a cup of coffee in her hand right now. The hotter the better. She’d pour it over his head. The lower one that resided between his legs.

  “A sex break?” she asked in a sugary voice laced with venom.

  “Christ. Now you’re pissed.”

  “Really?” She smiled tightly at him. “You have a way with words. Have you ever thought of being a songwriter?”

  His lips twitched. “You make me laugh. No one else does that.”

  “Let me see.” She lifted one of her crossed arms and tapped her fingernail on her chin. “You like sex with me, I make you laugh, it’s convenient, and—here’s the closer—I’m only here temporarily. Have I covered everything?”

  He got that look on his face that said there she goes again. “I’m being honest.”

  “I’m being honest too when I say no thanks.” She held up her hand before he could speak. “And no arguments.”

  Someone knocked on the door. They both swiveled to face it.

  “Luke?” Tricia called. “Luke, are you there?”

  Luke strode to the door. Cassie followed him, her feet dragging for no reason she could think of.

  “I’m here,” Luke yelled. “Cassie’s with me. We’re locked in. Do you know where a key is?”

  “I do, but...” The door handle turned. A second later, it was open. From the top of the door, a key clattered onto the floor. “It’s not locked.”

  “It was locked,” Luke said.

  “It was locked,” Cassie said at the same instant. Tricia looked at her, her eyes narrowed, a frown between her eyebrows.

  Heat scalded Cassie’s cheeks. She and Luke might have sounded a tad defensive.

  Lifting her nose in the air, Tricia sniffed. “What’s that smell? I just cleaned here—” She slapped her hand over her mouth, her face turning red.

  Cassie sniffed too. Oops. There was no mistaking the sharp smell of semen. She shared a look with Luke. Tricia backed out, pink blotches on her cheeks. “I’ll see you downstairs.” Her voice was muffled and her eyes shocked.

  The next second, her footsteps tapped down the stairs, racing away from them. Cassie turned to Luke. “That was uncomfortable.”

  “It didn’t bother me.”

  She stalked past him out of the room. Men were so different from women, she sometimes wondered how the world got populated.

  When she reached the first floor, she heard pots and pans clattering in the kitchen. Cassie swerved into the family room. What could she say to Tricia? Nothing. Tricia would just have to deal with it.

  Isabel waited in the family room, hovering a couple feet above the gleaming wood floor in the middle of the room, smiling gleefully.

  Cassie set her hands on her hips. “Why did you do that?”

  “I wanted to see if you managed to have that good sex you were telling me about.” She smirked. “It seems you weren’t lying.”

  Cassie turned away. What she most wanted to do right now would leave her with a frozen hand and a flaming hot temper.

  But with every cell of Cassie’s body, she wanted to smack her.

  ***

  Luke watched Cassie get in the car and a spark of light inside him blinked off. He turned and walked to the back window, not wanting to watch her drive away. Without the sun shining, the lake looked bleak, as if vicious creatures lurked in its depth.

  He shoved his hands in his pockets. Why did women make everything so complicated? From all Cassie’s screaming and moaning he knew she enjoyed the sex as much as he did. But the few minutes of sexual release weren’t worth the twenty minutes after-game rehash.

  So why did replayin
g her squeaks and cries in his mind cause his blood to flow downstream? Why did remembering the feel of her breasts—full, soft, warm—make his dick swell? Why did he want to run down to his bedroom and grab a handful of condoms?

  Why did he want to do it again? And again? And again?

  It wasn’t as if he’d ask her to stick around after Isabel left. She was wrong for Erin. With her “talking to ghosts” gigs, she’d be the death knell to Erin’s social life.

  The memory of his mother moondancing in front of his grade school still made him wince and—an unexpected side effect—shrink his erection. Even in sunny California the incident sealed his fate for his school years, and the other kids didn’t even know about Joy’s string of live-in loser boyfriends.

  Erin was a hundred times worse off than he’d been, raised by a junkie. No wonder she rejected the normality of Tricia and responded to Cassie’s oddity. She was used to odd. Her way of life was odd.

  The wrong way of life.

  He took his hands from his pockets and splayed them on both sides of the window, dropping his head forward and closing his eyes. Closing out the emptiness.

  Cassie was right. Better to stay away from her.

  Still, he supposed it wouldn’t hurt to keep a few condoms in his pocket.

  He seemed to have a low level of resistance when he was around her.

  Apparently, so did she.

  A smile grew inside him. Who the hell was he kidding? If he had an opportunity, he’d jump her bones faster than he could pull down his zipper.

  If it happened again, he’d be prepared.

  ***

  Cassie parked in front of her room, and a wave of claustrophobia hit her. She wanted out of here. This motel, this town, this state.

  Squashing down the emotion, she trudged into her room. The phone on the table blinked at her. When she picked up the receiver, a mechanical voice told her a package awaited her at the front office.

  A middle-aged woman with garlicky breath behind the motel desk handed Cassie a padded envelope. Printed on the return address label was Cassie’s stepmother’s name and upscale suburban address. Cassie frowned. This was the first time her stepmother had sent her anything.