Page 52 of TBR: Dead But Well Read

“Not at all.” I moved against him, quivering as tiny shocks of pleasure shot through me. “You feel perfect.”

Bracing his left forearm on the bed to support his weight, Rhodes’ hand pressed against my lower back just above my butt, holding me to him.

“My turn,” he whispered, playfully nipping my neck just beneath my ear.

His turn to what? “Oooh!”

Rhodes undulated his hips in a smooth body roll that only mermaids and a few gifted dancers could pull off. Was there some kind of afterlife stripper certification men had to go through or something?

Finding the perfect rhythm, Rhodes’ hard length slid back and plunged forward as he continued rolling his body. With each forward thrust, he watched my face, figuring out which angles gave me the most pleasure and adjusting his movements in response.

I’d experienced two types of sex when I was alive. Fast and hard—which usually ended up with me faking things during the climatic scene. And the second type was lackluster and boring—which also required me to brush up on my acting skills just to get it over with.

Rhodes’ body was taut with tension and his own need, but he was in complete control. Every move of his body was purposeful, yet unhurried.

This was a different kind of sex, and it was intoxicating.

Tilting my head back, I looked up into Rhodes’ face and saw the answer shimmering in his eyes.

It’s different because he’s making love to me.

Lacing my arms around his neck, I pressed my cheek to his chest. “Don’t freak out, but I think I’m falling in love with you.”

For the first time, Rhodes’ movements faltered and his breathing hitched, but he quickly steadied both. “That’s good, since I’m already in love with you.”

Squeezing my eyes closed, I tried to keep the tears from falling. I’d never heard those words from a man. Heck, the last time anyone had even bothered to care about me, I’d been in kindergarten.

I mattered to Rhodes.

I was loved.

Clinging to his sweat-soaked body, I came apart as white-hot pleasure hit me with the force of a runaway train. Rhodes thrust twice more, then stiffened as he followed me into mind-numbing bliss. Rolling to his side, he pulled me into the shelter of his body and held my trembling body as tears of happiness slid down my cheeks.

I lay on the bed,watching the minutes of the bedside alarm clock slowly tick by. It was 1:20 in the morning, which meant I needed to make my escape if I wanted to make it to the UnderGrave in time for the mystery meeting at 2:30.

That was assuming I could even find my way there. I’d been directionally challenged when alive, and that hadn’t changed in death.

Before I worried about finding the club, I needed to get away from Rhodes without him knowing—something that was easier said than done, since the giant of a man was cradling me against his chest like I was his personal teddy.

I needed to shift to the reaper realm, but that would take finesse. If I vanished too fast, Rhodes’ arm would drop and it might wake him. And worse, what if I screwed this up and endedup in Saul’s bedroom? I had questions I wanted him to answer, but tonight was not the night.

With painstaking slowness, I let my body turn to shadows. It took almost ten minutes, but by 1:30, I was on the street outside of the house. A cool breeze drifted lazily down the street, tossing bits of debris and leaves along its path.

Closing my eyes, I built a mental image of the sin city with its extravagant dinner shows, restaurants, and pretty much every other type of entertainment on Earth. I’d teleported myself halfway around the world to a place I’d never been. This had to be easier.

When my mental picture was as good as it was going to get, I steadied my nerves and forced myself to relax.

“Branson, Missouri, here I come.”

Standing outside the club, I sighed in relief. It turned out, teleporting was a breeze… as long as I didn’t count my detours through a cow field, a movie theater, and someone’s sweet sixteen birthday party.

Watching the ghosts drift in and out through the walls, I decided this had to be the place. Plus, where else would you expect to see two guys with scythes smoking cigarettes, a green-skinned woman vomiting on the sidewalk outside, and three women parking their brooms next to a line of Harleys? Forget electric cars, brooms had to be the cleanest mode of transport.

Glancing down at my go-to shirt and sweats, I decided I needed to give myself a makeover if I wanted to blend in. Closing my eyes, I thought about the red silk dress I’d bought but never had the chance to wear.

In the front, the silk fabric draped loosely over my breasts, before dipping low enough to nearly show my belly button. Thinstraps held up the front of the dress and tied in a bow at the back of my neck, creating a halter top that left my back bare.

The dress wasn’t as short as what some girls going into the club were wearing and fell a few inches above my knee. But thanks to the slits that ran from the hemline almost to the top of my hips on either side of the dress, I was flashing a lot more skin.

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