Page 68 of Ghosted
“A wolf,” I say indignantly, waving a hand at my black-painted nose.
“Ah. That explains the tail, then. I wondered, but was too afraid to ask,” he says, eyes bright with mischief even though his face remains stoic.
I sigh and protest, “Okay, why does everyone jump to a furry thing? What does that say about me?”
“Hey, I don’t judge! I can be into that if you want me to,” he says, tilting his head coyly.
“Um, no. I don’t judge either, but I think sex with a ghost is already strange enough for me,” I state, shaking my head.
He just laughs, placing a hand against my neck and tilting my face up. His expression turns more sincere when he says, “I liked that you called me your boyfriend. That you even introduced me to your family.”
I smile a little, feeling dazed in the thrall of his deep-brown eyes. “It’s no big deal. I didn’t know how else to explain us, and I wanted you to meet them before—Well. Before.” I finish, not wanting to say the rest.
Before you leave me here alone for the next fifty to sixty years.
“Right. Yeah. The whole ticking clock thing,” he says, stepping back. “And I guess you wouldn’t want to tell your family that we’re just having fun, right?” He nods his head, like it makes sense. Hearing him boil down whatever this is between us to just sex twists in my gut like a serrated knife.
I swallow, my throat suddenly tight. “Right, yeah,” I echo with a nod.
“Because it would be dumb to want anything more when we can’t have it,” he says, more to himself than me.
I feel a twinge of unease, knowing I’m keeping a secretfrom him… the possibility of more. But I want him to see what it feels like to have the option to move on before I bring it up. I want him to fully understand what he’s giving up if he chooses to stay.
“Yeah,” I finally answer, my body betraying me by stepping closer.
Dean searches my face, and whatever he reads there seems to give him the permission he needs. He steps into me, cupping my jaw reverently. “I can’t pretend with you, Rae,” he says, sounding almost angry with himself.
“What do you mean?”
“I can’t pretend I don’t want you, no matter how short a time I get to have you. I can’t pretend I’m not so fucking angry at whoever is in charge for letting me meet you too late. I can’t pretend that I’m not falling for you. I can’t pretend I’m not terrified of losing you,” he murmurs, pressing his forehead against mine.
`“I—” the words stick in my throat. I try to make more come out, to tell him that I feel the exact same way, but it feels like someone has wrapped a vise around my neck, cutting them off at the source.
“It’s okay. You don’t have to say anything. I’m the one with limited time, so I needed to tell you that. I don’t want any more regrets.”
I nod, taking the coward’s way out that he presents me with. I tilt my head minutely, and he does the same, leaning down so he can brush his lips against mine. He takes control of the kiss, drawing me impossibly close until I’m completely engulfed by him. He’s all I can taste. All I can feel.
Before I even realize it’s happening, he has me seated on the couch, my legs bracketing his hips as he kneels before me.He breaks the kiss and gives me a heated look that makes me squirm.
“So, I’m pretty sure this is one of your fantasies,” he says, gesturing to his pirate costume with a raised brow. All I can do is nod along like an idiot, because I want him to get to the point and get back to kissing me. “I’m going to lose the hat, because I don’t think it will allow for what I’m going to do,” he says, snapping his fingers. The tricorn hat vanishes, and I pout. Now he looks more sexy-duke-that-got-lost-at-sea than pirate, but the eyeliner helps.
“Sorry, but I think it’ll be worth it for the view,” he states.
“The v—” I stutter as he flips the skirt of my dress over my stomach. He yanks down my underwear, grips me behind the knees, and tugs me to the edge of the couch. I step out of my underwear before he gets the idea to rip them off. He pushes on my sternum, coaxing me to lean back against the couch. He looks at me from his position on the floor, relishing in the anticipation of the moment. Then he leans in greedily, using his hands to spread my thighs as wide as they’ll go to accommodate the breadth of his shoulders.
He was right. The view is definitely worth it.
THIRTY-EIGHT
I wake up naked,sheets thrown haphazardly over my back, hugging my pillow. My apartment is freezing because I forgot to turn the heat on last night.
“Rae,” Dean coaxes. “Come on, baby. You have to get up now.”
“Hmm?” I grunt, burying my face in my pillow and tugging my sheets higher up my back.
“Rae, I think I know who murdered me,” he says flatly.
I sit bolt upright, spitting rogue hairs out of my mouth. I clutch the sheets to me more for warmth than for the sake of being precious about my boobs—the man has seen them plenty by this point. “What?” I croak, blinking the sleep from my eyes.
