Page 19 of Bewitched By the Phantom
He picks me up for a split second before we both go tumbling onto his mattress, his large body coming over mine a splitsecond after I land. He overwhelms me, his body undulating against mine as he kisses me. It’s probably the best kiss I’ve ever had. His lips move with a grace I’ve never been able to master. His tongue sweeps inside my mouth to trace my teeth and tangle with my own. When he breaks the kiss to instead trace his lips down my neck, my body is so high strung, I might as well be connected to an amp.
“I’ve dreamed of tasting you like this,” he purrs against my skin. “You taste better than I remember.”
I freeze. “What?”
He pauses, his breath fanning across my skin before he lifts up enough to look down at me. He doesn’t say anything, his eyes tracing my expression carefully.
“Where did you get that record?” I ask him, the haze over my mind suddenly clear.
He tilts his head. “Do you like it?”
“It’s my voice,” I growl. “Mine.”
“Of course it is,” he muses. “I only borrowed it.”
“What the fuck does that mean?” I spit, before pushing at his shoulders. He moves without complaint, standing back to his feet. He offers me a hand, but I don’t take it.
“You’re looking for answers where there are none to be found, angel,” he offers instead.
I poke him in the chest. “I’m tired of your cryptic bullshit! What sort of stalker are you? What the fuck is this? And why do you have a record of my voice that I never recorded? Of a song I never recorded?”
“Angel—”
“Stop calling me that!” I snarl, baring my teeth at him. “You mother—” His hand snaps out and has the back of my neck in his hold before I can stop him. “Let go of me!”
“Shh,” he coos. “Everything will be clear soon.”
I jerk out of his hold and before I think better of it, I swing. No one grabs me like that without my permission. I swing right for that pretty mask, intending to break it. Before my fist connects, his hand is there, catching my fist, stopping me from destroying something so beautiful.
“That wouldn’t be a good idea, angel,” he breathes. “Trust me.”
I try to jerk my hand from his hold but he doesn’t let go. “You’re not just Erik, are you?” I accuse.
He watches me carefully. “What do you mean?”
“You’re him. The Phantom.”
It’s a hunch, one that I’ve grown more certain of the longer I’m here. He doesn’t deny it. He just studies my face. “Would it change anything if I were?”
And therein lies my answer. How would he even know what I’m talking about if he wasn’t my anonymous mentor?
He releases my hand and picks up his guitar. “Unfortunately, I’m late for rehearsal. Feel free to make yourself at home, angel.” His eyes twinkle. “I’d enjoy coming back to find you naked in my bed.”
“In your dreams,” I hiss.
He smiles. “Yes.”
And then he fucking leaves! The audacity!
I don’t stick around to give him the satisfaction of finding me back there. I turn to take the record—it’s mine and I’ll take it if I please—only to find it’s no longer in the record player. I spend five minutes looking for it, but when I can’t find it, I give up. Fucking bastard.
Unfortunately, I still have no answers, and I’m even more confused than I was before coming here.
But the taste of him lingers on my lips . . .
Chapter
Thirteen
