Clyde’s gaze eased just a little, shifting from the arrogant cast it had to it to a more affable, albeit cocky smile. “For someone who’s so open to life after death, and ghosts and demons and all the other crazy shit that really does exist, you can be just a bit judgmental, but apology accepted.”
In guilt, she looked down at her toes. “You’re right. I was being judgmental and biased because of your fascination with facts and figures, and obscure shit like music trivia. You yourself said you were wrapped up in manuals and your research. Those can be cold things. They don’t allow for gray areas. Possibilities that involve emotions.”
Clyde’s fingers tilted her chin up so she was forced to look at him. “So you immediately came to the conclusion that I’m incapable of believing in things like soul mates and true love. Which also meant I’d be attacking what you hope someday you can have. A husband. Children. Someone to love you until death do you part. So here’s something else you don’t know—my parents had that. I’ve seen it firsthand. I lived it with them. Their marriage was a testament to true love. A deep, unconditional match made in soul mate history. I wanted the same thing—I just didn’t find it with Tia. Conclusions without all the facts can be a tricky thing, Ghost Lady.”
Delaney gulped, but the truth was the truth, painfully naked as it was. “I did jump to conclusions.”
His eyes compelled her to hold his gaze, his grip on her chin almost forcing her head back and her neck to arch. “I’m not done. A few months ago I might have agreed with your assessment of me. I’m the first to admit, I didn’t believe in a lot of things. Then Satan called my bluff. My perspective on things has changed since then. I had three months in Hell to give a great deal of thought to a lot of things in my life—things I missed out on, even some regrets. And while the logical side of me reminds me I can’t go back and undo the time I didn’t spend with people or the Christmas dinners I missed because I was wrapped up in my work, the other half of me, the half that’s become maybe just a little sentimental, bordering on maudlin, wishes he could.” His nostrils flared, his eyes flashed her “take that information and shove it up your ass” signals.
So shut up, you presumptuous, nosy, discriminatory, conclusion-jumping, ghost-channeling bitch.
Dude.
He was hard-core when he got riled up. So much so that she couldn’t tear her eyes from him—or back away from the heat of his body, now so close they just missed touching one another.
The air in the room was suddenly gone—whether from his unexpected rant or from the breathlessness he created by standing this near, she wasn’t sure. The lack of sound, the slowing of her heartbeat, the narrow pinpoint of vision that only included Clyde captivated her.
He leaned in even closer to make another point, but his voice had a low husky tone to it that was unmistakably sexy-serious. “I’m not mocking your secret desires, Delaney. I know how much you want those things. I didn’t just read it in your file in Hell, I see it in the way you treat your dogs, in how much you seem to love Kellen, in your dedication to helping spirits cross over. In how you sacrificed your friend for her own good—and mine. I. Get. It. Don’t ever mistake my love of science and logic for lacking a heart. I had one—I just didn’t spend a lot of time listening to it when I had the chance.”
Somewhere between the words “secret desires” and “dogs,” her hands had somehow landed on his biceps, rounded, hard beneath hot skin. Her breathing had stopped entirely. Her libido had decided now was the perfect time to fire it up.
The choice was made before Delaney even considered not only the consequences, but that there would be an act that required consequences.
That choice being her lips all in attack mode, latching onto Clyde’s like they were on lockdown. The force of their contact made Clyde rock backward, but he took her with him, crushing her against the length of his sculpted frame until her chest ached and her toes curled.
His tongue, silken, hot, drove into her mouth, pulling a gasp from somewhere deep in her throat. Her back was hard up against a wall, all at once, and without any memory of movement. Clyde’s hands kneaded her spine, hoisting her legs up around his waist, dragging them lower and lower until she lifted her hips upward in soundless approval.
Reason flew out the window and hot on its heels was her sanity when Clyde pulled her skirt up, grazing fiery fingers over her thighs, caressing the sensitive flesh at the tops of them.
Her muscles clenched in aching response.
So did her ears when dogs number one and five began to howl. Dogs two, three, four, and six joined the mix, their toenails clattering against the hardwood floor, bringing the clinch they were in to an abrupt halt.
Delaney tore her mouth from Clyde’s with reluctance, leaning her head back against the wall to find air for her tortured lungs.
Clyde let his head rest against her jaw, his breath coming in jagged huffs. “Do they have to go to the bathroom?”