“I stand corrected,” he said with a chuckle.
She let her head fall back to his chest, allowing the moment to just be.
“Mind if I borrow your Stephen King book for the plane ride?”
“I’d have never pegged you for a King fan. I thought you’d be more of a Calculus in Your Everyday Life kind of guy,” she joked.
“Then you were wrong, and maybe that makes us not so different.”
“Well, then, I stand corrected.”
“You reading Stephen King makes some kind of weird sense to me.”
She giggled. “It should. His imagination is far creepier than almost anything that happens to me in real life.” Almost. “I always end up feeling two things when I close one of his books: lucky and superior.”
“So you’re an action-adventure, supernatural kind of girl—movies, I mean.”
“I haven’t been to a movie in ages, but if I had my druthers, it’d be a thriller or a horror flick like they used to make them—Halloween, Michael Myers style.”
“Again, not so different. Though, for me, it was Friday the 13th.”
“So tell me something?”
“You bet,” he hummed against her ear.
Why was he making it a point to mention their commonalities? Her head fell away from his chest to tilt upward. “Are you trying to rub in the things we have in common for a reason—or do you just have to be right?”
“Do you have to be a sore sport or are you just sensitive? I was just making conversation. Ease up there, ghost lady.” He smiled, all bright and cocky, before he tucked her head back against his chest. “If neutral’s your thing, we could always talk about the theory of relativity or the evolution of man.”
“Again, very different. I’d rather have my eyeballs gouged out with one of Marcella’s high-heeled shoes.”
Clyde laughed. “What do you like to do besides read and watch Ghost Whisperer? Got any hobbies? Like decoupage or sculpting?”
She paused for a moment, then frowned. Okay, enough with how small her life was. “Nope, as of late my only hobby is crossing souls for sport.”
“I didn’t have any either, but I always wanted to try parasail ing.”
“I’m afraid of heights.” So, yeah. Not so much in common. See me stick my tongue out at you.
“That’s not all you’re afraid of.”
“You made your point, Atwell. Back the hell up.”
Clyde laughed against her ear, but without warning, his voice took on a serious note. “I think we might need to stop now.”
“Is it time to leave for the airport already? I thought we had another two hours.”
“That’s not why we need to stop.”
“So why are we stopping?” she mumbled, forgetting her promise to herself that she wouldn’t succumb to his charms. She didn’t want to stop. She wanted to stay like this for as long as her legs would hold her up, and long after.
Clyde pressed her hips to his in answer.
Oooooh. Yeah. If there were a reason to stop, that’d be a solid one. Reealllly solid. Because she wasn’t getting too attached, and what lay between them might be hard to detach her from if this kept up.
Yet neither of them pulled away.
The music had stopped, but the sway of their bodies hadn’t.
“Your call,” he murmured against her ear, sending a sinful cluster of tingles across her neck.
Yeah, like she should be responsible for calling a halt to anything at this weak moment. That was like leaving Bozo the Clown in charge of world peace.
Delaney knew this shouldn’t happen again. Compiling the already fantasticalness of the other night with more of the same was asking too much of herself. She needed some willpower here—some nads—some something to stop this madness that would leave her doing exactly what Marcella had said she’d do.
Cry.
A lot.
Her body disagreed wholeheartedly and so did her fingers. Fingers that trailed up over Clyde’s arms and wound around his neck, threading through the hair at his nape.
She stood on tiptoe, pressing her lips to his, coaxing, tasting, savoring the taste of his mouth. Clyde’s tongue rasped against hers, dueling with it, demanding she submit to him while his arms dragged her closer. Their moan was shared, as though neither of them could survive a moment longer without each other’s lips.
Clothes were peeled without hesitation from hot, achy bodies, falling to the floor without so much as a thought. Delaney moaned with husky need when Clyde lifted her, wrapping her legs around his waist, then sitting at the edge of her bed.