Leave Me Breathless

Chapter Two


Ghost. Where the hell had he gotten a name like that? He wasn’t particularly pale. Well, maybe a little. But not what she’d call ghastly or anything. There was nothing…wraithlike about him at all; he was a very solidly built six-two or so, judging by how tall he stood next to her five-six.

Tattooed. Pierced. Shaved head, though right now he wore a black baseball cap pulled low over his eyes with the hood of his black sweatshirt over it.

The very antithesis to everything she wanted, or thought she wanted.

He was looking right at her, shit-eating grin in place, one dark eyebrow arched. That stare was like a vacuum. Or a black hole. Nothing could escape it.

“Hi!” she managed to squeak—she even managed a smile. When his own grin widened, she pushed herself up from her seat to give him a hug. Unfortunately, her legs were Jell-O, and his tight squeeze kept her from getting up close and personal with the floor even more than those shaking appendages did.

He felt good. Warm, despite the chill of the night air still clinging to his hoodie. Familiar, even if she’d only been in those arms once.

And then he had to speak, the rumble of his voice raising the hair at her nape. “Hey, killjoy.”

Everyone laughed, delighted at the return of the nickname he’d pinned on her not long after they’d met. She only then realized Brian had joined them too, and was snuggling into the booth next to his girlfriend.

“I have a question,” Ghost announced as Macy reclaimed her seat and he slid in beside her, practically cramming her against the wall. His denim-clad thigh was rock hard against her bare one. Sam claimed what was left of the seat on his other side, so she was well and truly trapped. A shiver worked through her. “What in the actual f*ck are we doing in a honky-tonk?” He motioned around at the plethora of cowboys and cowgirls dancing to the twang of country music.

“It’s Macy’s night,” Candace said as Brian nuzzled her neck. “She got to pick.”

“Ah, that figures. Just don’t get Brian and me into a brawl with any rednecks. I’m not too stoked to spend the night in jail when I just hit town.” Ghost winked at her. God, those eyes. If she hadn’t been so close to him she’d have sworn he lined them. But no, his bottom lashes were just that thick. If he had hair on his head, she figured it would be the same chocolate brown as his goatee—and maybe he did have hair on his head now for all she knew. She couldn’t tell. But he was one of those guys who definitely rocked the look—his features were strong enough. He stretched out both arms, one behind Macy and one behind Sam, and tilted his chin up at Brian. “I’ve got double your fun, dude.”

Brian, who was mid-smooch with Candace, broke away and laughed. “Good for you. I’ve got all the fun I can handle right here.” Candace blushed and beamed.

Macy nearly jumped out of her skin when Ghost leaned over and put his lips mere inches from her ear. “Am I crashing your party, babe?”

Her face flamed. Did he know about her Valentine’s pity party? “Crashing my party?” she echoed lamely. “No, not at all—I mean, it’s not a party. Nor is it mine.”

He chuckled. “All right.” Her friends were sending her knowing little smirks.

Yes, maim them.

But she couldn’t deny that it was good to see him, that a part of her had missed him and she hadn’t completely realized it until now. “Are you back for good?” she asked.

He shrugged, pulling his arms back and resting them on the table. “Nana’s doing…okay, considering. She’s settled in the nursing home and my sister lives near there, so I figured I might as well come home and try to get back to normal, at least for a while. I’ll be going up there to visit a lot, though.”

His grandmother, who’d raised him from the time his parents were killed in a car accident when he was six, was in failing health. Macy didn’t know much beyond what Candace had told her about the reason for his absence, but she couldn’t help noticing the set of his mouth seemed a little grimmer than it ever had before. He must’ve been through a lot in the past few months.

“I’m sorry,” she said softly.

He shrugged again, but she wasn’t fooled by his feigned nonchalance. “She’s hanging in there. So how’ve you been?”

“Oh, fine. Great. Working a lot, you know.”

A waitress came by and placed beers in front of him and Brian. Macy’s pulse hadn’t slowed a bit. What was up with that? He was pressed in so tight against her she wondered if he could feel her racing heart, prayed that he couldn’t.

Ghost leaned across the table toward Candace and Brian. “Candace,” he said, and for a moment Macy thought he might actually say something sincere. No such luck. “I really advise against leaving him alone with me again. Two hours away from you and he was coming on to me.” Everyone else at the table broke up in laughter. It only egged him on. “I mean, I know he wants me. He’s made it clear. And I’m growing weak, I tell you. I missed him. If he does it again, I’m gonna give it to him.”

Brian was shaking his head. “God, we missed you,” Candace said.

“Did we?” Brian asked.

Ghost reached over and placed his hand on Candace’s. “Don’t worry, though. We’re not going to shut you out. You’re welcome in our house anytime, sweetheart. I might even share him with you. As long as, you know, I can watch.”

“This is actually pretty hot,” Samantha observed, and Macy could just imagine the sparkle of interest in her eyes.

“You can come too,” Ghost said, earning Sam’s flattered laughter.

“F*ck you, man.” Brian punctuated the words with the corresponding hand gesture, but Macy could tell from his grin he was probably the happiest person at the table to have his friend back.

“I’m trying so hard to resist that, Brian. You damn moody Capricorns. You would only hurt me in the end.” Ghost drew a shaky breath. “But I think…I’m ready to take the chance.”

“You’re gonna have a hell of a fight on your hands,” Candace told him, running her hand over Brian’s shoulders. “This one belongs to me.”

“Yeah. Stake your claim, baby. Save me from him.”

As the banter continued to fly and Macy slowly began to realize it seemed to be just business as usual here, she found herself relaxing. She took a deep breath, distancing herself from the memories of what she’d allowed to happen between her and the guy sitting next to her not long before he left town.

That’s it, get a grip. So what, you were confronted with him when you least expected it. That would throw anyone.

But it shouldn’t. Not her, no way. He was part of a world so separate from her own it would be impossible to bridge the chasm between them. He was heavy metal. She was all country, all the time. He wouldn’t belong at a rodeo, and she wouldn’t belong at one of his wild concerts where they probably sacrificed live chickens or bit the heads off bats onstage.

That was that. Since the accident that had damn near killed her, sensibleness had ruled her world, not impulsiveness. And certainly not her heart or hormones. She was the one in control here, and she liked it that way. If she messed up, she could at least mess up knowing she’d weighed all her options and made the best decision possible.

Even being miserably single on Valentine’s Day wasn’t enough for her to give up that position.

Ghost’s thigh pressing more firmly against hers was cause enough for her to do a quick reassessment.

Sam’s boyfriend joined them soon afterward, and the party was in full swing. Despite everything, she marveled that she had friends who were willing to do this for her—take her out, buy her drinks, try their damnedest to hook her up—at the expense of their own plans. Surely Candace and Brian had way better things to do on their first Valentine’s night than babysit her. Same with Samantha and Mike, even though those two had been together for years.

“It’s damn good to be back with you guys,” Ghost announced, holding up his beer. Bottles clinked as they toasted.

“I’m just damn glad to have you back at the parlor.” Brian grinned, sporting two dimples that belied the image conveyed by all the ink and piercings and longish, unkempt black hair. Unkempt mainly because Candace couldn’t keep her fingers out of it.

“Oh, is that all I am to you? Your f*ckin’ workhorse?”

“Whatever else you are, the fact remains that we’ve been busting ass since you left. And now Connor is gone, so it’s not going to get much easier, but at least it won’t get any worse.”

“I can’t wait to get back at it. But I can’t help you out Saturday.”

Brian’s bottle thunked down. “What?”

“Can’t do it. I need to practice with the guys.”

“But dude. Saturday.”

“I’m picking up what you’re puttin’ down, honey bunch, but they’ve been panicking, and they’re going to end up kicking me out of the band if I can’t make the next gig.”

Macy grinned at the endearment he tossed in. Brian shook his head wearily, sitting back in his booth. “You son of a bitch.”

“Look at him pout. Don’t pout, dude. Ross the boss will get the job done.”

“A helluva lot easier if I had the Ghost with the most at my side.”

“Aw. Is that a proposal? See how he loves me? Candace, you don’t stand a chance.”

“Oh, will you stop? Macy’s going to get jealous.” Candace winked and jumped in her seat as Macy kicked her in the shin.

But Ghost didn’t miss a beat in his exchange with his friend, shaking out his right hand. “I might be a little rusty, Bri. Can I practice on you?”

“Hell no.”

He leaned his shoulder into Macy. “How ’bout you, sweetness?”

“Um, no. No ink for me.”

“Yeah, good luck with that,” Candace said. “She would shriek and run if that needle came anywhere near her.”

“It’s not the needle. It’s the thought of being permanently…marked.” The very idea gave her the heebie-jeebies.

She nearly leaped out of her skin when Ghost’s pinky finger traced the edge of her denim mini under the table, coming dangerously close to her flesh. “Maybe it’s all about who’s doing the marking.”

“No, it’s definitely…” His fingertip grazed the top of her thigh. She tugged the collar of her shirt. “Ahem. Definitely not something I’d be interested in, no matter who’s doing it.”

“But I do it so well.”

Macy narrowed her eyes at him, pouring all the will she had left into her gaze. He did a lot of things well. That didn’t mean she had to let him do them to her. “I know you do. But it’s still not happening.”

His hand left her leg, and he faced forward again, his grin as infuriating as she’d ever seen it. “All right.”

Dammit! When she realized her words hadn’t held a double meaning like his, she hated herself. She hadn’t meant for him to stop touching her.

His long fingers curled around his beer bottle, when they could’ve been on her. She watched in helpless fascination as he lifted it to his mouth…one of the best mouths she’d ever seen. Full, sensuous and defined, yet devastatingly masculine. She could apply that description to every part of him, really.

“Macy!” A familiar voice yanked her from her greedy perusal. Her heart sank as she looked up and saw Jared passing by their table, a big grin on his handsome face that clearly said he’d had a few too many.

Forcing a smile, she gave him a wave she hoped was a good balance between friendly and dismissive. “Oh, hey. Good seeing you.”

“You’d better dance with me before you leave here, girl!” And the crowd swallowed him back up.

Brian and Candace exchanged a glance and although Ghost didn’t comment, she could sense the tension that seeped into his body.

Really, though, what did he care if she danced with someone else? They’d had sex in his car once. Very, very good sex, but still. Big freaking whoop.

She drained her beer and waved for another.

Somewhere in the steady stream of alcohol the waitress—God bless her—kept bringing Macy, she found Ghost’s hand back on her upper thigh. She might have even grabbed it and put it there herself. Who knew? All she cared about was that his palm was big and warm and possessive, and she liked it being on her skin. But damn if she was going to let him get between her legs—

Oh. Crap. He was going there. And she was letting him. The heat coming from her sex wouldn’t allow for anything less. She squirmed in her seat, the tiny motion making her skirt ride up more. His fingertips followed, feathering higher up her leg. He was almost to the edge of her panties, which had gone incredibly damp since—

“Are you all right, Macy? You look a little flushed.”

Just as Macy began to nod quickly, Ghost swigged his beer and jerked his head in her direction. “She looks that way because I have my hand up her skirt.”

He did not just say that. She went ramrod straight and snapped her legs closed as everyone at the table laughed. Candace said, “Oh, you wish.”

All Macy had succeeded in doing was trapping his hand between her thighs.

His thumb stroked across her skin, coaxing her to open to him again. She wanted to. But if he was only going to embarrass her in front of everyone…

She gave the back of his wrist a little warning smack. Beside her, his lip quirked, and he gave her a see what I did there? wink.

For the hundredth time, she thought about how she should stop this. She should. But his fingers curled into her flesh and pulled her leg against the side of his and dammit, she didn’t stop him, couldn’t stop him. Once he had a little room to work with, he slid his hand up, bunching her skirt again.

She killed her drink and ordered another. His pinky finger grazed the silk of her panties, silk he’d find wet and little barrier to the throbbing flesh beneath. Thankfully, the waitress plunked her refreshed drink in front of her, so she had something to hold on to instead of clenching her fists on the tabletop. With the side of his finger, he was drawing tantalizing circles around her aching * through the damp fabric.

The conversation still went on among her friends. Ghost even took part, laughing and wisecracking while her freaking toes curled and she resisted the urge to…bite him. Or grab his head and kiss him wildly. Or fling herself back in the booth and have a heaving orgasm. Or at least help him pull her panties aside so he could sink his fingers into her.

But she knew he couldn’t. Crammed together in the booth, he didn’t have the range of mobility for such a feat without giving them away. She couldn’t let him make her come or—

“I think you should slow down,” Candace said, and it took a moment for Macy to realize she was talking to her.

“What?” she asked, cursing the husky breathlessness of her own voice.

Candace chuckled. “Don’t you think you’ve had enough?” Enough…no, not nearly enough. Her gaze alighted on her empty drink. Shit. She meant alcohol. How many had she had, trying to squelch the heat and keep her hands busy so she didn’t yank Ghost on top of her right in front of everyone?

“Damn, Mace, you do look shitfaced,” Brian observed.

Her brain took stock of her situation. She was breathing erratically and half leaning on Ghost. A trickle of sweat tickled at her hairline. Her lips felt swollen and…numb, and she swept her tongue across them. Not that her friends could tell, but her nipples were hard as pebbles and rasping against the cups of her bra. “I—I need some air.” She turned pleading eyes on her accomplice beside her. His fingers disappeared from between her legs, and it was all she could do not to go after his hand. Return it to where it belonged. She wasn’t drunk; she was in the wildest sexual heat she could remember since…oh, hell. Since the last time he had her this hot.

“I got her,” Ghost said, sliding from the booth and helping her across after him. She tried to fix her skirt and could only hope she did a passable job as she stood up beside him. For a moment, she feared her shaking knees wouldn’t support her, and she leaned against him as the only stable thing in her world.

“Are you all right?” Sam asked, sounded genuinely concerned as she reclaimed her seat. Michael scooted around to sit beside her now that there was free space.

“She’s straight,” Ghost said. “We’ll go outside for a few.”

“Take care of her,” Candace called after them as he led her away from the safety of their booth.

“Oh, I intend to,” he said, for Macy’s ears only.