Bewitching You

chapter Three



The oxygen masks hung above their lifeless heads.

How many?

Sofia walked down the aisle, counting the slumping bodies. Just counting. That was all she could do. They were already dead.

She was able to hold back her sobs until she saw the child. A little girl. Maybe three years old, bent over a woman’s lap. Sofia assumed the woman was her mother. They both had long black hair and pale skin. Blue lips.

God help me.

Air gushed from her lungs and a tight knot formed in her belly. Be strong, she told herself.

She needed to find out more if she wanted to stop this tragedy from happening.

It didn’t happen yet. Not yet. There was still time.

She kept going. Tears slid down her face as she continued counting bodies, some of them blurry, some vivid.

Twenty, twenty-one...

One seat empty. Sofia glanced up and searched for the seat number, but there wasn’t one. Anywhere. Maybe that detail wasn’t important. Her goal was to try to remember every tiny clue. No telling when one item or element would connect with another after she woke. Her mind was clearer then. Not as foggy.

Confused.

Shoot.

She woke from the dream and stared up at the ceiling. Frustrated, she swiped the tears from her cheeks. Why couldn’t she figure it out? How was she to save these people if she didn’t even know who they were or where they were going?

So far, she’d gathered that the aircraft was a small commercial plane. Two seats on each side. How many people were there again?

Thirty-five maybe, plus the crew. She closed her eyes and envisioned it. The pilot had been dead, too, but the plane still flew. The whirring of the engines buzzed in her ears. That was all she was able to remember this time. Next time she’d have to try harder. She had to.

Just like she’d thought Gray had to pull her into his arms and instantly fall in love with her when they met.

Wow. She’d really fooled herself there, hadn’t she?

How was the man she’d met at the restaurant the same person from her dreams? Her stomach turned painfully as she thought of how he’d treated her. Like she was a pest. Intrusive and clumsy, huh? Ergh. She fisted her hand and punched her pillow.

Sure, he was gorgeous. If Sofia hadn’t dreamed of a man of his caliber loving her, she’d never have considered the possibility. But never had she guessed he’d act like a rude bully at their first meeting.

Get out of my head. The whispered, angry words were still fresh in her ear. But what had he meant?

Did he also have the gift?

Impossible. If he knew of their imminent love, he wouldn’t have been cruel.

Not her Gray.

~ * ~

Gray sunk his toes into the cold sand and watched as she walked up the shore toward him, her white top illuminated by the moon. As she got closer, he could see her staring intently, sensually, seeming anything but innocent. Her rosy glossed lips peaked at the corners.

She wanted him…again. The woman was insatiable, and he loved that about her. What man wouldn’t?

The weather was chilly. For the moment, anyway. Soon, he knew he’d be working both of them into a sweat. He spread out a quilted blanket onto the sand and waited.

She stopped in front of him and pulled her hair out of its ponytail. The honey brown locks fell across her slightly freckled shoulders.

Gray set the lamp down in the sand and smiled. “Out here in the open, Sofia?” he asked, teasing her. He’d make love to her in the middle of Time’s Square if that’s what she wanted.

Besides, not a soul could be seen across the foggy beach.

“Do you want me?” She slipped her white top over her head and let it fall to the ground.

Gray took in the sight of her plump breasts, covered by a lacy white bra. “Do you need to ask?” He leaned over and brushed his lips across her soft shoulder and up to her ear. “Always,” he whispered. Goosebumps rose on her skin.

It was easy to love a woman who loved him back tenfold. He planted his hands on the curve of her waist, but before he could gather her body against his, she stepped away.

Gray eyed her curiously. What did she have up her sleeve now?

She laughed softy while she unbuttoned her jeans and slid them down. White lace panties grabbed his attention. She dipped her fingers down the sides of them, but didn’t continue. The woman knew how to tempt him.

“Do you need some help with those?” he asked.

She smiled and shook her head. “Your turn.”

“Ah. I see what we’re doing now.” He’d be more than happy to play along.

He tugged his arms out of his shirt and threw it to the sand. Her eyes filled with hunger as she gaped at his bare torso.

Gray laughed. She did that every time, and he never grew tired of seeing it.

“No laughing.” She smiled sweetly. “Just strip.”

“Okay, okay, Miss Bossy.” He began to unbutton his jeans, but remembered he hadn’t put his boxers back on after the last time they’d made love that morning.

“Don’t stop now.” She kept her eyes on him while she finished peeling down her panties. A small patch of hair arrowed down her mound.

What better incentive, Gray thought, as he pushed his legs out of his jeans. He wanted her indoors, outdoors, on a bed, on an open beach—it didn’t matter. Just as long as he was inside her.

Before he could make another move, she knelt down in front of him, wrapping her hand around his erection.

“Sofia,” he said breathlessly.

Her pink tongue slipped out between those glossy lips and licked his tip.

Gray clenched his eyes shut as she took him in her mouth. Warm, soft and wet. She began to suck, letting her tongue have its way with him.

God, he was going to explode if he didn’t make her stop.

“Wait,” he said with a rough voice. “Wait, Sofia.”

She drew back and looked up at him with glazed eyes. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” He dropped to his knees in front of her. “Nothing at all.” Then he clasped his hands around the back of her neck and crushed her mouth to his.

She accepted his tongue and tangled hers with it, deeply, seductively. Her fingers crawled up his abdomen to his chest, swirling around his muscles.

How did she know how and where to touch him?

How could he make her feel just as good? He reached down her back, unlatched her bra, and pulled the lace from her body. Then he cupped her heavy breasts and teased her nipples with his thumbs.

She moaned into his mouth.

Oh, he could do better than that. He skimmed his hand down her stomach, over her mound, and felt her moist heat. Her body stilled as he rubbed two fingers over her * and inserted them inside her. Back out over her sensitive nub and slowly in again.

“Gray,” she whispered, and dragged her mouth away.

“Where are you going?” He licked the outside of her well-kissed lips. “I’m not done with you yet.”

“No, you certainly aren’t.” She sank down and sprawled back against the blanket.

Gray took in the exquisite view. The light from the lamp and the moon cast shadows along the curves of her cream-colored skin. She ran the back of her hand seductively along her stomach to her breast.

“I’m cold, Gray. Make me warm.” She spread her legs for him, letting him see where he longed to be.

His mind grew fuzzy as he settled himself on top of her. Her hand guided his hardness inside her. She was wet and ready. Without much thought, he plunged forward into her, slick and snug. He fit perfectly, as if she were made for him.

He inched out and slid back in, listening as she hummed pleasure into his ear. Small, deep breaths flowed from her as he worked himself into her depths, like the ocean pushing itself onto the shore. Easy, slow, powerful. Crashing into her, becoming one and then pulling back, over and over.

Their skin grew damp as their bodies slid together in smooth, rhythmic motion. Gray enjoyed the feel of her breasts against his chest, the feel of her fingernails pressing into his backside as he drove into her.

When he reached her innermost wall, that spot, she called out his name and clenched down on him, sending him over the edge.

She moaned as he came hard. Filling her. Claiming her. Possessing her.

“Oh, Gray,” she whispered into his ear, as he continued to pulse inside of her. “I love you.”

~ * ~

Gray punched his hand into the mattress when he woke and found himself lying in his own wet mess again. Alone.

“Goddamn it,” he yelled into the darkness of his bedroom. He leaped up and stripped the sheet from his bed.

The whole situation was embarrassing, humiliating. It tortured him. Made him…f*ck, it made him feel lonely. Not whole. He had enough problems. The loss of his brother apparently hadn’t been the last straw. Now he had this to deal with.

Lord only knew what this was.

The dreams were unpredictable, uncontrollable, and that was the last thing Gray wanted in his life. If he couldn’t control it, then it controlled him.

He wouldn’t stand for that. He trudged down the hallway and pushed open the laundry room door. Three fitted sheets already sat in the washer. He’d need to do a wash if he wanted something to sleep on tonight.

That was something he could manage. A clean sheet. Wash away the reminder of what she did to him. How she brought the dreams on, he didn’t know, but he hoped it would stop before his wedding night.

He could imagine how Rachel would feel about him dreaming of another woman.

Rachel. She was the one, he reminded himself. She was a beautiful woman with a future in law. She was sure to become the ideal woman. Stable. Dependable.

A loyal wife, a dedicated mother, and a confident career woman. He’d have it all. They’d have it all. Then everything would be normal. No surprises to knock a guy off his axis. That’s what he needed.

Gray started the machine and headed back to his bedroom. The clock on his bedside table read four in the morning. No point in attempting to sleep anymore. He needed to get ready for work.

He had a big day ahead of him...a life-defining day.

~ * ~

Rachel set the phone back down. She couldn’t call Gray this early. He wouldn’t be up. Besides, she had no idea what she’d say to him.

“I can’t do this,” she mumbled to herself. “You’re perfect in every way, but I don’t love you?”

Oh, her mother would like that one.

“Sure, I’ll just call off the wedding a month before I’m supposed to walk down the aisle.” See how much respect she’d get from her parents then. Probably enough for them to ask her to pay back every single penny they’d put into this ceremony, she was sure. Money she didn’t have.

They were already paying for her education.

Not that Rachel wanted to end up as a lawyer, but it was their money, their trust in her and what you could do if you put your mind to it.

Those words. They were a mantra that ran through her mind relentlessly. “You could be so much more if you only tried,” she said aloud, as she whipped the duvet off her body.

“I don’t know about that.” Grayson’s voice filled the room. “You look pretty good as is.”

Startled, Rachel stood straight up on the floor beside her bed and scanned the room. The door was shut, as it had been for the past five hours that she’d been tossing and turning. The moonlit room showed no sign of another human being.

“Grayson?”

No one answered. Not a sound. Just an eerie, cool breeze that touched the back of her neck and ran down her arms.

She shivered, and goosebumps erupted over her skin. Where the hell had that come from?

The windows were locked tight and the air conditioning wasn’t running. “Grayson, are you here?”

Her alarm clock sounded off, shrieking its annoying buzz. She reached for it and pressed the snooze button. The green neon numbers blinked on the display.

Had there been a power outage?

“No, baby, it’s not Grayson,” his voice gusted into her ear, along with a chilled wind.

“Who?” Rachel turned quickly to see a man standing right behind her. She jumped back, bumped into the side of her bed, and fell back onto the mattress.

Oh my God. Hayes. It couldn’t be. But there he was, flesh and blood, looking exactly like Grayson’s identical twin brother, with hair to his shoulders, tucked behind his ears. He wore a worn t-shirt and jeans with holes in their knees.

All appropriate attire for a man who knew no boundaries—wanted no boundaries—a man who was always carefree…confident…sexy.

A man who had been dead for over six months.

“No. It’s not you,” Rachel said, more for herself than for the man before her. Hayes’s death had been a complete surprise. A tragic halt to a vibrant, exciting life. Grayson had hated that his brother had been so frivolous, hated that he was a reckless thrill-seeker…and that he’d died in the same fashion.

A thousand miles an hour until I reach the end, baby. He’d joked about his antics, and Rachel had eaten up every ounce of his energy. He’d had more than enough to fill up any room he walked into. More than enough to share with her.

Rachel hated Hayes for the night they’d spent together the weekend before he decided to jump from an airplane with a faulty parachute. The fool had probably never even checked to see if it worked in the first place. He’d loved the adrenaline rush of danger. He’d lived for it.

She supposed that was why she hadn’t pushed him away that night he’d taken her virginity. She’d watched Hayes as he interacted with Grayson, how passionate Hayes was about life. She’d heard the stories of his adventures, and when he’d come to her that weekend while Grayson was away on business, an overwhelming desire had overcome her to feel Hayes’s carefree spirit. To absorb it.

To be his next thrill.

And she had been, if only for a short while.

A smile spread across his face, showing a familiar dimple on his left cheek. “Have you missed me?”

“We buried you.”

“I know. You cried for me.” His smile faded. “Why haven’t you told Gray about us? About our weekend?” He lifted his leg, resting it on the mattress beside her, and reached his hand out to her.

“No. No, no, no.” Rachel inched back away from him. “You cannot possibly be him.” She kept a baseball bat under the other side of the bed. If she could get to it.

“It’s me, Rache. You know it is.”

“Okay, so…” She was almost there. Just keep him busy. “You’re a ghost?”

“Sure, why not? A ghost, an apparition, a spirit, an angel, or waves of energy that so far only you can see. Really interesting, I have to say, that the only person who can see me is the one person I want to see me. I guess that’s the trick.”

Slowly, she slid off the other side of the bed and bent down. No sudden moves.

He followed, crawling onto the bed. “You have no idea how difficult this has been for me.”

“Oh, I can imagine.” Yeah, imagine him in a straightjacket. How was she going to explain to Grayson that a man broke into her apartment, claiming to be Hayes Phillips?

So what if he looked like him, sounded like him, had that same damn dimple? Rachel had seen Hayes lying in that casket. She had cried for him and for their night together. She’d known it was in all probability a one-time deal, but she hadn’t cared. He’d been the first man in her life to push her to her limits and keep on pushing. He’d dared to go there, and she’d rewarded him for it.

The man stopped in the middle of her bed and sat on his knees. “Rachel, you have to tell him about what happened between us. You can’t marry him and let him find out on his wedding night.”

“I don’t know who the hell you are, but this is sick. It’s wrong. You have to leave now.”

“I fell in love with you that night. Did you know that?” He shook his head. “No, you probably didn’t. I guess I forgot to mention that little fact.”

Rachel’s head whirled and pounded and wouldn’t stop rehashing the details of the passion they’d shared. “You’re not Hayes,” she whispered.

“Gray’s not the man for you, Rachel.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.” She felt the cold aluminum bat at her fingertips and grasped the handle. Keeping it clenched tight behind her back, she stood and faced the stranger.

He narrowed his black eyes at her. “What do you have back there? A gun? I’m already dead, sweetheart, remember? A big oops with the parachute and then splat?”

“That’s not even slightly funny. And you can understand that your story is a little hard to believe, right? You don’t look like a ghost. You look like a man who’s sitting on my bed, uninvited. So either I’m dreaming this, or you’re a complete stranger who has broken into my apartment, who I have to protect myself from.”

In a blink, he wasn’t there anymore. Rachel blinked again and then again.

There hadn’t been enough time for him to hide. It was as if he’d simply disappeared. The same chilled breeze swept over her, sweeping her hair back off her shoulders and bristling her skin.

She shook her dizzy head and blew out a breath.

“A baseball bat?” His voice came from behind her.

Startled, Rachel spun around and lifted the bat up to her shoulder, prepared to swing. He stood there, laughing and clapping his hands. And he appeared…well, he appeared blurry. Like a television with a bad signal.

“You’re…you’re not…” She tried to think of the words, but was stunned by what was happening before her very eyes.

“What?” His smile crumbled.

“You’re not all there.”

He looked down at himself and waved a hand through his abdomen. Through his abdomen.

“Holy shit.” She slumped to the mattress. The bat loosened from her shaky grip and landed on the bed behind her.

“This is weird,” he said with a hazy voice. “Listen carefully, okay? This is important. Don’t marry him. You don’t love him. And he sure as hell doesn’t—”

Then he was gone. Just like that.

“Hayes?” Rachel swept a quick glance around the room to see if he’d pulled the invisible act again. “Are you there?”

Nothing. She was alone—she thought so anyway.

What the heck had she seen? Hayes’s ghost? A hallucination?

Oh, God, was she going crazy? She’d managed to put that night behind her, to forget about how Hayes had made love to her, so sweetly and with such adoration. She’d tried hard to forget the week before his death, the guilt of sleeping with him, and the debate in her head of whether she should break it off with Grayson so she could spend her nights with Hayes.

His funeral had decided that for her. Hayes had made the choice to jump out of the airplane. He’d made the choice, and when Grayson asked her to marry him two months later, there was no other answer.

How dare Hayes, hallucination or otherwise, tell her not to marry Grayson? As far as she was concerned, as far as her parents were concerned, a wedding would take place in one month.