Her lips parted beneath his. She was aware of everything about him in that moment: his height, the lean musculature of his physique, and most of all, the fact that everything about him was vital and vibrant and male. She’d almost forgotten what it was like to want someone so badly. She didn’t want to question the fervor with which she wanted him. Was he simply there, eliciting desire as naturally as he breathed, an answer to the natural needs she hadn’t even acknowledged lately? Or did she—God forbid—care about him?
She refused to think about that as she felt the pressure of his lips and the force of his body, and the very air around her seemed to churn with sexuality. They fell back on the bed, and longing erupted into urgency.
He caressed her cheeks as his kiss deepened, his tongue delved. The pressure of his body against hers was excruciatingly sweet. As his hands moved over her, she returned the strokes, fingers dancing over his shoulders, along his back, down his spine. She began to move against him as if they were one organism, undulating together.
He wore nothing but the cotton pajama pants, and it was easy for her to shove them away. Her nightshirt disappeared over her head. The slim lace thong panties she wore became part of their sex play as his fingers moved over the waistband while his kiss moved down the length of her body until it met the skimpy fabric.
And then she hesitated, sanity returning.
“What is it?” he asked.
What had she been thinking?
The answer was that she hadn’t been thinking. She’d been wanting.
“I don’t usually do this. I mean, frankly...I’ve never done this. I’m not...oh, this is so awkward. I’m not prepared.”
He stroked her face. “I can be,” he told her. He kissed her lips very gently. “If it’s what you want.”
“I...yes, please,” she whispered.
She felt ridiculously bereft when he was gone, but he was back in seconds.
“I’m glad that you’ve, uh, done this more often than I have,” she admitted, blushing.
He smiled. “Not often. But probably once or twice more than never,” he said. He touched her face again, then drew her into his arms and pulled her closer to him.
And awkward was over.
He was the ultimate lover, knowing exactly how and where to tease. She longed to return his every touch, to taste and feel and breathe him. And there was something about the night that made each slight brush of fingers, lips or tongues more sensual and provocative than anything she had ever known. Yet it couldn’t go on, and in moments he had thrust into her, leaving her wanting nothing more than every stroke that filled her and brought the night to life and seemed to clear the world of everything except for the man himself. Their loving was wet, hot and intimate, and yet as clean as a sea breeze sweeping away everything except the sweet pleasure of the moment. She climaxed with a spasm of mind-shattering force, feeling as if the world itself held still.
He eased himself to her side, still holding her. For a long while he was silent. She certainly had no words. And then he spoke.
“Why couldn’t we have met at some local hangout over a few beers?” he asked.
Somehow his words were just right. They made her smile. “Rather than meeting over the dead,” she murmured.
“I should go,” he said, after another long silence.
“Why?”
“You want me to stay?”
“I don’t see why you should leave.”
He rose above her for a moment, watching her. A rueful smile curved his lips. “I do want to stay close. It’s important when you’re protecting someone, you know.”
“Close works for me,” she assured him.
He pulled her tight against him. Sex had been...magnificent. Better than anything she remembered. Having him stay there with her...
She didn’t think she was a coward. She’d run a business alone for years, and she lived with resident ghosts. But she had to admit to herself that this situation terrified her.
Anyone, at any time, might try to kill her.
But with him beside her...
“I’m glad you’re here,” she admitted.
“You’re glad I’m here as a shield—or just glad I’m here?”
“Both,” she admitted.
She was amazed at how quickly she fell asleep.
And she was equally amazed, later on, at how quickly just turning against him aroused them both.
The second time was even better. More time to play, to re-explore territory they already knew. They reveled in the subtle touch of fingertips whispering down skin. Deeper, longer, more intimate kisses. And sex so amazing it was as if it had never existed before.
And no question, this time, as to whether he should leave...
She was deeply asleep when she sensed a presence. Looking up, she blinked against the early morning light and saw Melody peeking through the door. Literally. She could only see part of Melody; the rest of her astral form remained outside in the hall.
“Hannah,” the ghost said.
Hannah instantly felt Dallas stir at her side. “Melody,” she groaned. “Please, unless we can save a life this very instant...”
“I am so sorry. I did not know he was here, but they are downstairs.”
“Who’s downstairs?”
“Jose Rodriguez and Yerby Catalano.”
“We’ll be down in five,” Dallas said. Heedless of the ghost, he was already swinging his legs out of bed.
“My, my,” Melody murmured.
Hannah had never imagined that a ghost could blush, but Melody did, then disappeared completely.