Текст книги "Shiver : 13 Sexy Tales of Humor and Horror"

Автор книги: Belle Aurora

Соавторы: Penny Reid,Ruth Clampett
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Текущая страница: 20 (всего у книги 39 страниц)

He flinched as Zia gently touched his arm then relaxed as he felt the warmth of her hand seep into his skin. Not sure if it was the soft lighting or the nearness of the woman and the open expression of kindness on her face, but he felt like he could talk to her. Open up and tell her the horrible sadness of the situation.

“I’m sorry,” she said softly, her voice barely above a whisper.

“I’m sorry too. I left the force after that. Decided I wanted to be in charge of my own investigations. I wanted to call the shots and not be at the mercy of someone else’s decisions. And I sure as hell wouldn’t ever again let myself buy in to some crackpot claiming to be a psychic.” He grimaced and put his hand on top of hers. “No offense.”

“None taken. You’re not the first person to take a shot at my profession. And you won’t be the last. Finn, there are frauds in this field, and plenty of them. But there are frauds in lots of professions. There’s always going to be people that take advantage of those in need for their own selfish gain. And there are all different levels of expertise in this field as well. Just like in sports, there are people who know how to throw a football around and then there are professional ball players who get paid a lot of money. But they both consider themselves football players.”

“Saying you can catch a football is a little bit different than claiming you can read people’s minds.”

“I don’t claim to be a mind reader, but I do believe that I can read people. That I am attuned to their feelings. I also use tools that help me. Tarot cards and crystals for healing. And I do believe in ghosts and spirits, and I know that at times, I have the ability to connect to them.”

He scoffed. “You’ve talked to ghosts?”

“Yes.”

“Like who? Ben Franklin? Marilyn Monroe? Elvis? Who are these ghosts you’ve talked to?”

Her eyes took on a sorrowful gaze, and her next words were so soft that Finn had to lean closer to hear them. “My husband, for one.”

He blinked. “I didn’t know you were married.”

“I’m not. Now. But I was. We met in college and fell madly in love. We got married as soon as we graduated. We’d been married about three years and had been up in the mountains to visit his parents for Christmas break. We got a late start home, and by the time we came down the pass, it was dark and a storm had set in. The snow was blinding and the roads were icy and treacherous. We came around a bend and a deer was standing in the middle of the road. My husband swerved to miss it, slid on the ice, and our car went off the side of the road and plummeted partway down the cliff.”

“You could have been killed.”

“I almost was.” Her eyes took on a faraway gaze, as if she were watching the scene in the past. “The windshield shattered as the car crashed through trees, and a branch from a tree stabbed through my shoulder, impaling me to the seat. I couldn’t move and I was losing a lot of blood. My husband was bleeding from a head wound, and I can remember how bright red the blood was against his white shirt. I had this crazy thought that it would be a good shade to paint the trim in our kitchen. We had this whole black-and-white theme going, with red accents. Isn’t that a funny thing to be thinking about? I was dying and yet contemplating what shade of red to paint our kitchen.”

He touched her arm lightly, wanting to offer some kind of support for such a terrible experience. The look of pure pain in her eyes shot through him, as if he were the one who had been impaled. “People do all sorts of things in crisis situations. It’s the brain’s way of helping them to cope.”

She looked at him, her eyes brimming with tears, and the corners of her mouth tipped up a little in a mournful smile. “What helped me cope was the strength of my husband and his unfailing support. He applied pressure to my wound and kept me talking. I can remember clearly the way he encouraged me to hang on and stay with him. He kept talking about these funny memories of our time together, and I can even remember the stupid jokes he told. He was covered in blood, so much blood, but he wouldn’t let me give up. Wouldn’t let me surrender to the pain.

“I don’t know exactly how long we were trapped. Witnesses later said it took the ambulance twenty minutes to get to us, and at least another ten minutes to get me out of the car. I lost consciousness as soon as I heard the sirens and knew help was on the way. The last thing I remember was him holding my hand and telling me to stay. To not give up.”

“He must have loved you very much.”

She nodded, a slight bob of her head. Her next words were choked with emotion. “I woke up in the hospital the next day. I asked the nurses where my husband was and if he was okay. They told me that he had died on impact. That he’d broken his neck in the fall and died instantly.”

His heart stopped at her statement, and his breath caught in his throat. She turned to look at him, really look in his eyes, and he thought his heart could break at the pain evident in them. He didn’t know if he fully believed the story, but he knew she believed it. It was clear that she believed every word. And she wanted him to believe her.

She swiped at the lone tear rolling down her cheek. “I’ve only told that story to a few people. Honestly, I don’t know why I even just told you. I guess I just wanted you to understand. It’s not hocus-pocus nonsense to me. Connecting with the other side is very real to me. And having gone through the pain of losing someone so close, having survived such a tragedy helps me to be able to connect to people, to see their pain and to work with them to try to heal.”

He didn’t know how to react, and couldn’t figure out what to do with his hands. He wanted to touch her. To hold her. To protect her from her pain. To tell her he was sorry, but he couldn’t open his mouth. He didn’t know what to say.

She stared at him. “Well, say something. Don’t just stare at me. Tell me what you’re thinking. What you’re feeling.”

“First of all, I don’t talk about my feelings, and second of all, I don’t know what the hell I’m feeling. I want to wrap you in my arms and protect you and never let you get hurt again. And at the same time, I want to rip your clothes off and kiss you senseless and make you forget you’ve ever had a sad moment in your life.”

She laughed. A laugh choked with tears. “Now that’s a feeling I understand. You drive me insane with your close-mindedness, and I feel like the best choice for me is to walk away from you. But my hands are itching to touch you, and all I want to do is dig into that shell of yours and uncover the man who’s afraid to believe in things he can’t prove.”

“I’m not afraid. I just have a hard time believing it.”

“I know. And I can’t figure out how to feel about that. I like you, but you infuriate me. You make my insides go a little gooey at the same time you get my back up in frustration. As much as I’ve been thinking about kissing you and fantasizing about your hands on me, I’m not sure what I can do about it. How can I be with someone that doesn’t believe in the most important life-changing event of my life?”

Did she just say she’d been fantasizing about his hands on her? Everything else in the room fell away. Everything except this woman, with her cascades of long, dark hair that he was itching to drive his hands through. Everything but her. Her pain-filled eyes and her full lips.

Her scent swirled around him, enveloping him in a cloak of musky tones full of sex and femininity. He heard his throat click as he swallowed. His mouth dry, his words soft and full of want. “I don’t know. How can you?”

She hesitated, only a moment, searching his eyes. He felt like she could see into his very soul as she reached up to touch his cheek. A shiver ran through him as she whispered, “I guess like this.” She leaned forward, and his breath caught at the nearness of her.

He reached for her, and the silky softness of her hair caressed his hand as he slid it around her neck and pulled her closer to him. Her mouth was so close to his. All he had to do was lean a little closer and her lips would be his. He hesitated, savoring the sweet moment of anticipation.

So close, he gently touched her lips. One soft, sweet kiss. A kiss that elicited a low sigh of pleasure that went straight to his gut. His stomach was turning circles, and he ached to dive in and take her, but the moment was too good to rush. Indulging in the decadent promise of what was to come. Just a small taste. A little nibble before the richness of the bite.

He knew this was probably a bad idea. Knew he was just getting caught up in the moment. The stakeout, a gorgeous woman, and cupcakes. What man wouldn’t be turned on?

But he knew it was more. More than a momentary lapse of judgment. This woman had somehow seeped into his soul. With her positive spirit and her easy laugh. And her generous curves. Lord help him, her curves. And he was inches away from touching those curves now. Did he dare?

He was normally so cautious, thinking through every decision, making the wise choice. She lightly licked his bottom lip, and that was it. All rationale disappeared.

He reached for her and pulled her body into his lap, and finally his hands were on her. He feasted on her lips, taking her mouth in ravenous hunger as he filled his hands with her. Touching every inch of her. Caressing and stroking.

She tasted like chocolate and coffee, and he could not stop kissing her. The feel of her hands in his hair and clutching his back almost sent him over the edge with desire. Having her in his lap allowed him to wrap her in his arms and still touch and feel and explore her body.

Dipping his head to her neck, he laid a hot trail of kisses down her throat. Inhaling her scent, he slowed, savoring the softness of her skin as his kisses moved down her neck. She sighed again and arched her back as he brushed his lips against the tops of her breasts.

“You feel so good,” he growled, his voice husky with want.

He could have wept with the ache of wanting her beneath him. He shifted their bodies, holding her against him as he eased her onto the floor, resting her head on one of the pillows. Her long hair spread out across the floor like a silken pool of black liquid, dark and lush.

She looked up at him, her eyes full of desire and vulnerability. Like she was trusting him not to hurt her. Not to break her heart. He pulled back. What if he couldn’t be the man she needed? The man she wanted?

She reached up and ran her fingers along the leather strap of his gun holster. “That was pretty sexy the way you pulled your gun this morning and pushed me behind you to protect me.” Her words were playful, flirty. He could handle playful, but he was terrible at flirting. It made him feel like a dork and that he was always doing it wrong. But she did say she thought he looked sexy.

He shrugged out of the holster and carefully placed the gun on the floor, out of their way. “Unfortunately, my gun’s pretty rusty. It hasn’t been used in a while.”

Her eyes widened, and he could tell she was trying to keep a straight face. The corners of her mouth tipped up. “Was that your attempt at flirting? Because I’m not sure that was your best line.”

Feeling the heat of embarrassment warm his neck, he paused, watching her face, trying to decipher if she was teasing or mocking. Her face broke into a grin, and he relaxed, easing his body down on top of her. “Pretty terrible, huh? I almost went with something about my gun not being the only thing that was loaded, but I knew that would be wrong too.”

She let loose a peal of laughter followed by a snort of giggles, and he smiled down at her. Her laughter was like magic to him, the melodic tones seeping into his soul. He picked up a strand of her hair and rubbed it between his fingers. “Look, Zia, I’m just a simple guy. Not suave or debonair. Just ordinary and probably too jaded. But I like you.”

Her laughter stopped. She blinked up at him, her brown eyes at first round and surprised, then softening with affection. “I like you too.”

“I may not believe in all this magic, but I believe in chemistry and the laws of attraction. And I know that people can have a connection, even when they’ve only known each other a short time. And crisis can make that connection stronger.”

“Do you feel like that? Like you only feel connected to me because of this crisis?”

“No. I feel connected to you because of the way you smile at me. This crisis has nothing to do with the way your laugh makes my stomach feel funny or the way I can’t seem to keep my hands off of you. Or the way my spine tingles when you touch me. That’s chemistry. This crazy feeling that makes me ache to touch you. To kiss you.”

He skimmed her lips with the edge of his thumb, and she gasped. A small catch of her breath as she bit her bottom lip in rapture and he couldn’t take his eyes off her lips. He had to kiss her, to take her.

Passion filled him as he leaned down and kissed her mouth. Kissed her with the ravenous desire of a man stranded in a desert and thirsty for water. His hands roamed her body, seeking to learn every curve. He couldn’t get enough.

He pulled back and stripped off his t-shirt. He liked the way her eyes darkened as she took in his muscled chest. He might be boring, but he still worked out. She pushed up from the floor, and he tugged her shirt over her head, leaving her in only jeans and a black lacy bra.

She lay back on the floor, letting him look at her, giving him his fill of her lush body. Grinning up at him, she squeezed her legs around him and drew his hips tighter to her. “I can tell by the size of your gun that you must like what you see.”

Words failed him. He knew she was teasing, but he could only nod. She really did look like a witch, with her long, dark hair spread out around her and the black lace against her pale skin. In the dim light of the room, her eyes seem to mesmerize him, capture him in her spell. She must have put a spell on him. How else could he be feeling so much, like she affected every one of his senses? How she looked and felt, the sound of her laugh, the way she smelled, the way she tasted – Lord help him, she tasted so damn good.

He leaned down, needing to feel her, to taste her again.

“Oh, Finn,” she whispered, and a soft moan escaped her as he drew her lips into a passionate kiss, and for just one fleeting moment, he believed in magic.

A jagged sunburst scar lay in the dip of her shoulder, and he laid a soft kiss on the scarred tissue. Sliding down her body, he ran his lips down her skin and kissed the soft spot just below her belly button. Her gasp of pleasure was all the encouragement he needed as he flicked open the top button of her jeans. She gripped handfuls of his hair as he slowly unzipped her jeans and ran his tongue along the lacy edge of her panties.

Another moan filled the room, this one low and eerie, and her hand tightened on his hair as she froze. “That wasn’t me,” she whispered. “Please tell me that was you.”

He sat up, one hand automatically reaching for his gun as he pulled her into a protective embrace. “That sure as hell wasn’t me.”

The sound again, this time coming from the other side of the wall; another low moan followed by a soft thump against the wall.

Finn tossed Zia her top and yanked his shirt on. He scanned the room, his senses on high alert, listening for a clue to the source of the sound.

“It sounds like it might be coming from your office,” Zia said, her voice muffled as she pulled her shirt over her head.

Damn shame to cover up that beautiful skin. Focus, Finn. There was a ghost to catch. Wait, make that a goon to catch. Someone was probably tossing his office right now. They’d picked the wrong room to stage their stakeout.

“I’m gonna check it out. Stay here. I’ll be back in a minute.”

She arched an eyebrow at him. “Not on your life, bud. I’m coming with you.”

“Fine.” He sighed. “You better grab your stuff, then. We’re going ghost hunting.”

Chapter Five

Zia followed Finn through the door and into the hallway, mesmerized by the instant switch from passionate lover to steely detective. He held his gun in front of him, his stance alert and ready as he glanced down the hallway, watchful of danger.

She knew she should be looking around as well, but she couldn’t take her eyes off him. Plus, he had such a great butt.

“Are you checking out my ass?” he whispered.

A giggle bubbled in her throat and threatened to escape. “Yes. Guilty as charged.”

“Carry on, then.” He never missed a beat, making the flirty joke without cracking a smile. He really was funny. How did she ever think this man was boring?

He moved a step closer to his door, passing the utility closet that sat between their two offices. Another low moan sounded, and they stopped in their tracks. A strange scraping sound came from behind the closet door, and a chill ran up Zia’s spine.

“I think it’s coming from in there,” she whispered, and pointed her EMF meter at the door. The lights on the meter went crazy, flashing and blinking. “There’s definitely something happening in that closet.”

Finn pushed her behind him, stopping to give her a coy smile, as he must have remembered her earlier comment about how she thought that was sexy.

He turned the knob and yanked the door open. A startled cry came from the closet, and it took her a moment to process the scene. She took in two people on the floor of the closet, a lot of bare skin, various stages of undress, and a slutty nurse sitting on top of what appeared to be a pirate.

“What the hell, dude?” the pirate asked as the slutty nurse giggled and flashed Finn a nice view of her exposed chest. The smell of alcohol and perfume filled the air.

“This is private property. You folks need to move it along.” Finn waved the gun at the couple before clipping it back into his holster.

“Is that gun real?” Dial-a-Nurse asked, letting loose another round of drunken giggles. The gun was more real than the double-Ds she was taking her sweet time putting away.

“Yes, it’s real, and so is the trespassing violation you’re about to get,” Finn said. Zia appreciated the way he averted his eyes, even though the woman was obviously putting on a show for him, the way she was bending and adjusting as she tried to stuff everything back into the too-tight Halloween costume.

“Relax, dude,” the bare-chested pirate said. “It’s Halloween. We’ve been at the party across the street and the door of this building was open. We were just looking for a little privacy.” He gave the woman an exaggerated wink and slapped her on the rear end. “I wasn’t feeling so hot, so this lovely nurse offered to give me a checkup.”

The lovely nurse smiled up at Finn and Zia. “Yeah, we were just having a little fun. Do you two want to join us? We’ve got plenty of pirate rum.” She burst into another round of giggles, and her companion grinned and held up a bottle.

“I think we’re good. You two better get on back to the party now.” Finn held out a hand and hoisted the pirate to his feet. The drunken nurse took a little more hoisting, and she fell against Finn much more than necessary.

Finally the couple made their way across the hall and out the front door.

Zia stepped into the crowded utility room and looked around. The light from the hallway fell into the closet, dimly illuminating the small space. A shiver ran up her back, but all she saw was a shelf of cleaning supplies down one side of the closet, and several mops, brooms, and spare materials leaning against the back wall.

Setting her EMF reader on the shelf, she was surprised to see the lights flickering and flashing, indicating the presence of a spirit.

All thoughts of a ghostly presence left her head, and she sucked in her breath as Finn stepped into the closet next to her. He was so close she could feel his warm breath on her neck as he leaned in and softly spoke next to her ear. “Well, that’s one pirate that’s not getting his booty tonight.”

Nervous giggles bubbled out of her as she laughed at his silly joke. Why did he make her feel so jumpy? She was normally so calm around men, never really letting them get to her. After what happened with her husband, she knew she wouldn’t ever let herself get too close to a man again. The risk of breaking her already fragile heart was too great. That made it easy to keep them at arm’s length.

Her friends had set her up on dates, and she enjoyed getting dressed up and going to dinner or taking in a show. She even enjoyed some harmless flirting, but no one had made her pulse race or her mouth go dry. No one until this supposedly dull private eye who was looking down at her now and staring at her lips. Staring in a way that made her stomach do funny flips and her breath catch in her throat.

She looked up at him and bit her bottom lip.

He groaned and closed his eyes, then leaned his forehead against hers. “It kills me the way you bite your bottom lip like that. It makes your face go all sexy and has me imagining all sorts of things I would like to do to you to get you to make that face some more.”

She swallowed, and her nipples tightened as he leaned closer to her, pressing her back against the wall of the closet. “Yeah? Like what kind of things?”

He leaned down and nuzzled her neck, his breath hot as he ran his lips lightly along her skin. The light growth of whiskers along his chin scraped her neck and sent another shiver down her spine as she imagined those whiskers along the soft, sensitive skin of her inner thigh. His voice was quiet, teasing, as he spoke next to her ear. “You’re the psychic. Aren’t you supposed to already know?”

“Oh, you little brat.” She narrowed her eyes at him, good-naturedly laughing, and pushed gently against his chest. “You’re the private detective. Haven’t you deduced what I’m thinking? Or haven’t I given you enough clues?” She wiggled her hips against his, eliciting another groan of pleasure from him, and he pressed her tighter against the wall.

Where had this brazenly flirtatious vixen come from? She never talked to men like this. But she’d also never been pushed against a closet wall by a hunky detective on Halloween night. Maybe it was the holiday. Or the cycle of the moon. Or maybe it really was magic.

His response was a cross between a growl and a groan as he took her hand from his chest and lifted it above her head. Intertwining her fingers with his, he clasped her hand as he leaned down to kiss her. Easy and slow, taking his time, as if he were savoring the taste of her lips. He lightly raked his teeth along her bottom lip, and she moaned against his mouth.

He let go of her hand and ran his fingers lightly down her arm, along the side of her body, just grazing her breast as he went, and her insides clenched, aching with the need of this man’s touch. His hand traveled down her waist, over her hip, and he lifted her leg up and around him as he clasped her butt.

She pressed her body against him, pulling him closer with her leg and cursing the layers of clothes between them. She longed to have her skin bare against his, and contemplated the idea of getting naked on the floor of the closet.

What was wrong with her? She did not do closets, and she certainly didn’t get naked with men she barely knew. Men who flat out called her a kook and claimed she did hocus-pocus.

But Finn had also said that he liked her smile and that she made his stomach feel funny and that he ached to touch her. Holy Earth Mother. What woman could resist a man who said that he ached to touch her?

And even if her brain wouldn’t admit it, her body was most definitely telling her that she liked this man. Because her body was doing some aching of its own. Aching for his hands to pull her tighter against him, aching for the feel of his calloused palms against her stomach as he slid his fingers under the waistband of her jeans.

She was lost in his kiss, lost in his touch as his hands roamed her body. She arched against him, desperate to get closer, to feel every inch of him against her. She pulled back, her brain trying to make sense of this crazy passion she was feeling.

Her breath was ragged as she clutched him to her. “Finn, what are we doing? This is crazy.”

He tipped her chin up and looked down at her. “Honestly, I have no idea. I know it seems crazy, but it also seems exactly right. Like this stupid closet is exactly where I’m supposed to be. I always think with my head and do the rational thing, and everything about this is irrational and wild, and there’s this crazy side of me that’s wondering if you actually put a spell on me. But the other side of me doesn’t care. My heart tells me you are something special and that being with you is just where I’m supposed to be.”

She couldn’t swallow over the lump that had just formed in her throat. In fact, she couldn’t speak at all. She felt like laughing and crying at the same time. Tension swelled in her chest, and she felt as if her body might actually shatter. She gripped his shoulders as if he was a lifeboat and she was trying not to drown. Wetting her lips, she swallowed and whispered, “I’m scared.”

Finn reached up and slid his hand around her neck. He ran his thumb lightly across her cheek and smiled down at her. “Lady, you scare the hell out of me. My normal MO for Halloween night is watching a football game with a beer and a frozen pizza, and keeping the porch light out because I forgot to buy any stupid candy for the trick-or-treaters. My life is stable, ordinary, even—”

“Boring,” she finished for him with a wry grin.

“Yeah, boring. I do not do this kind of thing. I get nervous kissing a woman goodnight after a first date. But something is different with you. I feel like a horny teenager who can’t keep his hands to himself. I just want to touch you and taste you and feel you against me. Lord help me, it’s taking everything I have not to rip your clothes off and get you naked on this closet floor.”

He shook his head. “And that’s another crazy thing. I never talk like this. I think you must have put a spell on my tongue, because I keep saying out loud all the crazy things that are running through my head.”

He might be teasing her about putting a spell on his tongue, but she knew there had to be real magic in the air. His words were releasing the tight, hard ball in her chest, and she felt herself filling with a lightness she hadn’t known in years.

She knew this was a moment. One of those moments that you just needed to grab and hold on to. Forget that she was in a closet, with its weird shimmers of spiritual presence and concrete floor. Forget that she was supposed to stay strong and keep herself guarded from any kind of emotional attachment.

Forget all of that and just let go. Let go and trust Finn. She could protect her heart, stay closed off and remain alone, or she could give in and take a chance. Give in to the desires of her heart and the bone-deep need she had for this man.

Oh hell, she already had her leg wrapped around his waist – what was she waiting for? She reached up, driving her hands into his hair, and pulled his head down to hers, seizing his lips in an onslaught of fiery kisses. She poured every ounce of passion she was feeling into those kisses, holding nothing back, giving herself to him.

He reached down and lifted her, driving her back against the wall and cupping her bottom as she wrapped both legs tightly around his waist. His hands groped and squeezed, inflaming parts of her that had lain dormant, but now craved his touch. He held her up with one hand while his other skimmed her waist, sliding under her shirt and along her skin.

She arched her back, wanting to feel every part of him against her, and cursed the layers of clothing between them. He effortlessly unsnapped her bra. She gasped as he slid his hand under the lacy fabric and filled it with her breast. Her nipples pebbled into tight buds, aching with need, as he fondled and caressed.

She pulled up his shirt, desperate to touch him and reveling in the hard muscles of his chest. Knowing he had a loaded gun strapped to his shoulder only drove her wilder. He’d probably put the safety on, but not knowing upped the element of danger.

His voice in her ear, low and husky, had her insides clenching with desire. “I want you, Zia. I want you right now. You need to tell me to stop or I’m going to take you right now on the floor of this closet.”

“Don’t stop. Do not stop.” She gulped. “But maybe you should take your gun off.”

He laughed then stepped back, setting her down so he could unstrap the gun holster. “That’s probably a good idea.”

Turning to set it on the shelf, he knocked against the array of brooms and mops and they all fell against them, including a large roll of plastic. Clattering to the floor, the cleaning supplies scattered, and the roll of plastic hit the floor with a dull thud.

It landed next to Zia’s boot, and a scream bubbled to her throat as she looked down and realized the red-smeared plastic encased a dead body.