Read Haunted on Bourbon Street Online

Authors: Deanna Chase

Tags: #lampwork, #Fantasy Romance, #empath, #bead maker, #bourbon street, #New Orleans, #Paranormal, #Ghost, #Romance, #Fantasy

Haunted on Bourbon Street (17 page)

BOOK: Haunted on Bourbon Street
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His control, already pushed to the brink, waivered and pressed against my consciousness. A second later it shattered. I quickly pushed my tank over my head, freeing my arms to wrap around him as his mouth clasped on my breast, sucking painfully, deliciously through the thin lace until I cried out.

“My turn,” I gasped and pulled on the button of his jeans, rushing to push them over his hips. He tore his attention away from my nipple long enough to divest himself of his shirt and kick the jeans aside.

“No fair,” I whispered as his teeth scraped my other breast.

“Hmm?” he mumbled into my flesh.

“I didn’t get to—oh!” His hand had slid its way between my thighs, pushing past the satin fabric. One long finger massaged the slick flesh, gliding into my opening. My knees buckled.

He caught me as a chuckle rippled from his satisfied half-smile. It took him just a moment to free us both of the rest of our garments, and when he laid me back on the bed our bodies melded together in the inferno, pressing, needing, clawing. Desperate to feel his silky flesh inside me, I opened to him, begging with my body to be consumed.

“Not yet.” He pulled back, his body trembling with effort. “Not yet.”

Slowing the pace, he inched his way down my flesh, lips brushing and nipping, until finally he reached my center. His tongue, hot and greedy, sent ripples crashing through me. I whimpered in approval and felt his pleasure wrap around me. Every sensation, touch and emotion intensified. Seconds later his fingers plunged into me. I gasped, clenched the cool sheets, lost in the tide until ripples exploded, electrifying every inch of my being.

Moments went by as I lost myself in the pleasure-filled haze of my orgasm. Then suddenly, I was brought abruptly back with the shock of Kane’s unyielding passion to take me. Now. Poised above me, his hands grasping mine, our eyes locked. I lifted my hips in answer.

His eyes never left mine as he reached for a condom. When he entered me, slowly, he relished in the sensation. Locked in his energy, I savored his pleasure of each new shock as we inched together until our hips fused as one. We held still for a long moment. Then our energies merged and I no longer knew where I started and he stopped.

Our bodies moved in rhythm, picking up the pace, faster, higher, deeper. The tension built in hot, urgent waves spreading to my limbs. I cried out with each thrust until suddenly my body spasmed. With a strangled moan, he buried himself in me. I wrapped myself tightly around him, letting the explosion take us together.

Some time later, lying snuggled in the crook of Kane’s arm, my body liquid and tranquil, I kissed his chest lightly. A small tremor ran through his body, and suddenly my soul was wrapped in tenderness and a fierce emotion I could only describe as love. The emotional energy was Kane’s. I felt intrusive and self-conscious all of a sudden and glanced up to find him gazing at me, intent and thoughtful.

“What?” I whispered.

“You feel it, don’t you?”

A chill that had nothing to do with the air-conditioning rippled through me. Had he sensed my ability? Sadness settled in my chest. I wasn’t ready to lose him. I’d bared too much. Trying hard to keep it light, I nipped his lower lip and replied, “The magic?”

“Yes, there’s magic.” He kissed my temple and ran his hand the length of my arm. “I’ve known that since I first met you, but I don’t think you have.”

Relief replaced my fears and I smiled. “I may not have known it, but I’ve certainly felt it.” I demonstrated my feelings by pressing into him as my hand roamed lower, wrapping around his silky shaft, already firming to my touch. He let out a small, strangled moan and pulled me on top of him.

“If you keep that up, you’re likely to kill me,” he said, deftly putting on another condom then sliding into me.

“If you keep that up, I may never leave.”

His hands found my hips, holding me to him as he lifted his lips to mine. “Deal.”

When we’d had our fill of each other, we lay content and motionless in each other’s arms. I closed my eyes, listening to Kane’s breath steadily deepen as he fell effortlessly into sleep. Sighing softly, I snuggled beside him and let the night take me.

 

Chapter 11

Intruding anger slammed into me. An intense sense of betrayal sent an arrow of pain straight through my heart. I gasped, struggling to breathe. Jealousy filled my being, joined by disbelief and shock. Mr. Sexy stood in front of me, shaking with fury, tears of disappointment in his eyes. A cry ripped from my throat as white-hot splinters of fire shot through my belly, shattering my soul.

“Jade! Jade, wake up. Come on baby, wake up.”

The voice was far away and muted. Through the blur of sleep-filled eyes, my brain registered someone hovering over me. I cringed, curling into myself.

“There you are,” he said, his voice tight.

“Kane,” I said softly.

“It’s all right now, just a dream. It was just a dream.” He gathered me to him.

Still full of pain, the tears flowed hot and steady, turning into racking sobs. Kane held me for a long time, murmuring, “I’m here. You’re safe.”

I concentrated on those strong arms encircling me and held on until the tears subsided and the raw, stabbing pain in my soul eased to a dull ache. Snuggling closer, I pressed my cheek to his chest and whispered, ‘Thank you.” Sniffling, I added, “I’m sorry.”

Kane handed me a tissue from the box on the nightstand, while he stroked my back. “Sorry for what?”

“This.” I waved a hand around my face. “Not a great way to end the night.” I pulled away, suddenly self-conscious, and wrapped myself in the sheet.

“Morning, you mean.” He nodded toward the pre-dawn light filtering through the open window.

“Oh.”

Kane leaned in and tilted my chin up. Catching my eye, he gave me a small smile. “This isn’t how we’re ending the morning. Go ahead and take a shower. I’ll make us some breakfast.” He kissed my nose lightly, pulled on his jeans, and wandered out of the room.

I let out the breath I’d been holding and fell back onto the bed. What kind of a woman was terrified and reduced to tears by a dream? God, I was an idiot. Emotionally empty and physically battered, I swung my legs over the side of the bed and hobbled off to the bathroom, careful of my still-sore ankle.

Scrubbed and pink from the shower, I made my way from the bedroom to the kitchen. I spotted Kane sitting in the breakfast nook at the back of the house. A full wall of windows and French doors led out into a lush courtyard. I stopped at the open doors, taking in the soft morning breeze and vibrant colors. Orange honeysuckle covered one wall, and the large red blossoms of a hibiscus bush bloomed just outside the door.

Kane came up behind me and rested a hand on my shoulder. I leaned into him as his arms came around my waist. Comforted by his touch, I let my mind go blank and willed my soul to soak up his energy. He projected a steady calm, but I could feel it masking nervousness and maybe a bit of weariness. Well, who could blame him? My mind clamped down on the emotional radar. I was intruding and didn’t want to know what else he was feeling.

“You should eat before it gets cold. I made omelets.” Kane stepped back and pulled out a chair for me.

“You did?” I looked at the table for the first time. It was set with a pale yellow tablecloth and a slender vase in the middle, holding pink and white stargazer lilies. “Are those from your courtyard?”

He nodded and settled into the chair next to me.

“They’re gorgeous. Your place is wonderful.” And I meant it.

The ceilings were at least ten feet high with crown molding. All the rooms except the bathroom and kitchen had original, wide-planked pine floors, recently resurfaced and gleaming in the morning sun. The nook looked like a picture I’d once seen in an architectural magazine. A bay window was on the left outside wall, complete with a window seat. To the right an adjoining sun room, separated by a double-opening archway, was furnished with indoor white wicker, lots of green plants and a vibrant painting of the French Quarter. I could happily make that one room my home.

“This is delicious,” I mumbled after the first bite. My omelet was full of fresh tomatoes, mushrooms, chives, avocado and swiss cheese—just the way I like it. “You remembered.”

Kane winked and poured me a cup of coffee from the carafe on the table.

“Thank you,” I said after taking a sip. “Everything is wonderful.”

“You’re welcome.” As he gazed at me, his smile vanished, and he suddenly became very interested in pushing the eggs around on his plate.

What happened? Was he having second thoughts? Who wouldn’t after my emotional outburst? I suppressed a sigh and shoved a forkful of omelet in my mouth.

“Jade.” Kane brought both arms down on the table and turned to look me dead in the eye. His determined expression caused me to pause mid-bite. “Who’s the man in your dreams?”

I choked. “What?”

“The one you dreamed of last night. Usually powerful dreams like that feature people you know.”

“What makes you think I was dreaming of a man?”

Agitation radiated off him, ripping holes in my emotional armor. “Let’s not play this game. I know because I saw him.”

“What? You saw my ghost?”

His eyes went wide, surprised, and he straightened. “The ghost? The one Ian’s been hunting? He’s the one you’ve been dreaming about?”

I set the coffee cup down, furrowed my eyebrows and asked, “How exactly did you know about my dreams?” Had he spoken to Ian?

He didn’t say anything, his face hard as he stared me down.

“Ian told you?”

He shook his head and frowned. “You told Ian?”

“He’s the ghost hunter. Of course I told him. If it wasn’t Ian, then who told you?” No one else knew.

He blew out a breath, and pushed his uneaten breakfast away. “You did.”

“What! No I didn’t.” I knew without a doubt we hadn’t had that conversation. “I certainly would remember—”

Kane held a hand up. “You told me in your dreams.”

I gaped, too stunned to talk.

“I have something to tell you,” he continued, focusing on something over my shoulder.

“Clearly.” My voice held a slight chill.

He raised his determined eyes to mine and held the intent stare for a long moment. I was sure he was searching for my soul. “Have you heard of dreamwalking?”

“Yes, that’s when you travel in your dreams, right?” Gwen’s best friend Annabelle, back in Idaho, swore she traveled all over the world in her dreams. Her descriptions and tales were so vivid and entertaining, it was easy to believe it was possible.

“Yes, for some people. My dreamwalking is a bit different.”

Torn between curiosity and aggravation, I pushed the food around on my plate until, finally, curiosity won out. “Okay, tell me about
your
dreamwalking.”

“When I was little, I had very vivid dreams about people I knew.” He shook his head, rose from the chair, and started pacing the kitchen. “Not about people, really, but more like dreams from their point of view. They were always people I was close to, so I figured it was natural to dream of them and their emotions.” He paused. “As I got older the dreams changed, became more intense, and I was able to watch from the person’s perspective. Or I could interact in the dream, like a character in a movie.”

A slow ball of uneasiness grew in the pit of my stomach. I leaned back in the chair, picked up the coffee, set it back down, then asked in a whisper, “You dreamwalk my dreams?”

He took a deep breath and nodded.

“Oh, God.” I stood up, turned and strode out into the courtyard. I walked to the far end, stopping at a fountain with a stone fleur-de-lis spouting water in a steady stream. Kane’s footsteps scraped on the bricks behind me, but he didn’t say anything.

My face burned, no doubt the color crimson. Unwilling to face him, I continued to stare into the clear pool in the fountain basin, wishing the ground would open up and swallow me whole.

“I’m sorry, Jade,” he said softly. “I know it’s an intrusion, and I’m sorry for it. But I—”

My temper broke, and I turned on him. “Stop. Just stop. How could you? Do you have any idea of how violated I feel right now?”

His eyes squinted as he frowned. “I can imagine. But I thought you felt it.”

“Felt it? Of course I felt it. You were making love to me in my dreams. It wasn’t just me dreaming it.
You
were there? Participating?” The last of my words were barely audible as my voice broke. My own anger and humiliation pressed a heavy weight on my heart.

His eyes turned sad and a small tinge of pain reached me. “Something like that.”

Pushing past him, I grabbed my purse from the counter, ran through the house and out the front door.

The tears gathered quickly. Blinking hard, I tried to hold them back and disappeared around the nearest corner. I prayed he wouldn’t follow me. As I hurried down the street, I realized unless I went to Kat’s place, he would be able to find me. And I couldn’t go to Kat’s with Dan there. “Damn!”

Nowhere to go but home. Maybe I could just lock the door and pretend I didn’t exist.

BOOK: Haunted on Bourbon Street
9.32Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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