Inevitable (9 page)

He wouldn't let her slip. He held on so tightly to her, he was sure he was bruising her wrists, but it was a small price to pay. Inch by inch he pulled her back up to the landing. He crushed her against his chest in a tight embrace.

“That was too close,” he whispered into her hair, which he brushed back from her face so he could look into her green eyes. She was hugging him back just as fiercely. “Are you okay?”

She just nodded. “That was close.”

“Too damn close.”

He pulled her to him and kissed her, hot and deep and open-mouthed. She gasped against his lips before kissing him back. There was no way she wouldn't be able to feel his erection pressing into her, telling her clearly just how damn much he wanted her. His tongue slid against hers and he heard someone groan deep in their throat. He thought it was probably him.

After a moment, he released her, though she kept hold of his arm. Harold waited close by, his face twisted with grief and misery.

“When I get angry, bad things happen,” he said bleakly. “I can't control it. I'm so sorry.”

Ryan's hands curled into fists. “What did you do, Harold?”

“Excuse me?”

“Seventy years ago, or however long ago you died. What did you do that Lorraine would have to forgive you for? What is it that you still hate yourself for doing that keeps you stuck here all alone, all these years later, unable to find the peace you need to move on?”

Harold was silent for a long moment, his face etched in pain and regret and guilt. “I lost so much money gambling—Lorraine begged me to stop, but I couldn't.
I knew if I hit it, we'd be on easy street for the rest of our lives.”

Emma and Ryan exchanged a glance.

“But you didn't,” Ryan said.

His expression shadowed. “No. The bills were mounting up higher and higher every day. It was too much for me—for her. She lost our baby because of the stress.” His expression twisted with pain.

“I'm sorry,” Emma said, and there was a catch of emotion in her voice. Ryan fisted his hands at his sides to keep from drawing her close to him again.

Harold nodded, pain etched into his face. “So I did what any man who'd been driven half mad by the thought that I couldn't support my family would do.”

“You killed yourself,” Ryan guessed.

That earned him a sharp glare. “No. I wanted to give my wife everything she deserved, everything I could never afford for her. So…I stupidly decided to rob a bank right here in Mystic Ridge. I went in with a gun—no bullets. I never wanted to hurt anyone, I just needed cash.”

Emma stayed silent and let Harold tell his story, staying clear of the broken banister. Ryan leaned against the wall next to the mirror behind him. He couldn't get an empathic read on a dead person, but by the look on Harold's face, he was telling the truth as he remembered it.

“Then what happened?” Ryan prompted when Harold went silent.

“Got tens of thousands stuffed in a bag and I headed home to take Lorraine on a long vacation.” The small grin that played at his mouth at the pleasant part of his memory vanished completely. “Lorraine asked me where
I got the money and I lied to her. I told her I'd inherited it and it had just been wired to me. And…she believed me.”

“She loved you,” Emma said.

This statement only made Harold look more distraught. “The cops came for me when she was packing a couple suitcases for us. Lorraine, she—she tried to protect me, stood in front of me and told the cops what I'd told her. That I couldn't have robbed a bank, that it was inheritance money. She got in the way when they pulled the trigger, and then—” His voice broke and he drew in a ragged breath. A silvery tear slipped down his cheek.

Emma inhaled shakily. Ryan glanced at her to see that her eyes were glassy. It was painful, but Ryan knew she had to get the ghost to tell his story, to deal with what was keeping him earthbound for so many years. It was the only way, other than exorcism, to deal with a haunting like this.

“It happened on our anniversary,” Harold said. “She died in my arms. I was so furious that I stormed at the cop with my gun held up and he shot me without hesitating. Both of us dead because of my stupid mistake. Now I'm here, in the hotel that I couldn't keep going—our nest egg. Everything I chose led to pain and death. And every year on our anniversary I feel that pain like it was only yesterday.”

Emma's face had paled. Ryan moved to put his arm around her. It was worth the risk of contact. He still wasn't certain that Harold could control himself. Ghosts held a whole lot more power than even they were aware of, especially when they were distraught.

“Harold,” Emma said after a minute of silence passed between them. “Look at me. Please.”

He raised his gaze to hers and there wasn't anger in his eyes anymore, only sadness.

“Lorraine specifically told me that she forgives you. No matter what happened, she forgives you. And she loves you. She's waited all this time for you to forgive yourself. For you to return to her. But you're delaying her peace and happiness—
your
peace and happiness—because you won't forgive yourself.”

He frowned deeply. “I don't understand.”

“You need to forgive yourself for what you did,” Emma said, raw emotion in her voice. “Forgive yourself and go to her. Don't you see that this day—your anniversary, the day that you died—has power in it? I could feel it the moment I set foot in here. She can't leave where she is because it's not her decision. It's yours.”

Harold looked defeated. “I can't leave this hotel.”

“Have you ever tried?”

His jaw set, he looked down at the floor and shook his head.

“She loves you—that's not something that should just be ignored! Do you still love her?”

“Of course I do.” His voice broke.

“Then go to her,” Emma said firmly. “And stop wasting more precious time.”

Harold glanced at Ryan who still stood warily watching the ghost, barely believing what he'd seen with his own eyes.

Finally, Harold nodded. “I could see our house from the fourth floor. That's why I stayed up there. I had no idea she was waiting for me all this time. I couldn't see her.”

“You didn't want to see her. You were afraid. But it's time for you to gather your courage and go to her.”

Ryan nodded. “She's waiting for you.”

Harold raked a ghostly hand through his hair. “Thank you.”

Then he faded from sight.

Emma let out a shaky sigh and looked at Ryan. She was smiling. “Come on.” She grabbed his hand and pulled him into the room in front of them. They stood by the window and looked across the way toward the restaurant.

“Can you see her?” Emma asked, leaning against Ryan's side.

He squinted at the distance. Yes, he could. Lorraine stood on the veranda of the restaurant—the veranda of the house she'd shared with Harold. A pale silver glow approached her and it solidified into Harold's form. He ran up the stairs and embraced his wife.

Then, only a few moments later, they both disappeared in a soft flash of light.

“So what does that mean?” Ryan asked. “They found their peace? They've moved on?”

Emma didn't answer. It was dark in the room, the lights had stopped flickering. She stared at his face.

“What's wrong?” he asked.

“It makes you think, doesn't it? About wasting time worrying so damn much about what's right and what's wrong? Sometimes we just need a bit of a reminder, don't we?”

“What do you mean?”

She slid her hands over his shoulders and up into his hair. Thanks to their proximity, the lust potion was working its special kind of magic. He knew that. He didn't pull away from her.

“You saved me,” she whispered.

“Of course I did. I couldn't let you fall.”

She laughed softly. “I think it's way too late for that.”

“Emma—”

“I need you, Ryan. I want you. I don't care about anything else.”

She was saying everything he wanted to hear, everything that made his heart swell so large it felt as if it might burst right out of his chest. Emma's voice, her scent—vanilla and roses—affected him like a drug. He was hard for her and the desire he heard in her words was matched by the desire he felt for her. “The lust potion, it's hard to ignore, I know…but…”

Then Emma kissed him and nothing else mattered.

T
HERE WAS NOTHING SHE WANTED
more than this. More than Ryan. She didn't know why she'd tried to fight it so much before.

He was basically perfect—funny, sexy, warm. There was just that one little thing that kept her from giving in to her feelings for him.

His damn lies.

But everybody lied from time to time. She wasn't sure if it was worth worrying about as much as she always did. She worried too much for her own good.

Ryan tasted as amazing as he had the other night. It was a kiss that turned her liquid and hot inside. She knew he felt the same for her. She'd felt it earlier—his cock was thick and hard as it pressed almost painfully against her stomach. He wanted her.

Which was a very good thing, because she's never been this turned on in her entire life.

“You sure about this?” he whispered against her lips.

“About us being together in a dusty old hotel room?”

“Surprisingly not as dusty as I would have guessed.”

“These rooms were sealed up pretty well.”

“Obviously, this was meant to happen then.” He kissed her again and his hands moved up to slide over her breasts. He groaned. “You are so gorgeous.”

She laughed a little. “Sure,
now
you think it. When we were partners—”

“When we were partners I could barely keep my hands off of you. I've always wanted you, Em.”

An unwelcome thought strayed too close to ignore. “What about Charlotte?”

“Charlotte asked me out. I said yes. I wanted you, but you were my partner and my friend and I didn't want to…” He shook his head. “I didn't want to mess that up. My relationships have never lasted all that long before. It was important to me not to jeopardize what we already had. Besides, partners aren't supposed to sleep together.”

“Others have broken that rule.”

“Now I know.” His hands slid down to curl around the curve of her ass. “If you only knew how many cold showers I had to take when we worked together…”

She couldn't help but smile. He'd wanted her like she'd wanted him. It was what she'd always needed to hear.

The longer she touched him, that he touched her, the more out of control she felt. The more she needed to feel his skin against hers. “Forget about the past. I need you naked right now, Ryan.”

He swore under his breath. “And then what do you need?”

She raised an eyebrow. “You want me to tell you?”

“You're the writer. Yeah, tell me, Em. Tell me what you want me to do to you.”

An electric thrill went through her. “I never intended to become a writer. But I had so many fantasies—I had to get them down on paper. It just happened.”

“It doesn't matter. It happened. So tell me what you want.”

“You already read my book, so that's cheating. You know about my fantasies. Why don't you tell me what
you
want?”

His gaze burned into hers. “I want to take off your clothes slowly, one piece at a time. Then I need to see you naked and spread across that bed.”

As he spoke the words, he unbuttoned her blouse carefully, although she noticed his hands were trembling. He peeled the silk off her shoulders and let it fall softly to the floor, leaving her standing there in a black satin push up bra and black skirt.

“Can I help?” she asked breathlessly.

He grinned. “I think I can handle it.”

His hands moved to the small of her back and he slid the zipper down, then skimmed the skirt over her hips, letting it fall to the ground as well.

His gaze raked her, but he didn't touch her. Not yet. Her skin felt flushed.

“Now what?” she asked.

“Now…” He drew closer and slid a finger under the strap of her bra, pulling it down so just the pale pink edge of her nipple was exposed. His careful approach was driving her insane with the need to feel his hands on her. Her body ached to be touched, stroked, caressed. But Ryan seemed to be in no hurry as he turned his attention to the other strap, before reaching around to unhook the bra. It also fell to the floor.

Desire darkened his gaze. He leaned over and swept his tongue over her right nipple, cupping her left breast in his hand. An involuntary moan escaped her lips as he sucked on her aching nipples, and a surge of molten-hot
lust shot directly to her sex. She felt a frantic need to have him between her legs.

Emma struggled to breathe. “You're not really giving a good narration of your intentions.”

“Sometimes actions speak louder than words.” He grinned at her, then directed her backward toward the bed. She sat down on the edge of it and looked up at him. “Lie back, Em.”

She did as he asked. The bed felt soft and smelled clean, not musty. She inhaled sharply when Ryan sat down next to where she lay and slid his hand along her body, coming to rest just above her panties. He teased the elastic waist band and she squirmed against the bed spread, raising her hips up to meet his heated touch.

“I told you the Desidero potion was powerful stuff.” His voice was raspy.

“It is.” She couldn't think about much more than what his fingers were doing. “Touch me, Ryan.”

“I am touching you.”

She glared up at him. “You're not playing fair.”

“I asked you to tell me what you wanted, but you didn't. So…”

“I can tell you.”

“Then do so.”

“Lower.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Lower? Lower what?”

She grabbed hold of his hand and moved it down between her legs. The press of his fingers over her clit, even through a thin layer of fabric, was enough to make her arch up off the bed.

Ryan whispered in her ear. “Oh, Em. You're so damn hot you're going to burn me. But I want closer to the flame.”

She almost smiled, but the expression was difficult to
pull off when waves of pleasure were washing over her. “Listen to you. I knew you had a literary bone in your body.”

But she stopped talking, stopped thinking, when he slid his hand under the edge of fabric to slide against the slickness of her sex without any barriers between them.

“Oh, Ryan…yes—” Although it showed an utter lack of control on her part, she couldn't help it. Only a few brushes of his fingers against her were enough to make her raggedly cry out his name as the waves of her orgasm crashed over her.

It seemed to be enough to shatter his control as well.

He pulled her panties off, leaving her completely naked before him. He got to his knees on the bed and undid his shirt without taking his gaze away from her.

“What do you want, Em?” he asked, an edge of desperation in his words, almost as if he was fighting to maintain control over himself.

The thought excited her.

“You,” she breathed. “I want you.”

“Specific. Be specific.”

“I want you inside of me.”

“What inside of you?”

“Your cock.”

“Emma…more…”

She glared at him, frustrated that he was making her talk instead of feel. Intense lust clouded her mind. “I want to feel your cock sliding in and out of me.”

His expression darkened. “That's more like it.”

“I…can't wait, Ryan. Please…the potion…” Her skin felt like it was on fire. She reached for him, sliding her hands over his chest and down over the hard ridges of his
abdomen. That he was still dressed and she was naked made her feel wanton and seductive.

“Is it only the potion, Em?” he whispered.

She stroked his erection that tented his jeans before unbuttoning and unzipping him, pulling his jeans down over his hips so his cock stood out hard and long. She remembered how foggy her head had felt when she'd knelt in front of him in Xavier Franklin's library and taken him in her mouth. She'd been running on pure adrenalin and lust, not stopping long enough to give her actions much thought.

Tonight she felt more in control of her body, of her needs. The potion's effects were still driving her more than they might another night, swept away as she was by the need she felt for this beautiful man who drove her crazy in more ways than one, but she sensed that they were just amplifying a need that was already there, waiting. After all, she'd always wanted him, since the first moment she'd seen him. It had been only a fantasy then.

But this was no fantasy. It wasn't a chapter out of her book. This was real. Every sense she had—not including the sixth one—was focused entirely on Ryan, how good he smelled, tasted and felt, the sound of his moan as she wrapped her fingers around his length and began to stroke him. Knowing that he wanted her as much as she wanted him was so exciting. It made her happy, as if a small inner light that she hadn't been aware of, one which had been dark ever since Ryan had left Mystic Ridge, had been turned back on. Like the lights in the hotel that had flickered when Harold was here…Emma's inner light had been struggling to stay on. She just hadn't known why.

It was because she'd missed Ryan. She wanted him, she needed him, she…

She felt so much more than that. But that room was still dark and scary and she wasn't quite ready to shine the light on any deeper emotions just yet.

“Did you ask me a question?” she asked.

“I…” His forehead was creased. “I'm finding it very difficult to think straight at the moment.”

“It's just a little lust. We have to give in to it,” she said without releasing her hold on him. His chest was bare, with slabs of muscle. She knew he worked out at the gym. It showed. There wasn't an ounce of fat on him.

“Is that all this is?” he asked.

She watched him carefully. “Does there need to be more?”

His gaze sought hers. “I don't know.”

“I don't want to think about anything other than this moment, okay? I don't want anything to ruin this.”

A smile played at his lips. “As you wish.” Then he squeezed his eyes shut as she continued to touch him. “Em, you're driving me crazy.”

He wrapped his hand around her wrist and pulled her away from him, then kicked his jeans off the rest of the way. Pushing her back onto the bed, he trapped her wrists with one of his hands and moved them above her head so she was stretched out naked on the bed for him just as he wanted.

It was dark in the room, the full moon outside the window bathing them in silver and shadows.

“So beautiful,” he whispered. His hand slid down her body, skimming her breasts, her stomach, until he was stroking her between her legs, the slick folds of her sex. Her breath came in short gasps and her legs uncon
sciously parted wider for him. “If you knew how many times I'd dreamed about this…”

She moaned as he slid his index finger inside of her, and slowly began pumping it in and out before adding a second finger.

“Ryan—” His name escaped from her throat, hoarse and filled with need. “Please, I want you…”

He brought his mouth down to brush against her ear. “Are you going to admit that the hero of your novel is based on me?”

The rapid movement of his fingers made it hard for her to concentrate on anything but pure sensation. He moved faster and deeper and another orgasm skittered just at the edge of her control.

She struggled to breathe normally. “Ryan…”

“Tell me, Em.” There was a raw edge to his voice. “Tell me that I'm not the only one who's fantasized about this. About you. Tell me that you've wanted me, that you've missed me, that you never stopped aching for me.”

“Yes,” she moaned. “It's true. I want you. I've always wanted you, Ryan.”

She felt him press his weight down on top of her, brushing his thick erection against her swollen sex. Just the feel of his cock against her clit was enough to make her climax again. She cried out and grabbed his shoulders, arching up against him.

He swore gutturally. “Too much… I can't wait…”

He reached over the side of the bed, grabbed his jeans, rooted in his wallet and pulled out a condom, which he tore open with his teeth and quickly sheathed himself with. The next moment she felt the tip of his erection push against her.

“I wanted to do this slowly, but I don't think that's going to be possible…” His voice trailed off.

She captured his face between her hands, kissing him with every ounce of passion she felt for him. “Slow, not necessary. Fast is good. Very good.”

He grinned, but it looked labored. “I need you so badly…”

Emma leaned back onto the bed again, her hands digging into his bare hips as he settled between her thighs. He fought for some sort of control. Maybe on another day he'd win that battle, but with the lust potion working against him, he had no chance.

She gasped as he filled her completely with one deep thrust, her fingernails biting into his back. He didn't move. He just lay there on top of her, sheathed inside of her as she got used to the aching pleasure of feeling him stretching her body to accommodate his length and width.

“Emma…” he whispered, then inhaled sharply. “You feel so good.”

She almost smiled at him using her full name. She liked how it sounded on his lips, half hidden by the dark lust in his voice.

“It's better,” she whispered after he brushed his lips against hers.

He looked down at her, frowning. “What is?”

“This. It's better than my book. Better than my fantasies. You…inside me…it's better than I ever could have imagined.”

“Damn.” His frown deepened. “And here I was trying not to completely lose my mind. You're not making it very easy for me.”

He kissed her, hard and deep and hot and wet, and his
hips began to move against hers. The slow, deep thrust of his cock inside of her commanded all of her attention, all of her emotion. There wasn't time to think about anything else, worry about anything else.

Was it only because of a lust potion? She'd wanted him, she'd always wanted him, but this irresistible pull she felt toward Ryan that brought them together tonight, in a formerly haunted hotel…would she have even been here if it hadn't been for the potion?