Kiss And Dwell (11 page)

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Authors: Kelley St. John

Tags: #Sexth Sense

BOOK: Kiss And Dwell
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She flipped over in the bed, pounded both fists against the pillow and wished
this damn night would end. Ryan
Chappelle
was pleasing a female right now, and
it wasn

t her. Why hadn

t she called him sooner?

Frustrated beyond measure, she flung her hand toward the top drawer of her
nightstand and yanked it open. Then she withdrew the vibrator that typically

got her there

and grasped it tightly within her hand.


I know these batteries are good. This thing better work.

She hissed the words
toward the ceiling, just in case Adeline
Vicknair
had taken part in making
Monique

s night even worse. Why was her grandmother picking on her, anyway?

Come on, baby.

Monique flipped the switch then nearly cheered when it buzzed
to life.


Come on, baby?

Ryan repeated, stepping from the shadows.

Baby?

Lightning spilled through the window and placed his massive body in silhouette
.

The watery glass behind him gave him an eerie aura, making his ghostly glow blur
around the edges. He looked, in a word, magnificent.

Magnificent…and wet.


Where have you been?

she asked, edging up in the bed to examine the small
puddle generating on the floor around his dripping tuxedo. And to think, she

d
been imagining him all wet all night, and here he was. She switched off the
buzzing vibrator. No need for imitations; she had the real thing.

Tall, dark and dripping.


How did you get so wet?


I was about to leave, then I heard your tarp rip. Sounded like thunder, but
with more punch.

He shrugged.

So I decided to stick around a while and fix it
.

Damn nearly fell off the roof. I have to be careful, you know. Wouldn

t want to
kill myself.

He chuckled low, then pushed his hand up his forehead to smooth
back damp, dark waves.

Monique wanted to touch those curls, wanted to know if they were soft and silky,
or coarse and springy. Would her fingers pass through the thick bounty easily,
or would it twine around her knuckles and tickle her palms? Monique desperately
wanted to touch those waves—and everything else. If she could only push the
rules out of her head. Was there really a way to be with him without breaking
them? And if there was, would he be willing to try?


It

s a good thing the wind died down, or that tarp would have ripped completely
in two before I had a chance to tack it back down,

he said, reminding her where
he

d been when she whispered his name. He

d faced that nasty storm head-on, by
himself, in order to save their roof and help her family.

Why?


Is it okay now?

she asked.

Will it hold through this storm?


You care about this house, don

t you? More than you want anyone else to know,
right?

he asked.

She swallowed, knowing she did care, but also knowing that she

d never admitted
it out loud before. Admitting she cared about the house meant admitting she
cared about the spirits.


It

s okay,

he said.

I know the answer, Monique. In fact, I know how you feel
about lots of things. All part of our bonding, I guess. So tell me, do all
spirits connect with you the way I do?

Monique hesitated, refusing to tell him the truth, that no spirit had ever made
her feel like this before, like she wanted anything and everything he could give
her. But what could he give her if they couldn

t touch? She saw him smirk and
knew that he

d sensed her thoughts.

Stop it.


Stop what?

he asked innocently.


Reading my mind.

He had the nerve to laugh.

I can

t read your mind, Monique. I can simply
discern your thoughts, your emotions. And I won

t stop. I like feeling you.

Besides, I don

t think I could stop if I tried. It

s not as though I

m trying to
connect with you. It simply happens.


Just tell me about the tarp. Will it hold through the storm?


I believe so. I did the best I could,

he answered, stepping toward the bed.

I
always do my best. At everything. Is that why you called me here, Monique? Are
you wanting to see me at my best?

He looked so sure of himself, and ready, willing and able to show her he had
good reason for that belief. Goodness knows Monique wanted him to give her a
taste of the best. The best orgasm of her life, she imagined. But there was that
pesky matter of those rules. What happened if they were broken? Would she burst
into flames? Would the
Vicknair
plantation fall to the ground? Would every
family member who

d passed on and those in the present and the future curse her
soul for letting them down and discarding the family heritage because she needed
a good lay?

His cocky look turned into a questioning one, then he frowned and shook his
head.

You didn

t call me here to talk about crossing over, did you? Because—and
I mean this—I have no intention of even visiting the other side, and I have no
desire to be called to a sexy woman

s room merely to talk. You wanted me when
you called. I felt it then, but now you aren

t so sure.

He stepped away from
the bed.

Call me when you want me, Monique.


I do.

Ryan

s retreat stopped in mid-stride. White teeth gleamed as he turned and
smiled. Straight, white teeth. Gorgeous, sexy smile. Monique examined the
mesmerizing male. It was easy to look him over, since that faint ghostly
illumination showcased the entire, intriguing package…and unfortunately reminded
Monique that he was a spirit.


I mean, I did call you because I want you,

she said.


That

s all I needed to hear.

His footsteps squished on the hardwood as he
stepped toward the bed, removed his wet tie and dropped it to the floor.


But—

Monique started, then wanted to kick herself for halting his progression.


But?


But I want to ask you a few questions first.

He frowned.

About crossing over?


No,

she said,

Well, not directly. Don

t you want to get out of those wet
clothes?


I thought that was why you called me here, to get me out of these wet clothes,
and to get you out of that sexy
nightie
.

He gave her an easy smile, then sighed
loudly when she made no immediate comment.

But if you want to ask me some
questions first, I

ll oblige. However, I would like dry clothes.

Monique suddenly realized that she still clutched the vibrator for all she was
worth. She dropped it like a hot iron, and it rolled across the mattress to
nudge her hip. She barely noticed; she was too busy watching Ryan

s wet tuxedo
do a swift conversion to the white T-shirt and jeans he

d had on earlier. His
hair instantly dried, too. He looked amazing, but there was no way this guy
wouldn

t look good. Wet. Dry. In a tuxedo. Or a T-shirt and jeans.

Or nothing at all.

He casually sat in the large wingback chair Monique kept by the bed for when
Jenee
had dreams about spirits and wanted to talk. The shiny cream fabric with
the white swirling print emphasized his luminescent glow. This was no ordinary
man. This was a ghost, a ghost that specialized in fulfilling fantasies. If he
fulfilled hers, what were the consequences? And was she willing to risk it?
Moreover, was she willing to send him away, when she wanted him so badly it
hurt?


You said you have some questions,

he said, stretching his long legs out and
crossing them at the ankles, as though he was ready to discuss anything she
wanted, for as long as she wanted, and would then be available to give
her…everything she wanted.

If we

re not talking about crossing over, then we
must be talking about living in the middle. Is that it?

Monique nodded. That was it. This whole situation was so abnormal from her usual
dealings with spirits that she didn

t know how to handle it, didn

t know how to
handle him. Or their bonding. She

d always bonded well with her assigned
spirits, enough to understand why they

d been given a certain requirement for
crossing and to know what they needed to cross over. But with Ryan, it was more
than a mere bonding. It was as though they were actually joined somehow, a real
part of each other. She knew he

d fixed that tarp because he

d realized that she
would have wanted it fixed. He knew—truly knew—her secret desires. And that made
her, quite simply, wonder if he knew all of her desires, particularly the fact
that right now she wanted him more than her next breath.

What did a medium do when she wanted to break every rule on that list and allow
herself the pleasure she

d missed for the past six months? Shoot, who was she
kidding? She

d bet Ryan
Chappelle
could give her the kind of pleasure she

d
missed her entire lifetime.


What do you want to know, ma

am?

Mon
dieu
. That accent would be her undoing. If she had only realized how
entrancing it was, she

d have visited Alabama years ago. But none of the
Vicknair
mediums traveled too far from home. There was too strong a chance
they

d be away when they received a summons. Come to think of it, she

d never
been assigned a spirit from Alabama. She

d also never been assigned a spirit who
didn

t want to cross over. In fact, she

d never had a spirit who was willing to
answer questions.

Most spirits didn

t want to chat, let alone answer the niggling little questions
that had teased her senses during every crossover, they wanted to remedy the
problems that kept them from crossing and move along. However, with Ryan hanging
out in the central realm for over a year, and with his declaration that he
wasn

t ready to head toward the light, he obviously was in no rush to complete
his task.

How much would he tell?


Go on, Monique,

he coaxed.

Ask.


How do some spirits see the living from the other side? I know my grandmother
sees me, hears me. But not all spirits can see me, can they?

Monique had asked
Nanette this very question. She

d even asked her grandmother before she died,
but neither had known.

Ryan placed his elbows on the worn armrests of the chair,
steepled
his fingers
in front of his chest and regarded her thoughtfully.

To view a living soul from
the other side, or from the middle, a spirit must have a strong affection for
the breathing person or a fervent desire to see that individual.

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