Kiss And Dwell (37 page)

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Authors: Kelley St. John

Tags: #Sexth Sense

BOOK: Kiss And Dwell
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Flipping over in the bed, she pitched her voice to the ceiling and bit back
tears.

We were so close,

she said.

And I want him so much. You know I do. I
give you everything, help the spirits, and all I want is to be with Ryan.

She
swallowed thickly past the lump building in her throat.

One time. Why couldn

t
we have one time, so I would know, and so I could remember, until I see him
again on the other side? Is that too much to ask, for everything I give up? To
let me be with the only man I

ve ever wanted? Really be with him, touching him,
and feeling him touch me.

She listened to the loud Winchester chimes echo from the grandfather clock in
the sitting room. Midnight.

Would Ryan cross now?

Another round of thunder and lightning burst forward with a vengeance.

Can

t
anyone up there let me break those rules? Just once?

she yelled toward the
ceiling, but her words were overpowered, once again, by the roaring thunder
outside.

Can

t you give me permission?

Monique whispered, while her tears
formed jagged paths down her cheeks to the shells of her ears. She slid her
fingertips over her face to remove the moisture, but more tears followed in
their wake.

The last chime seemed louder than the others and noisily proclaimed that Ryan

s
day of crossing had come. Monique closed her eyes in defeat.

Then her neck started to burn.

Her eyes popped open.


No.

But she recognized the familiar tingle and knew exactly what it meant. A
new assignment. Which meant her old assignment, Ryan, had crossed over.


No!

she yelled, throwing the covers aside and sitting up in the bed. Before
her feet even hit the floor, the burning moved beyond her neck to settle in her
chest and make her nipples ache. She stood while her flesh flamed, the fire
raging forward from her chest to blaze through every limb. Her breathing hitched
and every nerve ending tingled in anguish. Anguish, because she knew what the
burning meant, and anguish, because Ryan was gone.

She crossed the room, her bare feet stinging as though she were walking on hot
coals. Why was the burning so intense already? It wasn

t as though she hadn

t
started moving, heading toward the sitting room where she had no doubt another
letter awaited.

Another letter. Another ghost. A ghost that wasn

t Ryan.

She didn

t want to go. She wanted to ignore the summons and make the powers that
be suffer for a change, but she was the one suffering. Her body scorched so
fiercely that she could barely make her way down the stairs. Gripping the
handrail and gritting her teeth at the fiery sensation in her palms, she
stumbled down the stairwell.

Thunder shook the house as Monique battled the intensity of the summons. Why was
it burning so much? Was this her punishment for nearly breaking that damn rule?


I—didn

t—do—it,

she spat, even her throat aflame. She

d had a severe case of
strep throat last winter, and the pain had been so intense that she

d cried with
every swallow.

This was worse.


Why?

she asked, then moved a hand to her throat when the single word seemed to
rip its way out. So she silently added, Why tonight? Why another ghost already?
And why couldn

t I have Ryan, just once?

The sitting room was aglow from Adeline
Vicknair

s
fringe-embellished lamp, the
one that always remained lit, even when the power was out. It was a constant
reminder that Grandma Adeline was nearby, and that the cousins could be summoned
at any time.

Like now.

In front of the red velvet settee, the gleaming silver tea service sat
prominently in the center of the mahogany coffee table. And in the middle of the
silver tray, as Monique had known it would be, a lavender-tinted envelope with
her grandmother

s swirling penmanship identified a name along the outside.

Monique
.

She moved forward, her feet still aching with every step, until she could plop
down on the settee and reach for the envelope bearing her name. The moment her
fingertips touched the stylish linen paper, the familiar icy waterfall of
coolness quenched her searing flesh. Normally, she

d have felt relief from the
sensation; tonight, however, she only experienced pain. She didn

t want to help
another ghost. She wanted Ryan. But, as always, she

d do what she had to do, and
the first thing she had to do was open the letter.

Monique ran her finger beneath the edge of the envelope and, like every other
time, listened to the soft crack of the paper giving way as it opened. And, also
like every other time, Adeline

s flowery perfume filled the air as Monique
withdrew the letter.

A single page.

One page? A summons always consisted of three pages. The handwritten note from
Grandma
Vicknair
, the sheet of rules and the original memo sent from the powers
that be. Monique withdrew the pale-purple page, its edges scalloped in the
trademark style of Adeline
Vicknair

s
stationery. Where were the rules? And the
memo?

She carefully unfolded the paper and read the two words written in her
grandmother

s swirling script in the center of the page. Two words. Nothing
more. But if those words meant what Monique suspected…

Permission Granted
.


Oh, my,

Monique whispered, as she sensed a masculine presence enter the room.


Ryan?

she questioned, turning on the settee to see him standing in the
doorway, grinning broadly. Her heart leapt at the sight. He was beautiful, and
he was hers.

For how long?


They

ve given us tonight,

he answered her unspoken question.

Thunder boomed outside, and Monique flinched.

Tonight?

she asked, regaining
her bearings.

And we can touch? We can do—everything?


To your heart

s content,

he said, his dark brows flicking wickedly and that
delicious smile crooking up on one corner.

I believe it

s mighty late, ma

am,
and you should be in bed.


Oh, yes, I should.

She shot a look at the tea service, and the envelope that
was slowly but surely fading away.

Thanks,

she whispered, then gasped when his
big, strong arms slid beneath her and hauled her powerfully against his muscled
frame. He was so warm—hot—exhilarating. Her hands moved instantly to his face,
framed his jaw, pushed through his hair. She was trembling, shaking in his
embrace from the raw pleasure of being so close, of wanting him so much, of
having one night with Ryan. Touching him. Feeling him. Joining completely with
him.

While her body shivered in shocked delight, he carried her out of the sitting
room and up the circular staircase to the second floor and her bedroom, cradling
her close to his heart. Monique had the sudden image of Scarlett, in Rhett

s
arms, thrilled that he was about to have his wicked way with her. Lucky
Scarlett.

Lucky Monique.


I wanted you so much I cried,

she admitted, when he placed her almost
reverently on the bed.

When you left, I thought I

d never see you again.


I couldn

t stay,

he said, taking a hand to the lace edge of her emerald gown
.

The warmth of his fingers made her tremble with need.

I was going to take you,
right there, in the shower, but I couldn

t. I didn

t want to do anything to hurt
you or your family. You were about to let me, and I wouldn

t have been able to
say no. So I did the only thing I could—I left.

His wide palms moved lower to
cover her breasts, and he squeezed them gently, while she gasped in sheer
pleasure.

It was the hardest thing I ever had to do.


Ryan, we only have one night,

she said.

I don

t want to go slow. I want to
see you, all of you, and I want to watch you come inside of me.

His jaw clenched tight.

Monique, I want you so badly it

s killing me, but if I
don

t keep things slow, then I

m afraid I won

t be able to control myself. It

ll
be hard and hot and intense, and probably rougher than you want, and I don

t
want to hurt you.

His honesty touched her soul and the intensity behind his words told her exactly
what she needed to hear. He wanted her as badly as she wanted him.


I

ve been a long time without a man, too,

she said.

And I

ve never had you
inside me,

she added, as the pressure of his hands on her breasts made her
gasp.

So, hard and hot and intense, rougher than you think I can handle,

she
said, letting her mouth curve in a seductive smile,

is exactly what I want.

Her body lifted from the sheet as his hands slid away from her breasts to grip
the edge of her nightgown, pull it apart and rip the thin fabric away. Her
panties were next, and he tore the flimsy material from her body, tossed it to
the floor, then wasted no time putting his hand between her thighs and pushing
one finger, then two, deep into her core, while his thumb started a maddening
assault on her clit that had her convulsing in pre-climax shudders.


You

re as hot, as tight, as I knew you

d be,

he said, his voice hungry with
need.

I

ve dreamed of touching you, Monique, burned to touch you.


Yes, Ryan. Yes.

Her words quivered with the intensity of her desire.


Is that what you want, Monique? Is that where you want me? I need to—have
to—hear you say it.

She reached for his pants, pressed her hand against the hardness encased in his
jeans and nodded.

Yes, Ryan, please. Now.

He slid his fingers from her burning center, but instead of removing his
clothes, he eased her to the edge of the bed, then lowered to his knees
.

Massaging her inner thighs with shaky hands, he gently spread her legs apart
.


There

s so much I want to do with you,

he said.

And I

ve wanted to taste you
for way too long, Monique.

Then he pressed his mouth to her clitoris and kissed
her softly.

Oh, Monique,

he whispered, then gently kissed her there again.


Ryan,

she whimpered, reveling in the warmth. He ended the intimate kiss and
licked her aching center. Monique held her breath and focused on every
sensation. Ryan, licking her, sucking her, driving her closer and closer to the
edge. When her stomach dipped and that spiraling, tingling wave of desire began
to burn toward the very spot where his mouth was torturing her so thoroughly, he
pulled back, looked up at her with those wicked dark eyes.

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