Kiss And Dwell (9 page)

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Authors: Kelley St. John

Tags: #Sexth Sense

BOOK: Kiss And Dwell
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She

s apparently made it her mission to get me through. She

s the one who told
me I couldn

t cross because I

d never loved.

He shrugged.

I told her—several
times—that I made it through my rather short lifespan without losing my heart,
and I sure didn

t plan on breaking that streak just because I happened to stop
breathing. Besides, if I lost my heart now, I

d cross over, and then all of this
would end.

Monique placed the papers on the coffee table, then cuddled back into the soft
blanket, eyeing Ryan suspiciously.

All of what would end? What have you been
doing for the past fourteen months?

Ryan had known she would ask, and he was prepared to answer. He just didn

t know
whether Monique
Vicknair
would believe the truth.

No time like the present to find out.


I

ve been fulfilling fantasies,

he said.

She didn

t look convinced.

Fulfilling your fantasies? In the middle? How?


Do you ever dream, Monique?

he asked.

Dreams that are so vivid, so clear,
that you wake up and try to determine whether it was imagined, or whether it was
real?


Sure,

she said,

Most everyone does. What has that got to do with your
fantasies?


Not my fantasies, necessarily,

he clarified, then cleared his throat and
prepared to explain the bizarre twist his life had taken fourteen months ago
.


Sometimes, when women have those dreams, the sexual ones about a mystery man
who fulfills their every fantasy, the dreams where they wake up hot and heated
and completely satisfied…

he said, watching the tender pulse throb softly in
her throat as she listened.


When women have those dreams…

she prompted.


It isn

t their imagination.

She sat silent, while the rain beat a steady cadence against the room

s
elongated windows. Then her teeth slowly grazed her lower lip, and she brought
those green-gold eyes to meet his.


You can do that?

she finally asked, the words husky and raw, as though she
were forcing them to be spoken.

You can—invade a woman

s dreams?

she asked
again, and her tone wasn

t so much intrigued as appalled.

Hell.

No,

he said, attempting to move closer, and dismayed to see her trying
to scoot further away.

I can

t invade a woman

s dreams. I can only be with a
woman who lets me in, a woman who wants me there and essentially calls me to
fulfill her fantasy.


What was Granny thinking?

she whispered, clutching the blanket and pressing
the gathered material against her throat. The action exposed the sweet curves of
her calves. Ryan wanted to trace those curves, kiss them, lick them.

Monique

s eyes abruptly widened, and she shifted the afghan to cover her legs
.

Had she sensed his thoughts?


Women call you? How?

Okay. At least her tone had converted from disgusted to curious. That was an
improvement. And why should his ability to please women disgust her, anyway? He
was only giving them what they wanted. And whom did it hurt that he enjoyed
giving it? Besides, he didn

t need Monique
Vicknair

s
approval for the way he

d
spent the past fourteen months, or for the way he

d spend the next fourteen, or
the fourteen after that. But for some bizarre reason, he had to admit that he
wanted her approval, very much. And he wanted to stroke those calves. The rules
said she couldn

t touch him; they said nothing whatsoever about him touching
her, Ryan realized with extreme satisfaction and a strong desire to touch her
.

All over.

She gripped the blanket like a lifeline, and Ryan fought the urge to laugh
.

Obviously, she could sense his desire, but she needn

t worry. Ryan would never
force himself on any woman. No, he

d wait—until she asked.


How do they call you?

she repeated.

What do you mean, exactly? Do they know
your name? And that you

re the one in their dreams?


No,

he said, taking a great deal of pleasure in this conversation. He hadn

t
had anyone to talk to about the way he spent his time in the middle. And
knowing—sensing—that she was, in fact, now intrigued by it made the explanation
even more fun.

They simply go to sleep wishing they had a dark, handsome
stranger to take care of—things. If they really want me there, I can help their
fantasies be as real as possible.


You actually have sex with them?

she blurted.


If you mean intercourse, the answer is no,

he answered quickly, and was very
pleased to see, and feel, her aggressiveness dissipate.

But if you mean do I
help push them over the edge, bring them to orgasm with the right words or the
right touch, then yes.


Touch,

she whispered, her eyes inadvertently moving to the pages on the table.


Those rules are yours,

he reminded her softly,

not mine.


So you can touch,

she said, her voice barely above a whisper,

and be
touched?


Yes.

He watched her mouth crook to the side.

Does that bother you?


That you don

t have to follow the rules?

she asked, then answered,

No, not
really. I

m just surprised.


No,

Ryan said.

Does it bother you that I

ve helped quite a few women achieve
earth-shattering orgasms over the past fourteen months?

Her shoulders lifted slightly.

I admit that the thought of a man, ghost or not,
having sex with a woman while she sleeps doesn

t exactly float my boat.

She
paused.

But the thought of a ghost who has no problems helping you get an
earth-shattering orgasm in your dreams is rather, well, exciting.

The corners
of her mouth curved upward slightly, and her eyes grew heavy-lidded. She was
thinking about it, thinking about him.


Something you would want, Monique?

he asked, his manhood stiffening slightly
at the possibility.

Her head seemed to shake on its own accord, as if she couldn

t fathom saying
yes.

No. And don

t get me wrong,

she quickly added.

I admit I

m tempted to
ask you to show me exactly what you

re talking about. You already know I haven

t
had sex in six months,

she said bluntly.

The woman had no qualms talking sex, which was undeniably sexy. He envisioned
her in bed telling him exactly what she liked, what she didn

t. How fast. How
slow. How hard.


But even if those aren

t your rules,

she continued,

Like you said, they

re
still mine. And I don

t even know what the consequences would be if I broke
them.

Ryan considered telling her that the no-touching rule didn

t say anything about
the spirit touching the medium, but he decided to wait. She wasn

t ready to give
him permission to do it yet, and in any case, he didn

t want to tell her what he
could do. It

d be much more fun to show her.

The grandfather clock that centered the room

s two heavily draped windows began
to chime loudly.


Midnight,

she said, eyeing the clock.

I assume that counts as one day of your
nine.


I assume it does,

Ryan agreed.

But it doesn

t matter, I

m not in any hurry
.

Like I told you, I

m not crossing.


Problem is,

Monique said, standing up and draping the blanket around her
shoulders like a fluffy shawl,

even though I may not like it, I told my
grandmother that I

d help the spirits. She

s counting on me to help you, and
evidently, she believes you need to cross over.

She liked helping spirits more than she admitted. He noted the determined set of
her jaw, the way her eyes focused on him as though he were Mount Everest, and
she was getting set to reach the summit. This woman wasn

t going to give up
without a fight.

Ryan couldn

t wait.


You

re destined to cross,

she said,

And I

m destined to make it happen.


Never thought much of destiny,

he said, then couldn

t hold back his grin at
her glare.

And I never thought much of rules.

She wouldn

t think much of
rules, either, if she realized he had the upper hand. He could touch.

She lifted her chin and said resolutely,

I

ve never thought much of rules,
either, if I

m going to be honest about it. But my grandmother assigned you to
me, so she must think I

m able to get you through to the other side. For some
strange reason, she believes I can teach you how to love, and I really don

t
want to let her down.


Because deep down, you don

t hate this at all, do you?

Ryan asked.

You like
helping the spirits, and you

re excited about helping me. I know you do,
Monique. I can feel it, that turmoil within you. You want to hate it all, being
a medium, knowing that something has the power to control your very
existence—because it does control you, doesn

t it? You

re called, and you have
to come, and you hate being compelled. But at the same time, you get off on the
thrill, on the power you have.


Power?

she asked, as though his spiel hadn

t caused her entire body to pulse
with anxiety. He knew he was right. What was more, she couldn

t deny it, because
he could sense her emotions as though she were a part of him. And until he
crossed over, which would never happen, she would be. Ryan could handle that.


Yeah. The power of knowing that whether a spirit crosses over is totally up to
you.

He considered her for a moment, remembering the basic information Adeline
Vicknair
had supplied him in regard to the
Vicknair
family, and Monique

s place
in it.

You

re not normally the one in control around here, are you?

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