Careless Whisper (6 page)

“I acted like a fool at the party because I didn’t want to look stupid to you. You and I have a special connection and I didn’t want to screw up things with my Spirit Mate. I’ve wanted to talk to you many times, but I couldn’t.”

“Because I can see people who don’t exist?”
She fluttered her hands in the air. “No, I know, it’s because you needed a warm body in a pinch.
Someone who will lend credit to your farce of a show.
The spirit business just made it sound official.” Samara stood and wiped tears from her face. “I need to go before I embarrass myself.”

Thunder rumbled through the house. Fat rain droplets splattered against the windows and echoed throughout the apartment. Felicity’s voice slipped into his brain.
Don’t let her leave.
Ryan ground his teeth together. If Samara spent the night, it would be on her terms, not because his ex insisted.

“Samara, I want you to stay. You’ll get soaked.” His voice sounded rough, even to his own ears. “It’s too dangerous, but if you have to go, I understand.”

“Save the chivalry.”

She pushed past him, but he enfolded her in his arms. “Take your emotions out on me, babe.” Ryan stroked her hair, relishing the feel of her body against his. “Let it out without running away.” With her, he felt whole again. “Just let me hold you, please?”

Although it took longer than he’d have liked, Samara curled against him, wrapping her arms around his waist. She buried her face in the crook of his neck, wetting his shirt with her tears. “I don’t understand…anything.”

“Ghosts are spirits who can’t leave our realm.” He cupped her skull, resting his forehead against hers to look into her eyes. “Some are powered by love and memories, like
Honoria
. But others fuel themselves on fear and negative energy.”

“Then you have this gift?” Samara slipped from his grasp, putting space between them. “Other than
Gramma
, who can you see?”

Hell, she wanted the truth. Rubbing his palms on his jeans, he debated what to say. “My abilities are limited.” The lights flickered as if to accentuate his words.

“Just as I suspected—your show
is
a fraud.”

“Yes and no. I can only see the ones who want me to see them, but seeing isn’t everything. You and I belong together.” Ryan scrubbed his eyes with the heel of his hand. There were so many things he needed to explain. An icy feeling seeped into his bones as Felicity’s vanilla perfume tickled his senses. For a split second, her image flashed before his eyes. The scowl on her face etched itself onto his brain. Did she want him to be with Samara or was this yet another push-pull game?

“Ryan, this won’t work. I’m not a Spirit Mate.”

“Check the weather on my laptop.”

“Why? What’s it got to do with
Gramma
?”

“The storm.
We weren’t slated for rain until next Tuesday.” He sighed. Going on without Samara wasn’t a possibility. “Samara, you—I want you to trust me. This storm isn’t a freak occurrence. Sometimes spirits manipulate the weather to show their presence. They can fuck with the cosmos if they can garner enough energy, you know, like raining during a funeral or wedding.” He inched towards her, bridging the gap to her. “I can’t explain it, but my gut feeling is to keep you as close as possible. My heart’s attached to you and I know you feel it, too, because you know there’s a stronger bond here.”

Before she could answer, a sizzle split the air.

“I shouldn’t believe you. I should run out that door and never look back.”

“Most people don’t believe what I say.”

She smoothed her fingers over his chest. “I don’t know if it was
Gramma
, but a voice told me to keep you close. Is that the Spirit Mate stuff working?”

“It could be. I’ll get down on my knees if I have to, but the elevator won’t work and I don’t have a handle to manually open the garage door. Stay, please?”

The glow of her cell phone lit the blackened room. “I keep it handy for emergencies. According to the clock, it’s three A.M.” The pale blue light sparkled in her eyes as she stared at him. “If I must stay with you, Spirit Mate or not, I’m going to crash on the couch. I won’t impose.”

“Take my bed.”

“Ryan.” As the lightning flashed, her gaze snapped to his. “This isn’t the time.”

“I know you’re angry with me and I deserve it for not being honest, but I meant what I said. My heart won’t let me leave you alone.” He smoothed the pads of his fingers over her cheek. “I spent too much time acting like a jerk because I didn’t trust my instincts, but if it helps, I liked you from the moment I saw you.”

“And your instincts tell you something bad
is
brewing besides the lack of electricity?”

“I’m sure I want you here, in my arms, but whatever malevolent spirit wants to do harm isn’t playing around.”

As his eyesight adjusted to the darkness, he noticed her gaze vacillating between his eyes and his throat. She licked her lips and puffed out a breath. “I don’t know why I feel like I need to trust you, but down in my gut I’m certain I need to stay put”—she gestured
 
to her right—”on the couch.”

Ryan replied with a slow nod of his head. “I’ll be a gentleman and keep you safe.”
In his bed and in his arms.

Chapter Seven

“The couch is lumpy and heaven knows what’s crawled into the crevices. My bed is nice and warm and more comfortable.” As Ryan nudged her towards the bedroom, a shard of pain pierced Samara’s heart. She was probably the first woman he had to cajole into his inner sanctum. No doubt other women went willingly. His voice broke through her thoughts. “Stay put and I’ll grab some sleepwear. I don’t want you to trip in the darkness.”

“I can’t sleep here. This is your place and you just said it was fine if I crashed on the couch.” The light from a security lamp blinked on, splashing a dim yellow glow around the room.

“Technically, a nod doesn’t mean things are fine, but I insist. My bed is all yours.” Ryan handed her a T-shirt emblazoned with the Ghost Explorers logo—a calligraphic GE and paint spatters on a black background. “It’s the best I have on short notice.”

“I can sleep in my clothes.” She tugged on the hem of her shirt.
“Comfy casual.”

“Nah, a woman is sexy in a man’s shirt.” He draped the cotton across his
pecs
. “Like it?”

She traced the letters with her finger, happy to touch anywhere on his body. “Is this the original logo?”

“That’s the prototype, yeah.” His voice came out ragged and husky. “I designed it myself when I came up with the idea for the show. I was just messing around.”

“Don’t discount yourself. This logo has an air of mysticism about it that better fits the show. It’s classy, yet eye-catching.” She placed her other hand on his chest, smoothing her palms to his shoulders. “Why didn’t you use it?”

“Matilda and the other head honchos said it looked tired—but what do they know?”

“Absolutely nothing.”
Samara toyed with the hairs at the base of his skull.
So soft and silky.
Her nipples pebbled behind her bra. Did he feel the tension between them?
The desire slowly eroding at her restraint?
The warmth of his body radiated to hers. If she moved an inch, their lips would meet again.

Although his lids drooped to half-mast, Ryan shoved his hands into his pockets and nodded to the front room. “I’m
gonna
call it a night on the couch.”

“Yeah?”
No, no. he was supposed to take her, to act like the Ryan she’d seen on the show—all bluster and sex appeal.

“Goodnight, sweetheart.”

Samara nibbled her bottom lip as he shuffled out of the bedroom. Embarrassment coursed through her veins. He wanted her to like him, not the persona from the show. And she’d admitted she liked him! Talk about making a mess out of nothing. She stared at the photos on the walls to regain her bearings, but her breath caught when a streak of lightning illuminated the room. A photo sat curled over on his dresser. Her curiosity got the better of her as she shifted the curled paper. In the image, he wore a tuxedo and smiled while a scantily clad brunette in white clung to his arm.

His wedding picture.

A pang of jealousy hit hard. Duh, she knew he’d been married. He’d told her so. Why did it bother her?
Because she liked him more than she wanted to admit.
She clutched her stomach, aware of the pounds in places most men found unappealing. He’d made the first move by insisting she join him for a ghost hunt. He admitted he wanted her even after she shoved him away with both hands.
 
He stirred something deep within her. Her body craved his touch and her mind? Arguing with him charged her senses. Was it the Spirit Mate stuff he talked about?

Shedding her tank top and jeans, she pondered her next move. He said he liked her. Was he in the other room thinking about her, craving her touch and kiss?
Only one way to find out.
“Ryan?”

A thump echoed from the front room, followed by hurried footsteps.
“Samara?
What’s wrong?” Ryan, completely clothed, burst through the bedroom doorway. “Are you…?”

“I changed my mind. I want you to stay in here with me.”

His mouth opened and closed twice before he answered. He fisted his hands at his sides, tension radiating in his muscles. “I’ll sleep in my clothes so you don’t think I’m trying to take advantage of you.”

“I want you to.” There. She’d been blunt. Told him what she wanted without wimping out. He held the next move. “I’m here for your taking.”

“Huh?” His gaze roved over her body, pausing on her breasts before making the journey to her eyes. “Samara
…
”

“I’m not going to hide the fact I am very much attracted to you.” She slid the straps of her bra down her shoulders. No turning back now. “I don’t believe I have any special abilities and I’m not buying into this Spirit Mate business, but if part of the grand scheme is to bring us together—I’m game.”

“Babe.”
The word came out low, on a groan. “I want.”

She climbed onto the bed, crawling towards him and closing the gap. “You sleep nude, don’t you?”

He swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat. “That’s not the question I expected.” He cupped her skull, his thumbs caressing the skin behind her ears and sending a jolt of electricity to her core.

“Tell me the truth,” she replied, kissing his inner wrist.

His lips parted with a sigh. “You’re not
gonna
go easy on me?” When she shook her head, he continued, his voice hoarse. “Boxers, in case there’s a fire. I don’t want to flash the neighbourhood even if it is
pitch
black outside.”

A grin curled her lips. She’d created his edgy condition and damn if it didn’t feel wonderful. “You look
…
tense. Would you rather I wear your shirt?”

Ryan threaded his fingers into her hair and rested his forehead against hers, the warmth of his breath feathering her skin. “I want to see you naked.”

If she was going to screw up her life and throw good sense to the wind, she might as well go all the way. She hooked her fingers into his belt loops, giving in to the bone-deep desire to make love to him. “Stay with me.”

“My pleasure.”

In one fluid movement, Ryan released her and yanked his shirt up over his head, giving her the first delicious view of his chiselled torso. She splayed her hands over his
pecs
, relishing the feel of his hard body. A light dusting of hair below his belly button led the way to his buckle. The scent of his cologne, woodsy with a hint of soap, curled around her body. His nipples spiked under her touch. Going on instincts, she nipped her way across his chest. The taste of his salty skin exploded on her tongue.

“Yes, Sam.” Ryan groaned. “Like that.”

She wrapped her fingers around the back of his neck and blazed a trail of kisses to his throat. The scratch of his day old whiskers abraded the tip of her nose and chin. Without backing away, Samara reached around to remove her brassiere. No matter how hard she tried, the clasps wouldn’t give way.

“Let me,” Ryan murmured and stilled her hands. “I’ve got it in
under
three seconds—it’s instinct.” With the flick of his fingers, the bra catch opened. The cups slid from her breasts, baring her upper body.

She giggled under his gaze. “Well done.”

A lazy smile curled his mouth as he edged her back onto the bed. “Gorgeous.” Ryan towered over her, caressing her breast. “Kiss me.”

Samara threaded her arms around his neck, drawing him to her. The moment his lips met hers, she whimpered and opened to him. His tongue tangled with hers, the taste of cola and sheer man washing over her. She dug her nails into his shoulders, clamouring to get closer to him.

When he broke the connection, she panted. In a few short moments, he consumed her thoughts. “Ryan.” How had she managed to live without someone like him in her life?

“I need you.” He clasped her breast, rolling her nipple between his thumb and forefinger.
 
“All mine.” Ryan travelled to her chest, leading the way with the flat of his tongue. He rubbed his stubbly cheek over both nipples before suckling. “I could stay here all night.”