Ghosted

Chapter Seventeen #2

I touch his arm. ‘Keep going,’ I say.

He looks up. ‘Yeah?’

I nod. ‘Yeah.’

‘Okay. Well, I was crazy about you from the get-go. But I thought after a couple of years of not seeing each other, and after what happened between us, I’d be less…

’ He puts his glass on the table and nervously rubs his hands up and down his thighs.

‘I guess I’ve been caught off guard by how you still make me feel.

Just sitting here next to you, it feels…

right. It feels as if no time has passed between us. ’

My breath catches, my head swimming from his words. I know exactly what he means, because I feel it too. That same connection I felt when we first met. He made my heart skip then, and he still makes it skip now. But I didn’t expect to hear him say that out loud.

I stare at my hands, willing words to come out. I can hear his breath, as shaky as mine, feel his thigh touching my thigh, his shoulder pressed against me, warming me more than any fire ever could.

I fill my lungs with the deepest breath I can and say, ‘I feel the same way about you, about us.’

Callum blows out a long, soft sigh. ‘That’s the best news I’ve had in a very long time.’

His teeth tug on his bottom lip as his arm very slowly slips behind me and around my waist. My heart flutters wildly as I look into his eyes, his face glowing in the firelight.

Oh my god, he’s going to kiss me. Really kiss me .

I instantly think of every reason we shouldn’t be kissing, and a thousand more why we should.

Then I let my gaze drop to his full, soft pout and I’m lost.

Everything slows as he leans in, lips parted, eyes already closed, and presses his mouth to mine.

I shiver at his touch, so warm, so tender, better than I’d imagined, more than I’d imagined.

I savour the taste of whiskey on his tongue, smoky and sweet, and breathe in his scent, the one he left on my pillow, the one that makes me giddy with desire. Then I suck on his bottom lip.

‘Holy fuck,’ he says as I pull back slightly. Then he clutches me tighter, his fingers digging into my waist, arms squeezing me closer, cinching me to his chest, a wall of smouldering heat – and kisses me again.

I cling to him, dizzy from the rush of blood whooshing in my ears. When he moans softly against my mouth, it’s the sexiest thing I’ve ever heard.

Heat explodes inside me, shooting everywhere.

I’m so turned on right now I think I might combust. Callum tucks his fingers into the waistband of my pjs, fluttering tiny caresses against my bare hipbone.

I set my hand on his thigh and gently squeeze, thrilling when he jolts with surprise.

My touch trails slowly up his leg, his muscles twitching and flexing under my roaming fingers until my hand finds the skin of his waist, so warm.

Then he moans again, the sound vibrating with need.

His touch, his taste, his tiny noises of pleasure, even the scratch of his stubble feels so good.

When we finally break for air, my eyes flutter open. His full mouth is pink and shiny and his pupils are black and huge, the green of his irises shining neon around them, as if he were electric.

‘Wow,’ he says, all throaty. ‘As first kisses go, that was, ah…’ He blows out a soft whistle.

It takes a second for my brain to spark back to life, and when it does, all I manage is, ‘Uh-huh.’

We snuggle on the couch, tangled in each other’s arms watching embers popping like tiny fireworks as they drift languidly up the flue.

The flames and the whiskey are making me sleepy, so I curl in tighter, lifting my legs up onto the cushions and resting my cheek on his chest, thrilling at the thump-thump-thump of his heart.

I love his heart. I love how his heart gets me.

Callum gets me. I feel like I fit when I’m around him, like I’m a part of this world, and that’s more important to me than anything else.

More important than his beautiful face or amazing kisses.

I fell hard for him once. I think I could again. I think I already have.

He touches my chin, turns my face towards him and tenderly sweeps away my bangs. Then he dusts a tiny kiss across my temple, my nose, then, ever so softly, my lips.

‘I don’t want to rush you,’ he says. ‘I don’t want to rush this. I’m happy to take it slow. If we’re going to do this. Are we doing this?’

I look into his expectant eyes, burning bright with hope.

I try to say yes. I try to say, Yes, we’re doing this, Callum, and a whole lot more .

But I can’t. Instead, I sit up, kiss him lightly, and give him the only answer I can right now.

Because I’m still scared that all these emotions could trip us up at the wrong moment, like the night I lost Celeste.

‘I think we should get through this investigation first,’ I say. ‘There’s too much happening here and we need to be totally focused on that. Then let’s see where we’re at when we get home. What do you think?’

Callum’s shoulders slump. It’s almost imperceptible, but I see it and I ache knowing that I’ve caused it.

He dusts the backs of his fingers across my cheek.

‘Of course,’ he says softly. ‘You’re right, we do need to focus.

But just remember, I’m right here when you’re ready.

’ Then he cocks a brow and changes his tone.

‘I mean, I will actually be right here. Well, not right here here, because at some point, we’re both going to have to get off this couch. ’ He grins, all toothy and Callumy.

I laugh and whack his arm.

‘We should go to bed,’ he says. ‘Um. Sleep. We should go to sleep. You know what I mean.’

‘I know what you mean.’

He stands and offers me his hand. ‘Ms Daniels?’

‘I think I might sit for a minute and finish my drink, but I’ll see you for breakfast, okay?’

‘You’ve got it, Sunshine.’ He presses his lips to the top of my head. ‘But don’t stay up too late. We’ve got ghost busting to do tomorrow.’

I watch him move towards the door. He stops and gives me a wink over his shoulder, so cheesy I snort. Then he disappears into the darkness of the hall, leaving me alone with a nearly-empty bottle of whiskey and a head full of muddled thoughts.

I’m staring at the spot in my room where the spirit of Elizabeth stood only an hour earlier.

There’s something gnawing at me, and it won’t let up.

Something I can’t quite put my finger on.

A bad vibe that keeps repeating like the remnants of a spicy meal.

I’m used to seeing spirits, I couldn’t even count how many I’ve faced down.

But this is different, it’s confusing and strange and I hate to admit it, but I’m scared.

For the first time in a very long time, I’m scared of a spirit.

I glance at the adjoining door. Opening it a crack, I can see that Callum is already tucked under the covers.

I look over my shoulder at my own bed, my hand still lingering on the door handle.

What if Callum is right and the spirit is trying to trick me?

What if it’s all lies and it’s laying a trap for whatever it is that wants me?

I don’t know what’s happening here, but I know I don’t want to face it alone.

I tiptoe across the floor to Callum’s bed and lean over him, squinting to see if he’s asleep.

He cracks one eye open, then flicks on the lamp and rolls over to face me with a sleepy smile.

‘What’s up? You changed your mind about me already?’

I laugh a little. ‘Yeah. Because you’re that irresistible.’

‘I knew it.’ He blesses me with one of his dazzling grins. ‘Seriously, though, is everything okay?’

‘I know this sounds weird and a bit damsel-in-distress – which I’m not.’

‘Of course not,’ he says.

‘But I’m a bit freaked out by Elizabeth’s spirit.

I know it’s stupid, but what if you’re right?

What if she’s what Richard was warning me about?

What if she lured me here? I’m mean, obviously you’re the one who lured me here.

’ His brows shoot up. ‘Because, you know, you texted me,’ I quickly add, ‘and asked for my help and that’s why I’m here.

Because of you, I mean because of the job.

Which is the house, and…’ I stop and raise my eyes to the ceiling.

‘Are you just going to let me flail like this?’

‘Yep. It’s kind of cute.’

I puff out a full-cheeked sigh. ‘What I’m trying to say is, can I sleep in here tonight? If it wouldn’t make you uncomfortable.’

Surprise flickers across his eyes, and he sits up and grabs his pillow. ‘Sure. Of course. I’ll sleep in the armchair so you can take the bed.’

‘You don’t have to do that. We’re both adults. Sharing a bed doesn’t mean we’re going to…’ I cringe.

There’s a beat of the most awkward silence I’ve ever experienced, then Callum casually shrugs and asks, ‘You wanna sleep head to toe? Or we can build a wall between us out of pillows. Like a fort.’

He kneels on the mattress with two pillows in his arms. It’s sweet and reassuring, and it makes my heart hiccup.

‘I think we can cope without a pillow fort. But no spooning me, okay?’

He chuckles and flings back the covers, and I climb in.

‘I’ll bet you five bucks it’s you who spoons me, Daniels,’ he says as he flicks off the lamp.

‘In your dreams, Jefferies.’

‘Every single night.’

The little sleep I manage to get is anything but restful.

My dreams are filled with Elizabeth standing on the highway uttering words I can’t make myself hear.

Then she’s on the floor at the foot of my bed, bleeding, and gurgling out a warning, a silver dagger protruding from her breast. There are strange men chanting around bodies that hang in trees, and a gaping void that howls my name from somewhere in the depths of the house.

And Callum. I dream of Callum. Except it isn’t him, it’s someone wearing his face, and it terrifies me.

I toss and turn, desperate for rest, but I’m acutely aware that Callum is lying beside me.

Every time he moves, I freeze, in case we inadvertently touch.

I know I made the right call, asking if we can hold off on whatever this is for now.

With something in that house possibly trying to kill us both, it’s smarter to focus on that than on each other.

So even though I want to press into him, throw my legs over and turn him into my very own jungle gym, I keep as far over my side of the bed as I can, waking with a jolt more than once as I almost roll onto the floor.

Now, as the morning light peeks around the drapes, I lie still and listen to him breathe – a steady, soothing rhythm that chases away my night terrors.

I carefully shuffle onto my side. He’s facing me with his lips slightly parted in sleep.

I smile at the spattering of schoolgirl freckles that dot his nose, then my gaze moves to his mouth, and I think of our kiss.

Our amazing, toe-curling kiss. I yearn to touch him.

To trace my finger along the winding tattoo that swirls enticingly from his wrist. To sneak my hand inside his shirt and bask in the heat of his skin.

To dust tiny kisses along the stubble shadowing his jaw, nuzzle his throat and breathe him in.

To crush my lips against his, again and again so I can hear him moan. I nearly moan at the thought of it.

I roll onto my back with a sigh, smiling at the glorious ache that now pulses between my thighs. I need a shower. Probably a cold one.

I’m about to pull back the covers and slip out of bed when Callum stirs. Pressing the heels of his palms to his eyes, he rubs, then squints into the light and blinks at me. When his sleepy gaze finally focuses on my face, he smiles.

‘Morning, Sunshine.’ His voice is thick with early morning gravel.

He stretches out his long legs, his feet poking from beneath the sheets, and gives me a gentle kick. I smile and kick him back.

‘Good morning. Did you sleep okay? I didn’t disturb you, did I?’

He props himself up on his elbow. ‘Best sleep I’ve had in ages. How about you?’

‘Not so good. I had some wild dreams.’

‘Wild? Were they about me?’ He smirks.

I hesitate, then I decide to tell him the truth. ‘You might have been in the mix.’

He arches a brow. ‘Oh yeah? What were we doing?’

‘Not that.’

‘Damn. Do we need to worry about them?’

‘No. They just felt like dreams.’

‘Good.’ He rolls onto his back and pats his belly. ‘I’m starving. What do you say we order breakfast in bed?’ He shoots me a glance that’s pure mischief.

I laugh. ‘Definitely not.’

‘Oh well. You can’t blame a guy for trying.’ He shrugs, all messy hair and sparkling eyes. ‘I’m going to take a shower. I’ll leave the door open a little, just in case ghost girl shows up again. No peeking, though.’

I squeeze my thighs together, squishing away another rush of the heat. ‘I’ll try to resist.’

‘Don’t try too hard,’ he says, and he leans in and kisses my shoulder as if it’s the most natural thing in the world.

My gaze trails after him, appreciating the way his T-shirt hugs his back and how nicely his sweatpants fit the curves of his ass.

I listen as the water starts running, trying not to picture what’s going on in there, until first his shirt and then his pants come soaring out the door.

I shake my head, laughing as I climb out of his bed.

Then an old fear stirs inside me, the one that’s kept me locked up for so long.

But instead of surrendering to it, I think about how good it feels listening to Callum mangle ‘Sweet Child O’ Mine’ in the shower.

I choose to be happy, and it feels so strange I hardly know what to do with it.