Chapter 39
The next evening, Rachel stood at the window overlooking the street. The sun was setting, painting the sky in shades of orange and pink. Across the street, an elderly woman in a floral blouse was tending to her garden, moving slowly but steadily among the rosebushes.
"That's Mrs. Chen," Ghost said from behind her, his voice soft. "She's lived here longer than anyone."
Rachel smiled, watching the woman's careful hands pruning spent blooms. "She seems sweet."
"She is." He moved to stand beside her, his hand finding the small of her back. "She bakes cookies every Christmas. Brings them to the whole block."
"Do you eat them?"
"Every year. She makes these chocolate chip ones with sea salt that are..." He made a chef's kiss gesture. "Incredible."
Rachel leaned into him, her head resting against his shoulder. She watched Mrs. Chen kneel carefully beside a bed of roses, her movements practiced despite her age. It was so normal. So peaceful. The life Rachel had never let herself imagine having.
"I like it here," she said quietly.
"Yeah?"
"Yeah." She paused, feeling the weight of what she wanted to say. What she was admitting. "I like... this. Us."
His arm came around her, pulling her close. She felt him exhale, felt some of the tension leave his body.
"Me too," he said, his voice rough.
They stayed like that, watching the sun disappear below the horizon. Mrs. Chen finished with her roses and gathered her tools, heading back inside her house. A car passed by, headlights cutting through the growing dusk. Somewhere down the street, wind chimes sang in the evening breeze.
It felt like a moment suspended in time. Before tomorrow. Before the team came back and everything became operational. Before the danger became real in a way it hadn't been while they were hidden here.
Rachel turned in his arms, looking up at him. His eyes were already on her, dark and warm in the fading light.
"Logan," she whispered.
He cupped her face, fingers threading through her hair, then leaned down and kissed her, soft, unhurried, like they had all the time in the world even though they both knew they didn’t.
When he pulled back, he took her hand. "Come on baby."
He led her to the bedroom.
This time was different from the urgency of yesterday's shower, different from the desperate need of their first night. This was slower. Deliberate. Like they were both trying to memorize each other before everything changed.
Ghost undressed her carefully, his hands gentle as he pulled her shirt over her head, as he slid her shorts down her legs.
He unhooked her bra and let it fall, then knelt to remove her underwear, the black lace pair he'd bought her yesterday.
His eyes held hers the whole time, watching her face in the lamplight.
When she stood bare before him, he rose and just looked at her.
"I can't get over how beautiful you are, baby," he said quietly, his voice rough with emotion. "And that you're with me." His hand came up to cup her face, fingers threading through her hair. "You could have any man you want, and I'm the lucky bastard that gets to kiss you—"
He leaned in and kissed her lips, soft and reverent.
"—touch you—"
His mouth moved to her jaw, pressing a kiss there, lingering.
"—be inside you."
He kissed her throat, and she felt the words vibrate against her skin, felt her pulse jump beneath his lips.
Her pulse jumped hard. Her hands came up to grip his shoulders, needing to hold onto something. "Logan—"
"I mean it." He pulled back just enough to meet her eyes, and the raw honesty in his expression made her chest ache. "Every morning I wake up with you here and I can't believe it's real."
She reached for him, her fingers trembling slightly as they worked the buttons of his shirt. "It's real. I'm here. I'm not going anywhere."
Ghost stood still as she pushed it off his shoulders.
She unbuckled his belt, unzipped his jeans. Pushed them down along with his boxer briefs until he stood naked before her.
Ghost took her hand and led her to the bed.
He laid her down gently, his body following hers onto the mattress. The sheets were cool against her heated skin. He braced himself above her, looking down at her with an intensity that made her breath catch.
"Rachel," he said, and there was something raw in his voice.
"I'm here," she whispered.
He kissed her then, deep and slow. His tongue swept into her mouth and she moaned, her hands coming up to grip his shoulders. He settled between her thighs, and she could feel the hard length of him pressing against her.
But he didn’t rush. He kissed her until she was breathless, until her hips were rolling up against him seeking friction, then kissed down her neck, across her collarbone, lower.
He took one nipple into his mouth and she gasped, her back arching off the bed.
His hand cupped her other breast, thumb circling the peak while his mouth worked the first.
"Logan," she breathed, her fingers threading into his hair.
He kissed down her stomach, his mouth hot against her skin. When he reached the juncture of her thighs, he looked up at her. "Can I?"
She nodded, unable to form words.
He settled between her legs, his hands gripping her thighs, holding her open for him, then his mouth was on her and she cried out, her head falling back against the pillow.
He took his time. Learning what made her gasp, what made her moan, what made her hips buck against his mouth.
His tongue circled her clit, his fingers sliding inside her, and the combination was devastating.
The pleasure built slowly, spiraling higher with every stroke of his tongue, every curl of his fingers.
When she came, it was with his name on her lips and her fingers gripping his hair hard enough to hurt. He worked her through it, drawing it out until she was trembling and oversensitive.
He kissed back up her body, his mouth finding hers. She could taste herself on his tongue and it made something primal coil tight in her belly.
"I need you," she whispered against his mouth. "Please, Logan. I need you inside me."
He reached between them, guiding himself to her entrance, then pushed in slowly, so slowly, watching her face as he filled her inch by inch. She was so slick, so ready for him, and he slid in easily despite his size.
When he was fully seated inside her, they both stilled. The sensation was overwhelming, him filling her completely, stretching her, the feeling of being joined with him in the most intimate way possible.
"Okay?" he asked, his voice strained.
"Perfect," she breathed. "You're perfect."
He started to move. Long, slow strokes that had her gasping. This wasn't the urgent sex of before. This was making love. This was something deeper, something that felt like it meant more than just physical pleasure.
He shifted the angle slightly and hit a spot deep inside her that sent lightning up her spine. She cried out, her nails digging into his shoulders, her whole body arching off the bed.
"There?" he asked, doing it again.
"Yes. God, yes. Right there."
He kept that angle, kept that rhythm, driving into her with perfect precision. His hand slid between them, thumb finding her clit, and the dual sensation was too much.
She came apart with a cry, her whole body clenching around him. She felt him tense above her, felt his rhythm break, and then he was coming too, burying himself deep inside her with a groan that sounded like her name.
They stayed like that for a long moment, both breathing hard, hearts pounding against each other. Ghost's forehead dropped to her shoulder, his breath hot against her skin.
When he finally moved, pulling out of her and rolling to his side, he immediately pulled her against him. She curled into his chest, her head resting over his heart.
"Rachel?" His voice was quiet, almost hesitant.
"Yeah?"
"I'm glad you're here. With me."
She tilted her head to look up at him. "Me too."
He kissed her forehead, his arms tightening around her. They lay there in the lamplight, tangled together, neither of them speaking. Just being.
After a while, Ghost shifted. "Come on. Let's clean up and go sit for a bit."
They got up and went to the bathroom. He washed her gently with a warm cloth, then himself. They pulled on comfortable clothes, her in his shirt again, him in sweatpants, and padded out to the living room.
***
Later, they ended up on the couch with leftover pizza reheated in the oven. Rachel was curled against Ghost's side, her feet tucked under her, picking at a slice. His arm was around her shoulders, his hand playing with her hair.
Some home renovation show played on the TV, but neither of them was watching. They were just sitting together in the comfortable quiet that had developed between them over the past three days.
"Can I ask you something?" Ghost said after a while.
"Sure."
"Tell me about yourself."
Rachel laughed. "I already told you about my family. My brother. My parents."
"I know." He shifted to look at her, his hand stilling in her hair. "But I want to know more. Not just about your family. About you. What makes you happy. What you love. Things that have nothing to do with work or this shit we're dealing with."
Rachel set her plate on the coffee table and turned to face him. "Why?"
"Because I want to know everything about you."
The way he said it, so simple, so honest, made her chest feel tight and full.
"Okay." She thought for a moment, then smiled. "I love horses."
His eyebrow raised. "Horses?"
"Not like 'oh, horses are pretty' love. Like certifiably horse crazy." She felt herself warming to the topic, memories flooding back. "I used to ride competitively when I was younger. All the way through college."
Ghost's expression softened, his full attention on her. "Yeah? What kind of riding?"