Chapter 13
thirteen
AUTUMN
My heart’s racing as I wait for Zeke’s answer. There’s a part of me that can’t believe I just asked him that—but honestly, this entire situation is so incredibly unbelievable to begin with, it feels like anything’s game.
Zeke grins at me from below. “You bet, hot stuff.”
He reaches down, hand hovering somewhere above his rock hard dick. Although I can’t tell exactly what’s going on, his hands look like they’re gripping something invisible. Like they’re tangled in somebody’s hair—which they probably are.
Until now, I haven’t let myself steal more than a glance at Zeke’s anatomy—not because I’m shy, but because I was honestly afraid of finding him even more tempting than I already do.
Which is exactly what happened the second I kissed him, felt his tongue sweep through my mouth.
There’s still the fact that he’s way too young.
That he’s kind of a player. That he’s Will’s little brother.
So while I’m too turned on now to not stare at his long, smooth cock, I’m also not going to go all hands-on.
It’s going to be weird enough looking Lydia in the face knowing I’ve seen her future brother-in-law get sucked off by some invisible woman.
I may be super wet, but no way am I getting myself more involved here.
“Fuck,” Zeke murmurs, his back arching.
There’s a sliver of moonlight streaming through the window, and it falls across Zeke’s midsection. I see the way his abs clench, his hips flexing as he drives his cock up into some unseen mouth. It’s all so bizarre, but holy hell is it hot.
I trace my fingers lightly along Zeke’s collarbone. His breaths are heavy. His grip in what I assume is long, silky hair strengthens, and his hips thrust harder. Faster.
“I’m getting close,” Zeke growls. “Just… a little longer…”
The rasp in his voice is sexy as fuck, and I have to resist the urge to lean over and kiss the hell out of him. But I hang back. I don’t want to bother him. Get in his way.
“Kiss me,” Zeke demands.
Well, then.
I’m about to lean down again, but before I can, he’s got my face in his hands and is biting down on my lip so hard it almost makes me yelp. But the stab of pain fades quickly, and in its place there’s only Zeke, giving me the most electric kiss I’ve ever had as he groans into my mouth.
With my lips still on his, I look up to see he’s now grabbed his cock and is tugging it as he kisses me. As his dick pulses beneath his grip, cum streams from the tip and spills onto his chiseled, moonlit stomach.
He lies like that for a moment, eyes closed and head in my lap, chest heaving as his heart rate comes down. Then his eyes flutter open and he grins.
“God damn.”
I laugh softly. “Was it good?”
“Yeah, it was fire.”
“Good. Is she… still here?”
Zeke nods, raising his head and casting his grin toward someone I can’t see. He pushes up onto his elbows and I slide out from under him, going to grab a box of tissues from across the room so Zeke can wipe himself off.
When he’s clean, he pulls his boxers and jeans back up over his hips and zips his fly, leaving the button undone. He runs a hand through his tousled, blond hair. “So, uh. Wow. Okay, things took a turn there. You okay if we try this again a different night—talking to you, I mean?”
It takes me a second to realize he’s talking to the ghost—not me. The ghost must have nodded or something, because Zeke says, “Perfect. I’ll come back later. And thanks—by the way. You’re good.”
He looks back to me. “She’s gone.”
“That fast? She just hit it and quit it?”
Zeke winks at me. “Maybe it’s ’cause I didn’t win the 12-inch dick award.”
“Stop it,” I snort. “You’re working with way more than enough.”
Because he is. He definitely is.
At this, Zeke laughs. “Oh, I know. I’m just messing with you, hot stuff. But really, I think she’s lonely. And horny. Nothing wrong with that.”
“No,” I agree as I get up to turn on the light. I sit back down on the rug. “Nothing wrong with that.”
Zeke shields his eyes from the light, studying me. “And what about you? Not horny?”
God. Why did I have to turn the lights back on? I can already feel myself blushing.
“I don’t know,” I say. “I mean—yes. Yes, that got me going. But like… you’re Lydia’s fiancé’s little brother. And I didn’t really know what you meant by crazier, and it’s been a long time since anyone, like, used their mouth on—”
“Wait, wait, wait,” Zeke says, cutting me off mid-sentence. “You mean not since your divorce, right? God, I hope that’s what you mean.”
“Um… No, Patrick wasn’t really—”
“Fuck Patrick,” Zeke says loudly. “That asshole was married to you—this—this bombshell—and he wasn’t routinely eating your pussy? Glad you got rid of him.”
“Well, that wasn’t why, but…”
“Whatever. One more reason.”
That makes me laugh. “Great. I’ll write it down.”
We’re quiet a moment, both content to stare at each other from our respective spots on the floor.
I’m still reeling from what just happened.
It feels like something’s been cracked open, stripped back.
Like the masks have come off or something.
And neither of us knows what to say, but we’re not shying away from it, either.
Finally I ask the question I’ve been dying to know the answer to. “What does it feel like?”
Zeke leans back, setting one elbow on the coffee table. “What? Getting a blow job from a ghost?
“Yeah.”
He thinks for a moment. “Mm. It’s hard to explain, and it probably sounds weird, but it’s cold. Like, it’s slick and warm like a human person’s mouth, but it’s… cold.”
“To be honest, that doesn’t sound very enjoyable.”
Zeke laughs. “Yeah, I’m not doing it justice. But it’s great—it really is.”
“Better than getting blown by a human?”
“Nope,” Zeke says, holding my gaze.
And that’s what does it. After everything that’s happened tonight, it’s that pointed ice-blue gaze of his, like he’s looking straight into me, that gets me way too flustered.
I get to my feet, glancing at the spirit board still spread across the coffee table and the snuffed-out candles, soft and tacky with dripping wax.
“I should probably finish up some stuff for work,” I announce. “You can stop by the boutique in the morning to give a final check to the alterations.”
“Sure. Will do.”
Zeke stands, too, and carries the candlesticks back to the mantel. He runs a hand through his hair, clearly a nervous tic of his.
“So, uh, since that went kind of… sideways… can we figure out a different time to film? I’ve only got a couple weeks left until the deadline. I was also kind of thinking maybe we could do some research before then? Try to figure out who this girl is…?”
“Definitely,” I say. “I’ll see what I can dig up.”
Zeke packs up his tripod and walks with me to the front door.
As we stand on the step, trying to figure out how the hell to say good night after having the kind of evening we just had together, Zeke looks at me like he wants to say something.
But he doesn’t. He just twirls his keys around one finger, looking out at the moonlit lake.
Finally, he turns back to me and just says, “Later.”
I watch him bound across the darkened lawn, making his way to the cabin.
There’s a part of me that wants to go after him—but I don’t.
After Zeke heads inside and the lights flip on, I turn back to the living room.
The spirit board is still spread across the coffee table.
Gingerly, I fold it up, carry it to the kitchen, and set it out of sight on the far corner of the counter.
I’ll text Zeke and let him know he left it.
God knows he probably won’t even notice.
I touch the pendant hanging around my neck. I wonder how much Zeke does notice. I wonder if he noticed how turned on I was. How clear it was that I wanted him. And how could I not? The comfort and command he so obviously displayed in such a crazy situation was hot as hell.
Somehow I can let loose with Zeke while still feeling safe, and that fact alone drives me wild. There’s a strange, wistful fluttering in my chest when I think about it.
Because I can’t help thinking I should’ve gotten a little crazier.