Chapter 19
NINETEEN | COLTEN
It’s only eight-thirty, and two hours of sweat cling to my neck. The sun pelts my back with its weak morning rays, tensing my body more than it has been as I walk up the yard leading from my cabin to the back door of the main house.
There’s dirt lodged into the cracks of my hands, the smell of burnt wood gripping my clothes. I got up earlier than usual, deciding to take out my frustration on the piles of dead branches I’ve stacked up in the various plots of apple trees over the last few weeks.
Glancing up at Taryn’s window towering above me, the blue sky dotted with clouds reflects off the glass.
My fists clench at my sides. Last night was…I don’t even know what words to use.
I’m fucking pissed at her.
Fucking hot for her.
And completely and utterly fucked because I can’t touch her. And if I do, once won’t be enough.
I left the curtains in my office open on purpose last night, knowing my little ghost would be watching me as she has every night from the moment she arrived.
She’s so curious, and she hates herself for it. I knew Taryn was watching me, though I initially didn’t acknowledge her. Her gaze dragged across my skin like her eyes were the flame to a match, burning me alive and turning me animalistic.
Britt faded away, and the only thing consuming my thoughts was Taryn in her room—her body needy and pussy dripping from me taunting her.
I expected her to be a good little ghost and observe as I claimed Britt’s throat.
But then I smashed Britt against the window, and my resolve faltered.
There Taryn was, standing in the window, exactly like I knew she would be.
We stared at each other for a few minutes while she stood in nothing but that damn towel.
Of course, the moment I closed my eyes for a second, I opened them to see her standing completely naked.
It caught me off guard, but she was playing me just like I was playing her. Her hands floated over her perky breasts, and when she held her middle and ring fingers up to her mouth, I knew what was about to happen.
Her mischievous smile and disobedience were bringing me closer and closer to coming, my thrusting into Britt quickening.
When I shook my head to tell her no, to not touch herself, I expected she’d push back.
A part of me wanted her to.
What I didn’t anticipate happening was to come the exact second she inserted her fingers into her cunt.
That has never happened before. I take my time with sex—drag it out and edge them on until they are begging me to let them come. But Taryn was so distracting and making me fucking savage. And that moan that escaped Taryn’s lips when her jaw dropped, and she thrust her fingers inside her—
Goddamn.
I couldn’t hear the noise, but I felt it as if the current transferred through the bones of the house, across the yard, and through the floor straight to my throbbing cock.
Britt thought it was her doing—that I couldn’t hold myself back.
It wasn’t her. It was the ghost in the attic taunting me, her little parting gift, her glistening middle finger.
I’m losing control around her, so I tried overworking myself first thing this morning. But every time she crossed my mind, the hurricane in my chest raged, and my dick hardened when her naked body crossed my vision.
I open the back door, welcomed by a blast of cool air against my burning skin. Walking through the hallway to the foyer, I listen for voices, but it’s quiet.
Too quiet.
I saunter past the staircase and take a right into the kitchen.
Immediately, I see Tristan and Elena sitting at the dining table in front of a set of arched windows with a view of the expansive circular driveway.
Elena hums happily as she dips her spoon into her cereal bowl while Tristan eats his and plays the Switch at the same time.
They are accompanied by a few of Elena’s stuffed animals placed in the other chairs.
She does that when Cam, Bren, and I can’t have breakfast with them. Not a morning goes by where seeing our seats filled doesn’t bother me. But two other people are missing from the table.
I wander to the coffeepot, take a mug out of the cabinet above, and pour a glass, observing as my two younger siblings immerse themselves in their sugary breakfast.
By themselves.
They shouldn’t be alone.
I approach Elena and press my lips to her hair like I do every morning if I can return to the house. “Where’s Miss Taryn?”
Her response is immediate. “Running,” Elena says innocently with a mouthful of cereal.
My muscles tauten.
I tilt my head, clenching my jaw. “Miss Taryn is running?”
Elena scoops up a spoonful of fruit loops and bobs her head. “She wanted to go on a run. She said to eat my cereal while she’s gone, and then we’ll play with my stuffed animals when she gets back.”
Adrenaline shoots through my bloodstream, reaching a dangerous level. “Where is Jess?”
She shoves a spoonful in her mouth. “Sleeping,” she answers around the silverware.
My focus finds Tristan, who is flicking around a couple of Honey Nut Cheerios floating on the surface of his milk.
“Did she take Rossco, Tristan?” I ask.
He nods.
“When did she leave?” I push harder.
He shrugs. It’s always simple reactions and answers from him. “A little while ago.”
I doubt the twins know since they left around six this morning for a meeting at the packaging headquarters located off the property.
Whipping out my phone, I navigate to our tracking app for her microchip.
The little blue dot slowly moves across the screen, down the long driveway.
She’s near the big bend in the road near the cliff—the mile mark for the orchard before it drops to the Columbia below—where it continues through the forest to the front gate.
Fuck.
Looks like Little Ghost is finally going to receive her punishment from me for disobeying the rules. My hands itch in anticipation, but my cognizance reminds me why I shouldn’t touch her. It takes one taste—only one touch for an obsession to grow and eat away at you.
My features harden, and Elena scans my facial expression. “Is she in trouble?” she asks softly.
“You know how sometimes I say I’ll spank you if you aren’t listening or if you talk back?” She nods nervously. “Well, Miss Taryn isn’t listening.”
Her little blue eyes expand so large I’m afraid they’ll pop out and float in her cereal bowl.
I remove my truck keys from my pocket and point at Tristan. “You two stay here. I’ll be back.”
They both nod as I place my mug on the table and march out of the kitchen and through the hallway to the back door. Before I know it, I’m heading straight for my driveway, focusing on the black Ford I bought last year.
I climb in, not bothering with the seat belt as I throw it into reverse. When I get it turned around, I slam on the gas, taking the road around the hill and the side of the house where it intersects with the main driveway.
Dust billows behind me, the speedometer reaching thirty miles an hour, pushing the pulse in my neck even harder. My truck breaks through the threshold of the orchard, apple trees lining each side. My eyes are locked on the blue dot on the phone screen in my hand.
“When I find you, Little Ghost,” I growl, shaking my head as I get closer.
Then I see her. She’s in little black running shorts and a green fitted tank top that hugs her figure.
Her ponytail whips back and forth, almost matching the pace of her feet pounding into the gravel with each step.
Rossco runs ahead of her, and for a second, I think she’s too distracted to hear my truck barreling down the road, but then she looks over her shoulder and increases speed.
She’s in a full-out sprint now.
I slam on the gas and tug the wheel to the right, whipping the truck past Taryn.
One tire rolls off the side onto the grass, so I can safely get around her, but I also want to scare the shit out of her.
Once I’m past her and Rossco, I jerk back onto the road and slam on the brakes when I’m a safe enough distance in front, throwing it into park.
I can see where the plot of trees abruptly stops in front of the truck—the bend in the road a little farther on the cliffside.
I glance in the rearview mirror, clutching the wheel with my fists, and she stops. She places her hands on her hips, attempting to catch her breath. I throw the driver’s side door open and stalk toward her with pure irritation.
She walks backward in a pathetic attempt to avoid me. “Colten,” my name emerges breathlessly. “What are you doing?” She swallows, placing a hand on her chest. “How did you find me?”
I slant my head. “Running, Little Ghost?”
Her eyes dart between mine, her body tensing when I stand directly in front of her.
A bead of sweat cascades down her temple. “Yes,” she answers, and I arch a brow. Taryn shakes her head. “I mean, yes, but no. I am running, but I’m not running,” she huffs.
I point to her and then Rossco, who’s plopped down in the shade under one of the apple trees, panting away. “You just wanted to go on a run?” I question disbelievingly. “Had a little energy you needed to run off?”
She crosses one arm over the other. “As a matter of fact, yes. And you’re to blame.” She gestures to me.
“Why am I to blame?” I counter.
She rolls her eyes and licks her bottom lip. “You know why. You aren’t a saint, Colten. You intentionally left those drapes wide open!”
“And you stood there watching as I spread her wide open, Little Ghost.”
Taryn’s jaw pops. “I saw you wrap your belt around her neck. I was watching to make sure you didn’t choke the poor girl to death!
After all, you have a very questionable track record with women.
” Her fingernail taps against one of my pecs, my heart thrashing at her touch.
“For all I know, you keep your curtains closed so I can’t see all the corpses from your visitors every night scattered around the floor. ”
I smirk. Nice try, but I know you stand there observing to catch when they leave. My mysterious activities have piqued her interest.
My arms fold across my chest, her gaze falling from my eyes to my biceps, where the decaying leaves transform into crow feathers on my forearm. Her fingertips drum into her thigh as if she’s trying not to touch me.
“So, you’re telling me you don’t stand at that window and watch them leave after I’m finished with them every night?”
She takes a step toward me. “Doesn’t mean you don’t have some stuffed in your closet to use later,” she banters.
The sunlight glistens off the sheen of moisture coating her skin, my eyes locking on a drop gliding down the valley of her breasts in that tight tank top. I bet they taste as good as they look.
“I prefer my women very much alive and begging to be fucked,” I reply honestly.
Her lips part just as the breeze blows a strand of her brown hair across them. I’m unsure if the breeze or my words cause her to shudder, but I hope it’s the latter.
I take another step toward her, forcing her breasts to clash against my chest. I lower my tone, brushing my fingers across her jawline.
Did you like watching? “Did seeing me fuck her make you wet?” Her erratic breathing hitches, making my cock twitch.
“Did you crawl under those covers and finish what you started with your fingers?”
She slaps my hand away with hers. “Yep,” she pops the P. A corner of her mouth lifts mischievously. “And the entire time, I thought about your twin brothers,” she says dryly.
That one response from her fucking mouth is like a missile straight to the wall I built.
Red-hot fury flows through my veins, detonating any ounce of self-control I have.
The memory of her smart mouth in my office and what I said I’d do if she talked to me like that again has me swiftly throwing her five-foot-something frame over my shoulder.
She keeps belting my name and squirming in my hold, but my rough hand smacking her ass shuts her up.
She weighs the same as a sack of apples. But I’d bet my soul to the devil that Little Ghost probably tastes sweeter.