by Bex Dane
I pretend to be sleeping and enjoy her ass grinding on my dick for a good minute because I know if she finds out I'm awake, I'll have to separate from her. She wanted to be scared, right? Who am I to stop her fun.
Wiggle. Wiggle.
Fuck.
She has to feel me getting hard through my jeans. If she keeps squirming, I'm gonna come in my pants like a teenage boy. I have to stop her before that happens.
"Uh." My voice is gravelly and I have to clear my throat. "You okay?"
My hand flat on her back helps stabilize her but she's still sitting directly over my hard cock. "I heard a noise. It sounded like the faucet running or the shower curtain. I don't know."
"Let's go look."
She's holding her camera and her thermometer like weapons. "No."
"C'mon. You came all this way. This is what we're here for. If there's a ghost. Let's go check it out."
She looks down at me with terrified eyes and nods. "Okay."
I lift her hips off my dick and I can breathe again. Holy fuck. She's warm and sexy. That was a challenge. The fact I've kissed her hot mouth and rutted up on her against the door makes me want to pound my fist into something, but I can't break anything in the room. Instead, I groan as I stand up and adjust my crotch. This is gonna be a long-ass night.
She doesn't move so I have to go first.
We turn on the bathroom light and there's nothing there. Big surprise.
"Did you run the shower?" she asks me.
"No."
"The curtain's open and the drain is wet."
She's right. The curtain is open. The drain is wet. "Wasn't me."
"I could swear it was dry when we got here."
I don't remember seeing it being open or wet before. "Maybe it leaks."
"But who opened the curtain?"
"Maybe you did it and forgot?"
"No, I didn't even look in the shower. I was too scared."
"You're a chicken shit little ghost hunter."
"Shut up. The camera's running. I'll have to edit that out."
Shit. All this recording and I didn't put it together that my voice would be on the video.
"I'm not scared." She's clearly trying to convince herself of this.
"Good. Then let's get the ghost on tape. Turn out the lights."
Her hand trembles as she slowly reaches out and flips the switch. The only light remaining comes from the candle in the other room and the blinking red light on her camera.
"Oh God. I'm shaking so bad." She sounds terrified. It's cute.
"If anyone comes after you, I'll slice 'em open."
She blows out a long breath. "Okay. If there is a spirit in this room, give us a sign."
We wait through about ten seconds of silence. C'mon, ghosts. Don't let her down.
"Sprits, did you run the water just now to show me you're here? If yes, can you do it again?" she asks like a pro. She's done this before.
There's nothing. Then one drip from the shower head.
She squeals. "Okay. Okay. Are you the spirit of the man who died in this room? If yes, give me a sign."
We wait and there's nothing. Then one loud knock sounds through the wall. She looks at me with wonder in her big beautiful eyes. The weird lights and reflections in the room play on her features. She's fucking gorgeous when she's excited and lit up.
We talk to the "ghost" for another hour before she starts yawning. We heard various random knocks and thuds that sometimes answered her yes or no questions and sometimes not.
"It's four-thirty in the morning, babe. Say goodnight to your ghost."
She smiles and looks satisfied like she's had some kind of spiritual experience. Again. Beautiful.
"Good night, spirit. Thank you for talking to me," she says sweetly before turning and walking back into the main room.
"Camera off?" I ask her.
"Yeah." She sets it down on the table.
"You get all you needed out of that?" I ask her. This is all bullshit to me, but she clearly gets something out of it, so I'm gonna support her.
"Yes. I wish I could stay up, but I'm exhausted." She rubs her eyes.
"You wanna sleep here or in your own bed?"
She glances at the bed then the door to the room. "We can sleep here. I paid for the whole night."
I nod and walk over to the uncomfortable couch. "You're not scared anymore?"
"No. I think spirits get a bad wrap." She pulls down the comforter on the bed. "They aren't demons. They were dealt an unfair deal in life and now they go around scaring people. Doesn't mean they're bad." She sits on the bed and unzips her boots.
I chuckle. "They're just misunderstood?"
"Yeah. No one is inherently bad. We're all just trying to get by."
I'm not sure about that one, but this isn't the time for debate. Cass clearly gives everyone a fair shake. Even dead people.
She looks back at the bathroom. "I'll just sleep in my clothes."
She crawls up on the bed and plops down on her stomach. Her batteries finally ran out.
The bed looks good but I promised her to keep my hands off, so I try to get comfortable on the mini-couch.
It's deathly quiet in the room. I hadn't noticed the rocking before, but the ship sways with the waves. The noises we were hearing in the bathroom have stopped.
Either her ghost knows she's sleeping or the room is rigged to stop making noise after the Devil's hour is over.
Knock.
Oh shit. Her ghost is back and wants to chat.
Knock. Knock.
I peek at her to see if she heard it.
Bang.
Damn. I felt the walls rattle with that one. This fucking ship. How does anyone sleep on it?
A big curvy warm ass lands on my crotch again. She's making noises from the back of her throat and biting her lip.
Wiggle. Wiggle.
"Did you hear that?" she whispers.
"It's a friendly ghost. You're fine. I got a knife in my pocket." And a raging boner but yeah…
"I'm not going back to that bed. I'm staying here." She bites her nails and shakes her head.
"You can't stay here," I say.
"Why not?"
I grab her hips and jam them down on my shaft.
"Oh."
Yeah. Now she's remembering there's a man in the room, not just a ghost. A man who's had a taste of her and is aching for more. A man who spent the whole night watching her ass be cute and is now fighting with all his might to avoid throwing her down and fucking her on the couch in the most haunted room on the Queen Mary.
"Um." She mumbles.
"Go back to the bed, Cass." I say it through clenched teeth because I don't want her to go.
"I'm scared." She doubles down on the lip biting at that doesn't help at all.
"Go back to the bed," I say more sternly. She's pushing the limits now.
"There was a loud slam," she says, like that is going to change my mind.
Time to tell her the truth. "I'm gonna be slamming you up against the wall in about five seconds and what you told me is you're protecting your heart because I'm dangerous, which is absolutely true. I'm telling you to watch over yourself, so we both agreed no contact. You came and put your sweet ass on my cock—twice—and now I can't be responsible for my actions."
"Oh." Her voice is quiet.
"Do me a favor and go back to the bed." I throw my head back and try not to look at her cute face as she realizes how she affects me.
She gets up slowly and I can't help but look up. I want to watch it on her face. Sweet. Funny. Beautiful.
"Okay. I'm uh, sorry. I didn't think. I shouldn't… You're right. We should…" She crawls back into the bed. Oh yeah, she has no clue how she affects me. I have to squeeze my dick till it hurts to tame it down. Control. I got it under control.
"Good night, Cass." I got it under control.
Shit.
"Night, Cutter."
Fuck.
***
We slept for five hours and woke up at nine-thirty a.m. when the ship made announcements for the day's events. I got up first and watched her snooze for a bit. She's a cool girl and I wish we could hang out more, but I can't. I want to fuck her way too bad. We can't be friends. She's made it clear she gets attached and her heart's fragile. That's a deadly combo for me. I can't be the gentle she needs.
"Hey, babe. Time to go."
She raises her head and scans the room with sleepy eyes. "Already?"
"Yeah. Pack your stuff."
"Okay."
She gets up and trudges around the room picking up her equipment, most of which we didn't use. She packs the Ouija board and crystal ball back into the drawer next to the bed.
"Cutter?"
"Yeah?" She needs to stop saying my name all cute because I like it too much.
Her hand rests on the bathroom door and she glances back at me.
"You scared of the ghost in the bathroom?"
"No!" she says, offended. "I'm just, uh, gonna leave the door open. Okay?"
"You want me to stand by the door?" I'm grinning now because she is funny as heck.
"Not unless you'd like to."
Ha! She enters the bathroom and leaves the door open a little bit. I guess I'll stand by the door because she didn't ask but it's clear she's scared. She smiles in the mirror when she moves to the sink and sees me standing outside the door. "Thanks."
"No problem."
She brushes her teeth and stares at the shower head the entire time. I poke my head in and check it for her. Yep. Still nothing there but a leaky shower. I've never spent so much time staring at a goddamn plumbing fixture. We pack up and head out to my truck.
One thing's for sure about Cass. She's not boring. She's bubbly, carefree, and positive in a way I could never be.
As we walk out into the harbor and back into real life, I catch myself smiling. Her enthusiasm slowly permeated my skin and wore down the rough layers there. She brought me up. I didn't feel threatened. I didn't feel the need to fight. I simply enjoyed watching her do her thing.
So whaddya know? I learned something from Cassiopeia.
Even if I never see her again after this, she's changed me. I've had a taste of something good and I liked it. Gives me hope I could find someone like her. If she wasn't so damn fragile and hell-bent on self-destruction, I could see myself promising her she could trust me. I'd be lying if I did it. I'm pretty sure I'd break her heart in the long run and break her spirit in the process. No. She needs to stay wild and ride her wave. I need to keep chasing mine too.
Chapter 12 Toxic
Cass
Gobsmacked by last night and the miracles that happened, we both sit somberly in the cab of Cutter's truck. First, I had an encounter that felt like the closest I've ever been to a real ghost. I know it could've been set up by the ship or perhaps they have incredibly bad plumbing, but it was awesome either way. If he was real, he was a good spirit. He wasn't a demon. Just misunderstood.
Another miracle, I spent the night with Cutter Twist and didn't sleep with him. Not even one kiss. Not that he didn't tempt me with his cool, calm, gorgeous, tall, funny, patient, enigmatic and comforting-to-be-around self.
All those temptations combined with his tremendously hard dick poking my butt cheeks, and I could have easily stripped down and done the horizontal mambo right there in front of my misunderstood ghost.
But one thing Cutter is not is open. The things he didn't say helped me find the strength to walk away from him last night.
He didn't say, Cass, I dig you. Will you be my girlfriend?
He didn't say he was looking for stability and true love which is a prerequisite now for me, and I refuse to risk my heart for less.
He didn't tell me why he's dangerous and I should stay away.
And he didn't give me any reason to believe that if I slept with him, he wouldn't turn on me in the morning, say adiós, and destroy my heart.
Even though I'm disappointed none of those things happened, I did learn more about him. He's an honorable man, and I'm lucky to have spent a night with him, even if my vow and his reticence dampened the excitement.
I'm glad I didn't go to the Queen Mary by myself. His presence made everything better.
So now we're rolling into LA, and I'm thinking this is my last chance to ask him the question that's been knocking in my brain like a woodpecker on an old oak tree. I know he probably won't answer me, but I need to put this out there.
"Why can't you tell me why you pretended to be Neil Ainsman?" I ask him with no preamble and nothing to provoke it except that our ride is coming to an end, and I may never see him again.
His hand that was resting casually on his thigh reaches up and grips the wheel as if we're about to run full-speed into a wall. He's quiet and chews his lip.
"Are you going to answer me?" I ask him.
"I'm thinking of what to say." His voice is tight. I've proded deep into a man who doesn't like to share.
"Say the truth. Always." Obviously. Duh. I know it's easier for me to tell the truth than other people, so I wait quietly until he's ready.
"I had reason to believe…" He speaks slowly and deliberately. "Arthur Morganstein's parties are not a safe place for a woman to be."
Oh. Not what I expected at all. "Why not?"
"You could get roofied and stuck alone in a room with a stranger?" His voice drips with snark as he glances over at me.
Okay. I get where he's coming from. "But how did you know it might happen?"
The traffic slows, and he hits the brakes harder than he needs to. My torso lurches forward, and I have to brace on the dashboard.
"Have you heard anything about Virginia's Secret models going missing?" he asks after I steady myself and we're almost standing still in traffic.
"No. My gosh."
"Well, three Virginia's Secret models have gone missing in the last month. I was looking into that." He suddenly finds the car to our left extremely riveting.
He was investigating Arthur Morganstein? "Why not say you're Cutter Twist?"
When he doesn't answer, I have to wonder if he's deciding whether to lie to me. I would hope that I've earned enough of his trust that he'd tell me the truth. Most people say they felt they could trust me when they first met me. I'm not sure if Cutter sees me that way, but it's something I've always been proud of.
"I had to be somebody to get the invitation. Neil Ainsmann is the son of a famous movie producer. He's actually living on an island with no connection to the outside world."
My mouth drops open as we exit the freeway and stop at a light. Pretending to be a celebrity's son to look into a potential kidnapping sounds extremely risky and dangerous.
"Arthur wouldn't know if I pretended to be Ainsman." He sounds defensive, but maybe that's because he knows his plan is flawed. "He's never met him or seen him. I'm using his name. That's all it takes to get invited to a party like that."
"What if somebody tells him?" I ask out loud what we're both thinking.
He frowns and his eyes narrow on me. "The only one who knows is you. You gonna tell?"
"No." I hold up my hands. I wouldn't do anything to hurt him like that. "Are you gonna do it again?" Now, I'm worried about him getting caught.
"Are you?" he counters in an accusing voice.
"Me? I wasn't pretending to be anyone I'm not."
"Are you going to another Arthur Morganstein party?"
I don't like his patronizing tone. What I choose to do is up to me. "I don't know. Maybe." It's really none of his business if I go back.
"You were drugged there." Again, he's making it sound like I did something wrong.
"Yeah, but we don't know who did it. It could've been you." That was a low blow, but he's pushing all my buttons.
"It wasn't me." He smacks the wheel with his palm and looks away from me to hide his anger. "I'm the one who got your ass out of there and brought you to Mila," he says through gritted teeth.
He's m
ad I'm fighting back. He has no say over me at all. He's going to go back up to his mountain with his family. My career decisions are mine alone, and I've done pretty darn good on my own so far.
The fight hovers in the air of the cab as we park in the lot behind my apartment. He stares out the front windshield, one hand draped over the steering wheel as he talks. "You shouldn't go to any more Morganstein parties." He has his voice under control, but his frustration simmers in the corners of it.
"I worked my butt off to get that invite," I say.
"Not worth getting roofied."
"That was a fluke. It won't happen again."
"You don't know that," he snaps at me. "If I hadn't been there, you'd have been raped or killed." He shakes his head like I'm stupid, but I'm not. There's no way I could've known about the drink. This is what I hate about him. He's so judgmental. Give me a damn break.
I'm not going to let him intimidate me. "I'm not giving up my shot at making it big. That was my first real Hollywood party. I could've made so many high-profile connections." I grab my bag and squeeze the strap tight. I can't wait to get out of his truck.
"Yeah, well, you hit the floor pretty early and started looking for an escape hatch."
My fingers are on the door handle, but I stop and look back at him. "I did?"
He nods and holds out his phone. "Put your number in."
Part of me wants to take his phone and toss it out the window, but another part of me is hoping he really cares about me and he wants my number to talk to me again. He might even ask me to go out with him again. We had so much fun last night. We could get over this little spat if we just calm down and talk it through. I enter my cell phone number and hand it back to him.
He sends me a text.
Cutter: Call me if you hear anything else from Morganstein.
See? There I go again assuming romantic interest when it's the farthest thing from his mind. We gather my gear and he helps me carry it to my door. He taps his foot while I find my keys. He sighs as he watches me work the lock. There is nothing wrong with my door. Sure, it could be stronger, but I feel safe inside and that's all that matters. Cutter is bugging me with all his judgments again. This is my life. He doesn't have to like it or accept it. He can leave anytime!
Inside, the first thing I see is Laith and Tash talking in the kitchen. Tash seems startled as she pulls her elbows in. Laith looks equally nervous as his eyes flit from me to the couch.
