“Come on out, buddy. It’s okay,” I say. “There aren’t any ghosts here.”
Tri sniffs the air, then patrols the apartment. It’s nothing but business underneath all his triangles and behind that Hitler mustache. I can see it in his serious olive eyes and the rigid stand of his tail. I follow close behind and fling salt into every cupboard I see just in case another ghost decides to crawl out with a wicked life force craving. Salt has just become the number one most sacred item. Never mind quarters.
Once I’ve salted every cupboard in the kitchen, Ian takes a wet towel and sponges off the blood from my neck with one hand resting on my hip. I take the opposite corner to wash the cuts on his face.
“You’re going to have to take your sweatshirt off,” I say, doing my best to sound clinical.
He grins. “You first.”
I lift an eyebrow. “I thought you liked your clothes on me.”
“I changed my mind.” His fingers dig ever so slightly into my hip. “They look awful. And how else am I going to clean up all that blood that’s run down your neck?”
“Hmm.” I bite back a smile. My heartbeat speeds at where this is going. The throbbing ache inside me multiplies. I lift the sweatshirt, along with my T-shirt, slowly over my bare breasts and head, enjoying the slight tremble that rolls over my skin with the fabric.
He slides his gaze over my naked torso. The blazing need in his eyes burns a flush through my skin. He takes his shirt off in a hurry. He’s been sculpted from granite, rock-hard but smooth. The cuts on his chest aren’t as bad as his face, but I nurse them anyway. While I wash them, his hands explore my torso, grazing my back, skimming the sides of my breasts with his thumbs. Heat floods to my core at his touch. My breaths come in pants and my eyes sink closed.
“You’re gorgeous,” he murmurs.
I say something unintelligible, but what I really want to do is not talk at all. Screw my emotional baggage. Ian’s already proved he’s worth the risk, and I can’t take this ache anymore. I slip my hand up behind his head, pulling him forward. He doesn’t need any more of an invitation. He dips his head down, mouth parted and ready. I’m caught in the hungry pull of his eyes before he sweeps his lips over mine. That alone steals the breath from my lungs.
He kisses me again with a touch more force, and I drink him in deep to savor his sweet taste. I slide my other hand around his head, urging him on. His short hair scrapes over my palms. He flicks his tongue across my lip, and we both sigh into each other’s mouths, as though this is where we’ve always wanted to be.
I close my eyes at the rush of his mouth and the feel of his skin. He drops a trail of kisses down my neck, which draws a moan through my lips. His skin stretches warm and smooth over his muscles and into the dip of his backbone. I gently scratch my nails up the length of it. He groans and brings his lips to mine again.
His kisses are even more urgent. Our breathing becomes erratic. My body is responding in full, and I press against him as hard as I can so he can feel the heat spreading through me.
He pulls away. His eyes are closed, and his chest heaves. “Alexis.”
“What?” I breathe. His touch still hums over my skin even though he stands a foot away.
“I’ve wanted to do that since the first day of lab.” He grins.
I peer at him under the fringes of my bangs. “Me, too. And more.” My face burns, but it’s the truth.
He comes closer and presses a kiss to the corner of my mouth. “Me, too,” he says against my lips.
I loop my arms around him again. His kisses paint a glaze over my brain, leaving me more than a little cloudy. It has to be his mouth doing this and not a possible concussion. Head injuries don’t leave me breathless and pining for more.
He moves his body so I’m wedged between the counter and him. His growing interest presses against my thigh, and I squirm against his heat. He heaves a low groan that vibrates through his chest into mine. I can’t help but smile at the way my body affects him. It makes me feel bold, more so than I ever have. I scoot my butt up on the countertop so I can wrap my legs around his waist and rock my hips against him.
“Oh my God, Alexis.” He brings his mouth to my breast, and his circling tongue almost drives me over the edge. I push against him, tuck my fingers into his waistband, and lead him to the bedroom. We’re doing this whether he likes it or not, but I’m sure he will. I want him and not just for his body. I want all of him.
Trust threads between us as we scatter each other’s wet clothes on the way. He’s not going anywhere—I feel it in the way he’s looking at me, eyes filled with warmth and awe underneath his need. Once a condom is rolled on, he’s inside me, coaxing the ache between my legs to explode into relieved bliss. Just like the bottle cap, I dance under Ian’s expert touch until his deep thrusts push me into rippling, toe-curling ecstasy. It doesn’t take long, and eventually he’s there, too, sighing my name into my hair. We collapse back on the pillows, our heavy pants filling the room.
Ian weaves his fingers through mine and brings them to his lips. “Amazing,” he breathes.
I curl myself into him and press a kiss to his shoulder. Our bodies fit together so well. We should’ve been together long ago. “Ian? I’ll definitely go out with you, and it’s not just the great sex afterglow that’s talking, either. Or the fact that you saved Tri.”
At the mention of his name, Tri leaps onto the foot of the bed. He sniffs around, then settles himself between our feet for bath time.
“It’s also not the fact that I got a higher grade than you in chemistry.” This makes Ian laugh, and he pokes me lightly in the ribs. “It’s because you’re an absolute sweetheart.”
He turns on his side and skims the hair from my face. “My mom raised me right.” He grimaces, and I can guess at what he’s thinking.
“I’m sure your mom raised both of you right.” I slide my hand over his chest as if I can somehow piece together his broken heart. “Your sister just made bad choices.”
“Yeah.” He nods and glides his fingertips up and down my arm.
Tri shoots to his feet and stiffens. His gaze is aimed out the open bedroom door. The hair along his back bristles.
One glance at Ian, and we’re both untangling ourselves from the blankets and each other. We stand on either side of the bed, both of us completely naked, ticking our eyes from Tri to the doorway. Adrenaline pumps my blood faster until it roars inside my head.
It can’t be Reagan again. The salt got rid of her. The three of us wait, unmoving. Seconds pass. My heart drums.
Tri springs off the bed and races down the hall. Ian and I are right behind him. Tri stops at the bathroom and crouches low. He spits a menacing growl and slinks backward.
The cupboard below the sink is open. The one cupboard I forgot to salt.
“We’re leaving.” I slam the bathroom door and scoop up Tri.
We fly out the door barely dressed with our few necessities and then we’re driving away. When we’re parked in front of a hotel that I’m pretty sure accepts pets, Ian lifts Tri’s cat carrier from the backseat.
“No more Heartland Apartments. Hell, no more apartments period,” he says, holding my gaze over the trunk of the car. “Deal?”
I readjust the bag over my shoulder to pat my pocket with the salt inside for the hundredth time since we left. “But Reagan…or somebody entered a cupboard in your apartment, not just number twenty-six. What if it goes after someone else?”
“We could board up the laundry room since that’s where it seems to start. We can knock on every door and tell people to stock up on salt if they want to live there. We’re never going back inside that laundry room, though. I don’t care that our clothes are still down there.” He circles the car and holds his hand out to me.
I take it with a smile. “Deal.”
“Next time, we can go to the Laundromat. I hear they have a quarter machine.”
He catches my laugh with a kiss.
Acknowledgments
; The following people deserve copious amounts of hugs and chocolate because of their help and support with this story:
Gabe and Jesse for being my inspiration for Ian and Tri.
Lisa Sills, my fantastic critique partner.
My parents, who nurtured the dark corners of my imagination just as they did the bright, fluffy parts.
The entire Entangled crew for taking a chance on me, but especially my editors, Kaleen Harding and Libby Murphy. You ladies are brilliant. Thank you.
About the Author
Lindsey R. Loucks works as a school librarian in rural Kansas. When she’s not discussing books with anyone who will listen, she’s dreaming up her own stories. Eventually her brain gives out, and she’ll play hide-and-seek with her cat, put herself in a chocolate-induced coma, or watch scary movies alone in the dark to reenergize.
She’s been with her significant other for almost two decades.
Check out her website for more information and to contact her. She would love to hear from you! http://www.lindseyrloucks.com
Haunted Chemistry Page 4
