A Breath of Magic

by Tracy Madison

  He laced his fingers in my hair as he groaned. I lifted my chin enough so he could see into my eyes as I chewed. As I swallowed. As I licked my lips. And then I went for more. He muttered a curse. “You really are going to kill me tonight.”

  “That would be a pity.” My lips wrapped around the banana again, and I took in another mouthful. I scooted myself backward a bit more. Nearly lying flat, my breasts tight against his thighs, my chin pressed into his groin, I used my tongue to retrieve the remaining fruit. Then, very slowly and very efficiently, I licked all leftover residue from his belly. His muscles tightened and released over and over and over again. My nipples hardened and fire pulsated in my blood.

  “Enough,” he said, his voice thick. “I can’t stand any more of this.”

  Twisting my neck so my cheek rested on the hard angle of his hip, I looked into his eyes and licked my lips again. “The game is over. Want to go watch a movie? Or leave?” I inhaled a long, deep, deliberate breath. “Or would you, perhaps, like to leap on me?”

  He growled and grasped me, pulling my body up, up, up until my lips hovered above his. “I want you.” His eyes searched my face for confirmation. I nodded, and in one swift move he rolled us over so that he was on top. The kiss, when it came, was hungry and hard. His tongue invaded my mouth almost desperately, as if what he found there was the one and only thing he desired. I moaned as his hands slipped inside my panties, squeezing my butt and then traveling up to my hips, up to my waist, where he grabbed on, holding me close.

  I ground against him as we kissed, enjoying the feel of him, savoring the sensations our touching bodies elicited. A sigh whispered out of me as he moved his lips to my ear and then to my neck, seizing my throat in an explosion of suckling and kissing, of tasting and exploring. One hand left my waist, skating up my body, until he found the ribbon that bound my negligee.

  “I’ve wanted this off of you from the second you opened your door,” he said.

  “Then by all means, take it off,” I whispered.

  One quick tug and the loosely tied bow came undone. His mouth found my right breast, and he teased my nipple with his tongue before shifting to my left breast. I gasped in pleasure as a series of shivers coursed through me. His tongue moved between my breasts, igniting new fires along my skin until he reached my belly button. His hands found my bottom again, and he pushed me up tight against him. He groaned when I shoved my hips harder, when I pressed myself as close to him as I could, when I gyrated against him.

  “Take. Them. Off,” I whispered, ready to feel him, all of him, against me, on me, inside of me.

  With one hand, he dipped a finger into my panties and yanked them down. For a few seconds, trying to remove this damn scrap of fabric that kept me away from him, I felt as if I were all leg, like a newborn colt. But finally they were off and instantly forgotten.

  He dragged his eyes from my face to my breasts and down, then back up, locking his gaze with mine. “You’re stunning, Chloe. I’m—”

  “Shh. Just kiss me,” I whispered. “Kiss me, Ben.”

  His lips came back, but this time the kiss was slow and intoxicating, as if he were putting his mark on me, as if he were making me his. Every muscle, every nerve, every bit that made me who I was tensed and released, relaxed and stiffened, yearned for and desired this man. My man.

  I jerked at his boxers. “Now, you. Please.”

  Again we did the shimmy, the always-somewhat-awkward dance of pulling and tugging and removing. His erection pushed and throbbed against my stomach, his eyes were the darkest I’d ever seen them, far more black than blue, and his hands…well, they were simply everywhere.

  “Condom? Tell me you have some, Red, because I—”

  “Top drawer, left side.”

  He nodded, shifting his body even as I spoke, reached into the drawer and came back with a foil-wrapped condom. Using his teeth, he ripped the packaging off and rolled the condom on. “Are you ready?”

  “Yes.”

  He spread my thighs open with his hands and then slid his finger inside, feeling my wetness, feeling my desire. My muscles tightened, heat and pleasure and want thrumming through me. “Are you ready?” he asked again.

  “Y-yes.”

  His pushed another finger inside and rubbed both in slow, heavy circles. I thrust forward, pushing them deeper in, perspiration slick on my face, on my body. I rolled my bottom lip between my teeth as he took me closer, closer, closer to

  the edge.

  “Are you ready?” he asked for the third time.

  “Yes! P-please.” The words shuddered out of me.

  Pulling free his fingers, he pushed my legs up and toward me with his hands. My stomach clenched from need, my legs trembled from want. His eyes focused on mine, staring into me, seeing me as no man ever had. His hips pushed forward, the feel of him right there, right where I wanted him, and then, with one deep thrust, he entered me.

  He groaned in that guttural way that speaks of absolute pleasure, absolute satisfaction. With both hands on his butt, I pushed him in deeper and harder, and I moaned as my body accepted him. Reveled in him, even. Letting go of my legs, he touched my breasts, rubbing his thumbs over my nipples, making me moan even more. I gasped as pleasure swirled in fast and heady. I wrapped my legs around him tight and ground my hips against his, over and over and over.

  He picked up my tempo and thrust harder, his eyes never leaving mine. This, without a doubt, was the most intimate moment of my life. I pushed a breath out, pulled one back in, and then, when I thought I couldn’t handle it any longer, when I was sure I was just going to flat-out die from the over-load of emotions and sensations wrestling through me, I came, in a tingling, mind-numbing, all-consuming blast of pure energy.

  “That’s my girl,” Ben whispered. Another thrust and his body tightened, stilling inside of me, above me, as he groaned. His eyes closed and the muscles in his cheeks flinched, the line of his jaw hardened as he held himself for one second…two seconds…three seconds, and then a long, slow tremble overtook him. I tightened my legs around him, watching as he reached the place he’d already brought me to. The beauty of him—of this moment—stole the last breath I had from my chest.

  He crumpled against me, wrapped me up in his arms and, with his lips on my ear, said, “Good God, Chloe. This…you…Never in my life.” His voice was rough, ragged and more than a little shocked. Capturing me in a tighter hold, he murmured again, “Never in my life.”

  “Me neither,” I whispered, snuggling into his embrace. “Me neither.”

  I whipped the sheets off of the bed late the next morning while Ben showered. I’d already had my shower, as Ben insisted I go first. His original plan had been for us to shower together, which would have been lovely on all counts except for the fact that two people in my tiny shower would be far more awkward than erotic.

  My entire body hummed with the aftereffects of his touches. I liked this. I could definitely get used to it. Grinning, I picked up the condom wrappers from the floor—four, to be exact—and tossed them into the trash. Three from last night, and one from this morning. Sex with Ben, by the way, beat the pants off of “mindboggling.”

  I’d just finished remaking the bed when a towel-wrapped Ben entered the room. Everything inside of me softened and heated up simultaneously. “You’re so freaking sexy. How’d I get so lucky to meet up with you?” I asked.

  “I was just thinking the same thing.” He came to me and kissed me lightly on the lips. “We need to talk. There’s something I’ve decided to tell you.”

  Oh, God, was this going to be another I’m-not-a-relationship-type-of-guy speech? Rather than saying that, though, I nodded. But everything inside of me hollowed out, terrified and sick at the thought. “Okay, sure. What…um…do you want to talk about?”

  He grabbed his clothes from the dresser, sat on the edge of my bed and looked up at me. “This is difficult, and not something I’d planned on talking to you about.” His face drained of color. “But I want yo
u to know.” He swallowed heavily. “I want to tell you about my family. You asked me the other day if I was married.”

  My heart stopped. “You said you weren’t!” But then I realized he hadn’t exactly said that. No, what he had done was skirt the issue by asking me if I’d go out with a married man.

  “Tell me you’re not married,” I whispered, dropping onto the bed next to him. “I don’t think I’ll be able to forgive you if you are. Not after last night. Not after this morning.”

  “Look at me, Chloe.” I did, and he stroked my hair. “I’m not married now, but I was, to a woman named Sara. We had a child together. A daughter.”

  “Oh! That’s okay, that’s fine. I love kids!” A huge amount of relief slid in, extinguishing the panic that had begun to build. A kid? I could handle a kid. No problem.

  His Adam’s apple moved with another swallow. The darkness from the day at the amusement park returned. Without knowing why, I put my hand on his bare knee, trying to offer him comfort. Pulling his wallet out of his pants pocket, he flipped it open and removed a picture. “This is Sara and Rissa, taken almost three years ago.”

  I accepted the photo and looked, curiosity about the woman he’d married forcing my eyes to her picture first. She was a long, lithe and very pretty blonde. My gaze then moved to the figure next to her, to Ben’s daughter.

  Goose bumps came in a rush of awareness. I brought the photo closer, squinting my eyes, thinking I must have lost my mind, thinking I was wrong. I had to be wrong. Because this was no child staring back at me, but a teenager. A girl with long blonde hair, a turned-up nose and strangely light sky blue eyes. Mari.

  My Mari. Or rather, Ben’s Mari.

  “Did Sara get full custody or something?” I asked, every part of me totally fixated on the girl in the photo, on the help she claimed to need. On the help that only I could give her.

  “No.” Distress and agony weighted his voice. “Marissa and Sara died in a car accident a little over two years ago.”

  The walls closed in. I couldn’t breathe. I tried to put my head between my knees to stave off the dizziness. But all I heard were Ben’s words echoing in my head. Marissa. Car accident. Over two years ago. My mind latched on to his statement, to all that it meant, to the look on Mari’s face when she’d pleaded with me for help. To the image, the two beams of light, the screams. To the light behind her, glowing upon her in an iridescent way. Like Miranda.

  Mari was dead? A…ghost?

  The room spun faster, and the dizziness took over, swallowing me away.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Fifteen minutes later, a fully-clothed Ben sat next to me on the sofa. I stared at him, not sure what to say, still in complete and utter shock. The universe was playing some sort of huge cosmic joke on me.

  “You’re sure you’re not sick?” Ben asked. He reached over and felt my forehead. “No fever. That’s good.”

  “Nope, not sick. I’m sorry for scaring you. I think…um…my blood sugar dropped or something.” I sipped the orange juice Ben had brought. Rather than helping, the citric acid made my stomach churn all that much more. “H-how did they die?”

  “As I said, a car accident. Rissa was driving, practicing for her driver’s exam later that week.” Grief and anger thinned his face, accentuating the planes of his cheeks and jaw. “I was supposed to take her out but got held up at work, so Sara did it.”

  “A c-car accident?” I’d almost forgotten that part of the revelation, what with all of my energy focused on Mari being Ben’s daughter and, apparently, a ghost. Another round of lightheadedness forced me to gulp more juice. “My parents died in a car accident when I was twelve.”

  His eyes softened. “I’m sorry to hear that, Red. That must have been horrifying for you.”

  “It was. Still is, sometimes. But I had my sister, and we had an aunt who took us in. Not the same as losing a child, though. That’s”—I closed my eyes and inhaled a breath—“incomprehensible. That sort of loss…Well, I…I’m just so very sorry.”

  “But you understand how this feels—waking up one morning to a completely normal day and then having everything drop out from beneath you.”

  “Yes. I do understand that.” Too well, actually. “Do you know what happened? What caused the accident?”

  His shoulders lifted in a heavy shrug. “From what they could tell, Marissa took a turn too fast and lost control. They think she overcompensated, veered into oncoming traffic.” He grimaced and my heart ached for his pain, for his loss. “She slammed into a truck. Sara…wasn’t wearing her seat belt. She died instantly. Rissa hung on for a few days.”

  “Oh, Ben. I’m so sorry. So very sorry.” I flinched at the pain in his voice, but also at a bit of comprehension: the scarcely seen image of two beams of light must have been the oncoming headlights of that truck. I squirmed again.

  “It just doesn’t make sense. Marissa was a careful driver. We spent a lot of time on the road, and she took to driving easily. And Sara always wore her seat belt.”

  Okay, so something had altered their normal behavior. But what? I remembered the desperate whirl of emotions I’d experienced the last time his daughter visited. “What…um…type of girl was Mari? Was she happy?”

  He gave me an odd look. “I’ve never heard anyone but her girlfriends call her Mari. She was always Marissa or Rissa to Sara and me. But yes, she was as happy as any other teenage girl. Some days more than others.”

  I downed the rest of my orange juice and set the glass on the end table. Mari hadn’t been happy at the time of her accident, and she wasn’t happy now. But I didn’t know how to say that, how to explain to Ben that his daughter was somehow still around, looking for some type of help. “I’m sorry,” I repeated. “I can’t begin to imagine how difficult this has been for you.”

  “Listen. I didn’t tell you about my family to make you feel bad. I wanted to be honest. I wanted you to know why I acted the way I did at the amusement park.” Shifting slightly, he laid his hand on my shoulder. Weirdly, it seemed as if he was comforting me. “I was there the summer before Rissa’s accident. We were there together. It was a yearly thing for us. She’s the person who told me why Ferris wheels are ‘the scariest ride ever.’ You would have liked her, Red.”

  “I’m sure I would’ve.” I breathed deeply, hoping to calm the swirl of nausea in my stomach. “I didn’t know…I wouldn’t have taken you there if—”

  “Of course you didn’t know. How could you? But I meant what I said the other day. I’m glad I went back, and I’m glad you were with me.” He smiled sadly. “Being there helped me remember so many things about Marissa, things I hadn’t thought about in a long time. So, thank you. You actually gave me a gift.”

  I opened my mouth, all set to just get the truth out there, knowing he deserved it said and hoping he’d listen, believe and understand. But before I could form my confession, a strange sensation overtook me. Goose bumps rose, an icy cold tingle sped down my backbone, and every hair on the back of my neck stood up. And then I saw her. Mari.

  She stood on the other side of her father, looking every bit as solid as he did, and a deep, heartbreaking sadness emanated from her. Tears sparkled in her eyes as she shook her head. She held a finger to her lips and then, quick as a blink, she faded away in a ripple of colors. Again, I was reminded of Miranda. I wondered why I hadn’t recognized the similarity before.

  I swallowed as a new round of shock whipped through me. Mari wanted help but didn’t want me to tell her father about her?

  “Are you sure you’re feeling better?” Ben’s concerned voice cut in. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

  A hyenalike laugh erupted from me. “I’m…um…just feeling a little overwhelmed.”

  He mumbled a curse. “I’m sorry for dumping all of this on you. You want some fun and games, not all of this baggage.” In a jerky movement, he combed his fingers through his hair. “Not what you expected from a rebound guy, huh?”

  I held back a sigh an
d returned my focus to him. “No, that’s not it. I’m just so very sad for you. And I want you to be able to tell me things.” Deciding to go for some modicum of the truth, I stroked his cheek. “Can we put this ‘rebound’ stuff away somewhere? Whatever we are, we are. I like you and I enjoy being with you. And when you say that stuff…it sort of eats in and makes me a little crazy.”

  A shroud of stress filtered over him. Grasping my hand, he squeezed. “I like you too, Red. Last night was wonderful and I loved every minute of it. We just don’t know each other all that well and I can’t—won’t—make you any promises. I need you to understand that.” His expression became even grimmer. “I don’t know what any of this means. But after last night, keeping my family from you seemed wrong. I hope you can understand where I’m coming from.”

  “I totally do. And I’m glad you trusted me enough to tell me.” Maybe he hadn’t said exactly what I wanted to hear, but I’d accept it. For now. One day at a time and all that. “And I’m not asking for any promises. Just be you.”

  He sighed in relief. “I can do that.”

  I cleared my throat and pushed forward, intent on gathering more information. “You…um…must have been fairly young when Mar…Marissa was born.”

  If my change of subject surprised him, he didn’t show any sign. Instead, he simply nodded. “We were. Sara was eighteen, just finishing up her first year of nursing school, and I was nineteen, in my second year of premed. When we found out she was pregnant, we married immediately.” He blinked, lost in his memories. “That’s when I switched majors, knowing that with a family I couldn’t devote the years it would take to become a doctor.”

  “Were you happy? You and Sara?” I asked the question with the full realization that I didn’t truly have a right. But I had to understand. And Mari’s comments about her mother’s sadness and her own anger refused to leave my brain. “I just mean…well, if you married that young…”