by Susan Conley
She relaxed when she finally heard his footfalls.
He smiled when he found her sitting cross–legged in the middle of his bed, wrapped only in the sheet.
Chelsea sprang from the bed and flew into his open arms.
“I could get used to this kind of welcome.” His arms squeezed around her tighter. “How did it go today?” Brad’s hands wandered over her soft flesh; where his fingers traveled, tingles followed.
“Honestly, it scared the hell out of me.” She turned in his arms. “It was more than I expected, but I feel like there’s so much more that I need to know … . and so much more we need to talk about.” She pulled him from the room.
Chelsea told him most of what Rowena had relayed, but she left out the part where Rowena read her touch. Some of it was too personal, and some of it she didn’t want to reveal yet — it made her too uncomfortable, too vulnerable. She took his hand and walked him around the house, the sheet flowing out around her like a Roman toga. She showed him where the herbs were hidden, some in plain sight. But wherever the small bundles rested, it brought an unequaled peace to that part of the house.
Brad sank down on the sofa, and drew Chelsea down beside him, she fidgeted beside him. “So, what’s left?” He watched her eyes. “What do we need to talk about?” The rest of the house was quiet, their heads close together, gently whispering.
“Are you hungry? Grams left a plate in the oven.” She brushed her lips along his jawline.
“I am, but if you keep that up, and it won’t be food I’ll be craving.” He smiled at her near nakedness, and she disentangled her body from his, dragging him along with her. She needed to let him go, but that didn’t mean she wanted to stop touching him or that they couldn’t share the night.
“Food first, talk later.” Chelsea led him to the kitchen and pushed him into a chair. She turned the stove to warm, then settled between his long legs to lean against his chest, his arms wrapped loosely around her middle.
He rested his chin on her shoulder. “So talk. I’ll listen.” His lips played with her earlobe, which made it difficult to concentrate.
“Stop, or I won’t be able to talk.” She squirmed with a laugh, and rubbed her shoulder against his chin.
“Seriously,” he held her more securely, “what’s the matter?”
“I don’t want to interfere in your life.” She couldn’t bear to look him in the eyes, because if she did, she’d never say the words. “I’ve taken it over, you’re living at my home, you have to drive forty-five minutes just to go into your office.”
He grew quiet as he listened to her rehearsed speech.
“I don’t want you to resent me.” She shrugged her small shoulders, made smaller by his presence. A single tear slowly trailed down the curve of her cheek.
He lifted her from his lap, and turned her around to face him, his stormy hazel eyes catching the glistening trail left by the lone tear. “Don’t you know why I’m here? It’s not out of responsibility. It’s not because of some obligation. I’m here because this is where I need to be, right now, at this time. I meant it when I said you were mine. I won’t have it any other way.”
The oven beeped, and Chelsea stood and removed the plate. “I don’t want you to look back someday and think you wasted your time on some crazy lady, because, these days, that’s what I’m starting to believe. I’m totally one hundred percent certifiable.”
He watched her for a few moments before a grinned creased his face, and he barked a laugh that brought a smile to Chelsea’s lips. “The only time I think you’re nuts is when you try to scare me off, or when you try to reason why you are the way you are. You really will drive yourself crazy thinking about that.” He pulled her back down onto his lap, buried his hands in her hair and drew her face closer to his so they were almost nose to nose. “I don’t want to be anywhere else. Okay?”
“Are you sure?” She worried her bottom lip “I mean, I want you here, but … ”
Brad pulled her in to meet his lips in a hard kiss, stopping her breath, stopping her words, swallowed by need.
• • •
“Peter Wallace was a farmer. You already knew that having done … well … whatever you do when you see a ghost.” Brad pulled the plate closer to him, and took a bite. His eyes drifted to where Chelsea stood — he could make a meal of her right here and now. But first he wanted to share what he’d found out about the old farmhouse, and the family that used to live there. “What was really strange to find was that he and his wife Helen died in a car crash forty years ago, not a half-mile from their home, right on that same stretch of road where we stopped. An overfilled grain truck pulled into traffic and on top of their car. Their car was mangled, they died instantly.” He remembered the photos, nothing he wanted to see twice.
“Huh … that is strange. I thought his wife was … well, you know … living. He didn’t seem to know she was gone. She paused. “I’m not going back there.”
Brad glanced across the table at her. “I thought you were getting into helping … the ghosts.” It was hard for him to think of ghosts as real. In fact, he still had serious doubts.
“Peter Wallace … ” She rolled the name off her tongue. “He didn’t feel right when he approached me, and for a minute, I could have sworn … ” She bit off what she was going to say. “It’s craziness or nonsense, I don’t know.” She heaved a tired sigh. “He tried to touch me three different times.” She rubbed her arms. “They can’t help it, they’re drawn to the light and warmth of my body. I understand that now, but he wouldn’t stop until I let my fingers brush his. He tried to linger, and it seemed like he grew stronger for a moment when he made contact with my skin. When he did, I felt a wave of exhaustion hit me, like nothing I’d ever experienced before.”
“So, what? Do you think he was, I don’t know, trying to steal some of your warmth?” He gazed at Chelsea and saw the fear that exploded in her eyes.
She stumbled back across the floor, the look of terror washed over her features. “No, it’s not possible!”
Chapter Thirty-Two
Brad jumped up from the table as Chelsea began backing further away, as tears poured from the deep blueness of her eyes. Her back hit the fridge, and she slid to the floor in a messy heap, knees drawn up to her chin, twisted in the sheet, her whole body vibrating with fear.
“Chels?” He stepped closer, but she back further away, squeezing closer to the cool surface of the refrigerator. He squatted down on the floor. “Chelsea? Baby, tell me what’s wrong. Talk to me, sweetheart.” Brad’s voice contained a new softness, he reached out, his fingers brushing her arm.
Chelsea sat, shivering on the cold hard floor, her hands shaking as she tried to rub the remembered touch of the old farmer away. She kept whispering, “No! No!” Her eyes lost their focus.
The Nevernever had found a way into her living world. It wasn’t possible, or it shouldn’t be. They would be coming after her now, Rowena was right. They’d taken a taste, and they wanted more.
How do you stop the Nevernever when it can sneak in to your life?
Before she started screaming, Brad wrapped her in the strength and warmth of his embrace. He lifted her, carrying her back to the table, and sat down where he held her trembling body.
His heart pounded against hers, sharing her frenetic need. “It’ll be okay, Chels, it’ll be okay. We’ll find a way … .” His arms folded themselves tighter around her body, but she shivered harder.
“You … you … don’t know. They’re here.” She bunched her hands in his shirt, burying her face in his chest. The rows of spiky teeth, the open maw created by its mouth, the way it pulled in her warmth, sucking it out of her body, the exhaustion left by its presence. It was all enough to drive a sane person crazy, and she was well past the point of no return, ready to fall into the endless abyss of insanity. At this point, she welcomed
it; anything was better than her reality.
She sat up straighter and clutched his hands. “You have to promise me … promise me that if I tell you not to come back, you won’t. If I ask you to take Grams back to her house, you’ll stay with her, watch over her. I’m afraid. If they can’t get me, they might try for anyone I’m close to. I can’t risk you, either of you.” She remembered Rowena’s words.
“It’s not going to come to that. We’ll find a way, we’ll figure this out.” He rocked her, rubbing her back in slow easy circles.
“Promise me.” Chelsea became adamant, determined to hear his oath.
“I promise,” he said quietly, but his eyes said differently.
• • •
For the next two days, the ghosts stayed away, the nightmares were held at bay. Life returned to normal — or as normal as it had been since Chelsea electrocuted herself in the shower — with one new addition: Brad. He became her silent strength, when she wanted to hide, he forced her to face the daylight. At night, he made sure the monsters stayed in their fairytales. Only, it really wasn’t true, anyway, was it? The monsters did exist, and if Chelsea wasn’t careful, they’d get her.
On the third day, all hell broke loose, and it had nothing to do with ghosts, the Inbetween, or the Nevernever. It was Grams, tired of walking on eggshells. “I said to get your ass in gear. We’re going shopping,” she yelled down the hall, while Brad smirked from across the room.
“You put her up to this!” Chelsea whispered, her eyebrows drawn together. She just wanted to be left alone, to hide in her room. Maybe if she stopped disturbing the force or whatever the hell it was, it would quit messing with her too.
“I didn’t,” Brad said, “all I said was you needed to get some fresh air, a change of scenery. Maybe change out of your sweatpants, and that t-shirt … we can probably burn the t-shirt.” He raised his eyebrow as he plucked at the offending shirt.
She stared down at the Beatles t-shirt. Abbey Road was her favorite album. “Don’t even think about it! It’s my favorite! Besides, a little soap and water and it’ll be fine,” she said, and she realized they were both right — a little soap and water, and maybe she’d be fine, or at least feel better.
She couldn’t hide from the world. Sooner or later, it would come looking for her anyway. “Fine! I’ll get out of the house. I haven’t been to the mall in a while. And you can go to your office, check on Sally. You haven’t been in a few days, she’s going to forget what you look like.” Already she was starting to feel like her old self, and she stuck out her tongue. Then she laughed, and grinned back at him.
• • •
She and Grams hit all the stores and Chelsea decided she’d been overreacting. Brad deserved some time to do his job and Grams deserved to be treated to a girls’ day out. Neither of them should have to put up with Chelsea’s sorry attitude.
They grabbed lunch at the café and decided to make appointments for manicures.
“Sorry, Grams, I’ve been a giant pain!” Chelsea said as they waited for their manis.
“It’s okay, sweetie, but just so you know, payback’s a bitch.” Grams grinned. “And I have the photo albums to do it.”
“Don’t you dare!” Chelsea threatened, but she smiled and knew she was loved.
She bought a new T-shirt to replace the one Brad threatened to burn. At Victoria’s Secret, she twisted and turned in the mirror. “Oh, these are cute, but … a lot more of me is showing than is covered.” Embarrassed, she regarded her reflection in the mirror before deciding it was worth the extra money.
As they climbed back into Chelsea’s little car, she turned to Grams and hugged her. “Thanks, I needed someone to force me to face the world. If I could stand up to Julie Martin in second grade, I don’t need to hide now.”
Grams hugged her back, and chuckled. “Better thank that boyfriend of yours. He cares more than you think, little girl.” She patted Chelsea’s cheek.
Hildie was waiting for Grams when they got back. “Oh, I forgot to tell you, Hildie and I are going to the movies, then we’re having pizza. I’ll be home sometime tomorrow.” Grams grinned at Chelsea, waving her fingers as she walked out to Hildie’s car. “Maybe you and Brad can have a date night too.”
“Yeah, maybe.” Chelsea returned her smile and waved to Hildie and Grams, watching them leave. “I think I know just what we need.”
Chapter Thirty-Three
When Brad returned to the house, he found it dark, the only light coming from fragrant candles. Lavender votives covered the mantle, flickering pale flames. “Come and find me,” a scrap of a note said.
The trail led up the stairs to the bath, where more candles flickered as he heard the quiet sounds of water lapping in the whirlpool, soft music playing in the background. He pushed the door open to find Chelsea, almost asleep, her head nodding with the force the bubbles made by the whirlpool. “Hi,” Brad called softly, and her droopy eyelids opened and she smiled up at him.
“Want to join me?” She held out a soapy hand, inviting him.
He went down on his knees beside the tub and picked up a cloth, squeezing out orange bath gel. The fragrant scent filled the space, and he reached into the water. He lifted one shapely leg, and leisurely washed in small circles up and down, then the other, finally kissing her toes. “Is there room for two?”
The water splashed as he sank in behind her, and steam gathered around them. He lifted her head to rest against his chest. “Did you have fun shopping today?” She slipped further into the water and he rested his cheek on the top of her head for a moment. “You needed to get out of the house and your Grams needed to spend some time with you.”
She reached up behind her and tugged his face down as she twisted up, kissing him full on the lips. “It was great, just what we both needed. Thank you for suggesting it. And you’re right, I’ve been letting my fears control me, it won’t happen again.”
“That’s my girl.”
His hands found her arm, and repeated the small circles with the cloth, leaning her forward to wash her back, then he cupped the water to wash away the suds.
She turned to face him, and held out her hand. “My turn.” She wiggled her fingers for the cloth.
She came up on her knees, her breasts glistening in the soft light of the flickering flames, water dripping from the rosy tips of her nipples. She rubbed the cloth across his flesh, his eyes never leaving the glowing orbs while her nimble fingers worked their way all over his body.
When she leaned up to pour water over the soap, his hands captured her slippery waist, pulling her teasing breasts in close, and he tasted her ruby rosettes, taunting him with their softness, with their perkiness. He teased and tugged them, hardening the rosettes with his tongue. A moan escaped her lips. His fingers worked their way across her slick flesh, and slipped inside her.
His lips tugged on her tender peaks as his fingers moved in and out of her wet folds, finding the small bud of sensitive flesh. He watched as the first waves of pleasure flowed through her body, and she caught his hand to slow his movements.
“I think I’m finished here, are you finished?” she murmured.
“Almost … ” But he continued his exploration.
When her body quaked with the waves of release, he captured her hand, wrapping it around his maleness; it throbbed with its own need.
He brought his hand up to wander along her jawline — his fingertips rubbed her full lower lip with its cherry ripeness — and he leaned forward, drawing her down to him until he could capture her lips in a hard kiss. “I’m only getting started. It might take me all night to finish here.” He smiled, and his lips went back to her rosettes, but his eyes never left her lower lip, watching it quiver with growing need.
She pulled him in closer to her body, watched him with her fevered eyes, and stole one last quick kiss before stand
ing, water splashing from her body. She offered him her hand. Together they stepped out of the tub, letting the bubbles drain away, and she led him down the hall where more candles filled her bedroom and their moist bodies gleamed in the wavering light. On a small table, chocolate covered strawberries and sweet white wine waited for them. Chelsea lifted a glass to sip and offered it to his lips. He pushed the glass away — instead he tasted the wine from her lips with his own. He held the glass once more to her lips, and she drank, then he sipped greedily at her lips. She bit the end of a ripened berry, juice dripped down her chin, and he leaned down to lick the droplets away.
“The best part of the berry.” He smiled, and took it from her hand and rubbed the juice over her rosettes, and licked them clean. “I’ve never eaten strawberries this way before, I wonder why?” He brushed the pulp of the fruit over her buds, then bent to steal the sweetness again. The juice trailed toward the vee between her thighs, his tongue founds those tiny beads too. He pulled her back toward the bed. Chelsea finished the strawberry with the juice of the ripe berry clinging to her lips. His tongue flicked out and captured the droplets before they could fall.
Chelsea fingered one of the multi-colored condoms, glimpsing him from between her lashes.
“Come here,” his deep voice rumbled, his eyes feasting on her body, and she stepped closer, her hand finding his hardness, rolling the condom over and around him.
He closed his eyes for a moment, his body throbbing with every heartbeat. His hand closed around hers, moving back and forth, mimicking the movement of their bodies when they came together. His length grew harder still, until he was close to bursting.
He pushed her back onto the bed, and she guided him to her soft center, the tip hovering over her opening.
“Please, I want to feel you inside me.” Her eyes became a sea, and he fell, lost inside her oceanic depths as he pushed to fill her soft core. His fingers brushed over sensitive peaks, eliciting a muted groan. He pushed deeper, her body moving with his, encasing his manhood.
