He kissed the side of her neck, lingering enough to leave a mark, then made his way up to her ear. As he nipped at her earlobe, her nerves lit up again.
He wrapped his arms around her, one hand lifting and kneading her breast and the other delving between her legs as he rocked his hips against her, rubbing his shaft on her backside.
The jets were lined up to hit all sorts of interesting parts of her anatomy. He shifted her again so they alternated between massaging her breasts and bouncing off the hand that shielded her most sensitive spot. When he moved his hand away, the intense stimulation almost set her off immediately.
“Garrett…”
“I know.”
He bent down and grabbed the shower stool just outside the sprays of water, sliding it close. He ran his hand down the back of her thigh, then lifted her leg to rest her foot on the stool, opening her further to the jets. She gasped as the pleasure increased.
He reached for her again, kneading one breast while he lined himself up at her core with his other hand. Slowly, he inched himself inside, moving his hands to her hips as he slid all the way home.
Feeling her core tighten around him, his hips flush against her backside and his hands gripping her as the water pounded against her… Her head snapped back as her body started pulsing around him, so many sources of stimuli, she couldn’t keep up with where the pleasure was coming from.
He held her up as she reached out to the cool tile, resting her hands against it to support her. She was still throbbing when he started to move.
The water was merciless, massaging her breasts and where they were joined as Garrett thrust into her over and over again. He would pull out almost all the way, moving slowly, then ram himself back in. He ran one hand over her raised leg, shifting her to reach deeper, to move faster without making her lose her balance.
Heat built in her, a diffuse inferno that ran beneath her skin like lava. He thrust faster, harder, his hands finding both breasts and holding them, using them to pull her tight against his chest, her back plastered to him.
She shifted her arms so that she only needed one to keep her propped up against the wall, wrapping the other around his neck and twisting so she could kiss him. He groaned against her mouth as her tongue slid into his. His pace increased, his shaft pulsing within her.
Her climax tore through her body, heat running over her skin. She had to be radiating light, so much energy coursed through her body. Even her eyes were tingling by the time he slid from her body and moved her from the jets.
He turned her around so that the water hit her back, his strong hands rubbing her shoulders as she leaned against his chest. She had never felt more relaxed or at peace. She had never felt as safe.
“Thank you,” she whispered, her body yearning for his big bed and some sleep.
He held her tight. “Any time.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
Waking up next to Rachel the next day was one of the happiest experiences of Garrett’s life. He couldn’t keep himself from smiling.
Her legs were tangled with his, one arm sprawled over his chest and the other folded against his side. She was as close to him as she could get and he loved it. Of course, his own arms were wrapped around her, holding her tight even as he slept.
He was never going to let her go again. He wouldn’t have to.
His arms flexed around her and he kissed the top of her head. She let out a contented sigh.
“Morning,” she mumbled.
“Good morning.”
She yawned and nuzzled his chest. “I’m starving. Want some eggs?”
“Sounds like you need more sleep. Why don’t I go make us breakfast?”
“Because then you won’t be with me.” She rose on her elbows to kiss him, erasing his thoughts of breakfast. But then she slid to the edge of the bed and stood. With a smile, she said, “Come on. Let’s go.”
Rachel standing naked in front of him—yeah, he’d go wherever she wanted. As he rose, she went to his closet and pulled out two T-shirts. She tossed one to him and put on the other.
“If we’re going to be cooking, we probably shouldn’t be naked.”
“Good point.”
He pulled the shirt over his head, then grabbed a pair of pajama pants from his dresser and put them on. Rachel waited for him—she didn’t take off to get started on breakfast.
She took his hand when he reached the door, but he pulled her close instead of walking to the kitchen. He bent down and brushed his lips across hers, satin-soft and sweeter than honey.
After a good long while, he leaned back to see her eyes half-shut and her breathing quickened. He would have walked them right back into the bedroom, but her stomach growled. They both laughed at the sound.
“Sorry. My stomach is very opinionated.”
“I’m the one stalling breakfast. Let’s go.”
They worked side-by-side in his kitchen, bumping into each other or at least brushing elbows often. No words were necessary. She made the eggs, he made toast and coffee.
As they ate at the counter, they kept smiling at each other. He felt ridiculous—like he was a kid again, free-falling into that first love. Rachel wasn’t his first, though. She was his last.
“I was thinking about the house,” he said.
“The one we’re going to fill with all those children?” The way she smiled as she spoke made his heart fill with warmth.
“That’s the one. I was thinking we could build on a solarium, sort of like what Elsa has, only more detached. If ghosts are going to keep pestering you, we might as well make a sort of waiting room so we can deal with them on our terms.”
“‘Our’ terms?”
“Partners in everything. I’m sure as hell not going to leave you to deal with this alone.”
“I’m not sure how much you can do.”
“Just because I’m not psychic doesn’t mean I can’t help.” He would damned sure find a way. “I can make poppets, spray saltwater…look menacing.”
She laughed at that, and he felt his smile deepen. His cheeks hurt, he’d been smiling so much.
“And I have resources,” he said. “My friend Finn is a private investigator. You need to dig up facts on anybody who comes to you for help, he’s your guy.”
“Are you sure he’d be okay helping out a psychic?”
Garrett laughed and shook his head. Finn’s secrets weren’t Garrett’s to tell, but the irony of her question was too much.
“He’ll be fine with it. And he’ll be more help than you can imagine. Finn’s the best.”
“A PI would be extremely helpful in many cases, I imagine. Tracking down descendents or lost items. Those are the main requests I get hit with. The ghosts want me to tell someone something or get something to a particular person.”
“Why was Hiram hanging around?”
“‘Scientific curiosity’. That’s what he always said.” Her smile softened as she spoke about him. “He wasn’t done learning about this life when he passed on. He was the exception rather than the rule, though.”
“I’m glad you had somebody to help you with all this.”
“Me too.”
“Speaking of helpful spirits, what about Misha?”
“What about him?”
“Do you think he might be helpful? Kind of act as an intermediary for you?”
That gorgeous smile of hers vanished, her eyes crinkling at the edges and the slightest line appearing between her eyebrows. She took a breath and held it, mouth open like she was on the brink of saying something. Something he was not going to like.
“What?”
“I…don’t think Misha will be much help. I think he needs help. Closure of some kind. I haven’t figured out what, though.”
“I thought Hiram sent him to watch over you.”
“That’s what Mis
ha said. But ghosts sometimes lie. And they talk to each other. He could have asked around, found someone who knew about my friendship with Hiram when I was a child.”
Garrett’s stomach soured. The idea of an entire network of ghosts using their knowledge to manipulate people… No wonder she had stopped listening to spirits.
“We’re putting mirrors in the solarium. Lots of them.” At least if she could see them, she would have a better idea of who she was talking to.
“That’s…a really good idea.”
Her gaze shifted from him, her demeanor intensifying. Her mind was carrying her away on that tangent. She was probably designing the room already.
“Do you have any idea what Misha wants then?” Garrett asked, bringing her back to the more immediate issue.
“I’m not sure.” The pain and hesitance crept back into her expression. “But I don’t think he’s who he says he is. For one thing, he’s younger than I thought.”
Garrett’s skin felt electrified. “He isn’t… It can’t be Michael, can it?”
“No, Michael was cremated.”
She didn’t seem as convinced as she had been. If it was Michael and he had somehow found a way to harass Rachel from beyond the grave, Garrett would find a way to make him pay.
“He mentioned Dylan,” she said. “Before you did. He said you had a brother who died.”
How would a ghost know anything about Dylan? He’d been gone for thirty years. Misha might have asked around about Garrett, but why would he? Unless…
Garrett’s heart started to pound.
“Wait, you don’t think—”
She didn’t have to say anything to give him his answer. The way her brow pulled together above her nose, how she leaned toward him as if ready to put her arms around him, to hold him together…
Yeah. She thought it might be Dylan.
Garrett’s eggs threatened to come back up.
Imagining dead people hanging around was unnerving enough—serial killers or not. But Dylan couldn’t be among them. He couldn’t.
Garrett dropped his fork and pushed away his plate, then covered his face with his hands, leaning his elbows on the counter. His skin prickled, a sensation of warmth surrounding him like Rachel’s arms.
But she wasn’t touching him.
Her arms wrapped around him, giving the feeling a source. After-the-fact.
He dropped his hands so he could look at her. “What was that?”
“What was what?”
“I felt you touch me before it happened.”
She started to pull away, but he caught her arms and kept them on his shoulders.
“Please don’t,” he said. “Don’t pull away. Not now.”
He needed her. Especially now that he knew Dylan might still be around—might have been lingering since his death decades ago. If so, Garrett had to help his brother find peace.
She took a deep breath, then let it out. Warmth washed over Garrett again, taking the edge off his pain and worry. She grasped one of his hands and pressed it against her chest just above her heart, then placed her free hand in the same place on him.
What he felt was indescribable. His mind still tried to put it into words.
Peace, happiness, contentment, hope, excitement—a kaleidoscope of emotions poured through him. He could feel his own emotions connecting to her and traveling through her as well, like they had closed a circuit by opening their hearts to each other.
He covered the hand she rested above his heart with his other hand. “What is this?”
“I’m not sure. It’s kind of new to me. But if I had to guess, I’d say it’s some sort of empathy.”
“Is it part of your power?”
“I don’t know. It’s never happened before.”
“When did you first notice it?” Damn, he sounded like he was starting an exam.
“It started after the snake in the garage.”
Dread crashed through him, but even that ebbed quickly. “It’s not because of…” He swallowed hard. “Dylan, is it?”
“Not directly. I think it was triggered by how upset you were and how much I wanted to help you feel better.”
“So this is another thing you can do.”
“Apparently.”
It would probably come in handy when helping out ghosts. Starting with his brother.
The pain and guilt of it tore through him again. Rachel was right there, carrying it with him, easing his burden.
“Don’t,” Garrett said. “You don’t have to do that for me.”
“I know. But I want to. This is what you’ve done for me since we met. Helping me to feel less alone, more at peace with myself. This connection has always been there, I think. We’re only just now exploring it.”
He couldn’t deny that. Since the first time their gazes met, he had felt it deep in his gut, in his soul. She was the one for him.
“What are we going to do about it?” he asked.
“I guess see where it takes us.”
He wanted to see where it could take Dylan, how it could help him. With it being an unknown, a new power, Garrett wasn’t sure how safe it would be for Rachel, though. He didn’t like the idea of her using any kind of empathic ability to connect with an unknown ghost.
“It’s okay,” she said. “You’ll be right there with me.”
“What, can you read my mind now? Because then we might be in trouble.”
She gave a light laugh and said, “No, I could feel you worrying. And I can feel you wanting to act. We can see if I can help Misha, whoever he is. We can try to find out if he’s Dylan.”
Her voice trailed off at the end. She must have been waiting for another spike of dread or fear or guilt. But they were all overpowered by the one prevailing emotion he felt in that moment. Gratitude.
This gorgeous, generous woman was willing to walk into a situation that a few days ago would have terrified her, just on the chance that it was Garrett’s brother. She wasn’t running away from him. She was walking at his side, as a partner.
He didn’t feel like he was out on a limb with her anymore. It was more like they were standing on a bridge that they were building together, one that would lead wherever they wanted it to go.
“That is…heady,” she said.
“It’s what I’ve always felt for you.”
“I’m sorry I made you wait so long.”
He shook his head. “It was worth it.”
“If we aren’t heading back to the bedroom now, we might want to try to tone this down.”
The bedroom sounded really good. But if Misha was Dylan, Garrett couldn’t let that go for another moment.
“What do we do?”
Rachel took a deep breath and closed her eyes. The warmth he felt from her lessened, but was still there. She moved their hands away from each other’s chests, letting out a long, steady exhale. The feeling of connection faded till it was just a tingling along his skin, a calmness in his heart.
“Did that work?” she asked.
“You’re the psychic. You tell me.”
“I think that’s as good as we can do with toning down the connection for now. Come on. Let’s go talk to Misha.”
Garrett was still nervous as hell, but he nodded and stood. She grasped his hand again and led him to the guest room.
Chapter Twenty-Six
It was hard to believe she was doing this. Willingly opening herself up to a ghost to help them. After everything she’d been through, the sacrifices she’d made to get them to leave her alone…
None of that mattered. Word was out about her abilities anyway. If Misha really was Dylan, she had to help him for Garrett’s sake. But that wasn’t her only reason.
She wanted to help Misha. Whoever he was. She wanted to help all the spirits that needed her and were aware enough t
o come to her for aid. First Misha, then the spirits of Michael’s victims that were haranguing her.
If her mother had raised her in her family’s traditions, this wouldn’t have even been an issue. She would have been protected as a child and trained in how to use her powers. She would have been helping spirits for years by now.
Looking back wouldn’t help anyone. She needed to be looking forward. To a future with Garrett. Embracing her abilities and exploring them more, honing her skills. She had the book knowledge. It was time to start putting it into a deeper practice.
“When we go into the room, be careful not to disturb the line of salt that’s over the threshold.” She pointed at the barrier she had made earlier.
“I thought spraying the door with saltwater was enough.”
“Since there’s already so much salt around in Florida, it generally is, but I wanted to be sure no one could get into the rest of the house. I left the door open and took the wards down from the window. With the window and the mirror, there are too many access points in there.”
“The mirror is an access point?”
“Reflections are a link between this plane and the next. Mirrors are powerful enough that they can be used as doorways from the other side. They magnify and focus spiritual energy.”
She hadn’t talked to anyone about it since she was a little girl. When all of this was over, she was going to have a long conversation with Chloe and rekindle that relationship. In the meantime, she had to try to explain this better to Garrett.
“Ghosts can move around like people through doorways. That’s the easiest way for them to get around. I think it’s because that’s what’s most familiar to them from when they were alive. But they can also sort of teleport to different places by willing themselves to go there, especially the ones who are focused or have been around a long time and have lots of practice. They still need something to connect to. Either a person or a place they’re familiar with. Hence hauntings.”
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