A Ghostly Charm

by MJ Fredrick

  She tucked her hair behind her ear and winced when she touched cobwebs. She happened to look up, despite her determination not to, and saw sympathy in Mal’s eyes.

  “I’ll walk you to your room,” he said, softly.

  His sympathy was almost her undoing. Her exhaustion and confusion slammed together, and she didn’t know how she could muster the energy to make it to her room. She had no energy to keep her guard up around him.

  “I’m fine, thanks. Good night.”

  Chapter Four

  Maddy stepped out of the shower, her body languid from the pounding of the hot water. She sponged off the last of the water with her plush towel. She loved luxuries like that but didn’t expect to experience many more of them on this island.

  A soft knock sounded at the door. She glanced at the clock. Not yet ten. She went to the door, cursing the fact there wasn’t a chain or peephole, and drew it open enough to look out.

  Mal stood in the hall, head lowered, arms crossed. He tilted his head to the side, a glint of playfulness in his eyes. “Can I come in?”

  “Why?” The word popped out. Defensive.

  He quirked his eyebrow.

  “Mal, I just took my shower.” A lame excuse, but all her swirling thoughts could settle on.

  “Maddy.” He leaned his forearm on the doorjamb. “Let me in.”

  God help her, she was weak for a handsome man. She had to know why he was here, though she had a good idea. Despite her better judgment, she stepped back, opening the door. “No more secret passageways or crawlspaces, though.”

  “Not tonight, anyway.” He closed the door behind him and snaked his arm around her waist, pulling her close.

  “Weren’t we just here?” She tried to joke though her lungs constricted, the scent of him sliding into her, coating her mouth until she had to taste him.

  “Missed you,” he whispered, and tilted her chin up with his fingertips. His mouth brushed over hers, his lips slightly parted, slightly moist, before settling over her mouth, waiting for her response.

  Her arms were caught between them, her palms against his chest as she savored the play of his lips over hers, skilled, soft. She couldn’t stand his seduction any longer and parted for him.

  But he didn’t make his move right away, just kissed her, his fingertips toying in her hair. God, it was nice, the sense that he was savoring her, that he’d been thinking about this, about her.

  That he’d been anticipating it.

  She leaned into him, into his heat, and curled her fingers into his t-shirt. His tongue touched hers, just a gentle roll, so sexy. She angled her head to bring him deeper, but he clearly had a pace he wanted to set.

  She had to admire a man who could pace himself. It boded well for the activity to follow. As did the pulse of him low against her belly.

  He shifted his weight and her heartbeat tripped in anticipation but he only tightened his grip on her, holding her close and kissing her. Only kissing her.

  She’d forgotten how nice kissing was, and let herself relax to enjoy it.

  “You’re really good at this,” she whispered when he came up for air.

  He didn’t answer, only looked at her with those hooded eyes before kissing her again, his tongue moving deeper into her mouth. Shifting to the next gear, she slid her splayed fingers up the back of his neck and into his hair. But she didn’t try to guide him or hold him. She sifted his short hair through her fingers and let it tickle her palms, adding to the sensation. She was surrounded by him, enveloped by him.

  Crazy about him. After only a matter of hours. For the first time, his hands moved from her back to the front of her robe, twisting the tie around his hands. But he didn’t pull it. He waited, as if asking permission.

  Her pulse thundered in her ears. Did she want this, really? Her body did. Oh, God, did it. Every cell of her being throbbed to have his hands on her, his mouth, his body covering hers, beneath hers.

  And it wasn’t like she’d never had a one night stand before. But she didn’t like how they made her feel afterward. Would a night with Mal be any different?

  “You’re thinking,” he said against her jaw. “Stop thinking.”

  “I can’t.”

  He dragged his lips to her ear, the combination of whiskers and soft mouth bone melting. “You can’t stop thinking or you can’t let me do this?” He gave the robe tie a tug.

  “Thinking,” she said breathlessly.

  She actually felt him grin against her throat. “Okay.” He scraped his teeth over her earlobe. “I can take care of that.”

  “You can?” Her voice trembled. Every nerve his breath touched, his lips, his teeth, his stubble—God, his stubble—came to life. She tilted her head to allow him greater access.

  He chuckled and nipped the line of her throat, then dragged his chin along the sensitive skin. No doubt he could feel her knees give and the quiver of pleasure that ran through her. He pressed his lips to the pulse in her neck, then lingered there. She slid her hands down his shoulders to grip his sleeves and he shifted his hands from the front of her robe to her shoulders.

  He circled his thumbs on her shoulders, each stroke tugging the material apart as he eased his mouth down to the hollow of her throat. His thumbs brushed the bare skin of her clavicle.

  “Still thinking?”

  She couldn’t even form the word no, only made a garbled attempt. He inched the robe from her shoulders, kissed the still-damp skin he bared.

  “You smell so good,” he said, rubbing his lips back and forth over her shoulder. “Even in the passageway, you smelled so good.” He nipped the cap of her shoulder and she tightened her grip on him. Ever nerve hummed, every cell swam in anticipation. A fog enveloped her. He turned her, easing her toward the bed, and pushed the robe down a little more, holding it so it wouldn’t drop to the floor. She whispered his name and angled her head to find his mouth with hers. As they kissed, she slid her hands down his back and grabbed his t- shirt, dragging it up, then sliding her hands underneath.

  His skin was smooth and warm, firmly muscled. As his mouth played over hers, she let her fingers trail back down to the waistband of his jeans. He made a sound deep in his throat and dropped the robe. It hung between them for a minute, caught between their bodies, but he shifted to let it fall. The robe slid to pool at her feet, and she blushed under his appreciative gaze. He stripped off his own shirt and brought her close. She gasped at the skin to skin contact, and he lowered her to the bed.

  She only got an impression of his chest before he bent to kiss her again, smooth, more muscled than she was used to. She realized he hadn’t put his weight on her, was holding himself over her, his jean-clad thigh between hers, the denim rough and stimulating.

  “You’re thinking again.” He rose up on his elbow to look down at her. “Maddy.” He took her face between his thumb and forefinger, angled her face toward his.

  He really had beautiful eyes, hazel and rimmed with those thick, thick lashes. And instead of ogling her body, he was looking into her eyes, like he was connecting with her.

  She wondered how real that was.

  He bent and traced her lower lip between both of his, drew on it, traced his tongue over it before covering her mouth with his. As he deepened the kiss, he settled his hips against hers. She lifted into him, and his hand cradling her face slid down to the small of her back, holding her against him.

  He released her mouth, his breath coming heavily, then kissed a line down her throat, using his lips and teeth. Her heart pounded as he neared the tops of her breasts, which tightened in anticipation of his mouth.

  She heard a sigh off to the side of the bed, not from Mal. She whipped her head around, but saw nothing.

  “Did you hear that?” she asked.

  “Was you,” he murmured, rubbing his lips back and forth over the sensitized skin above the swell of her breasts.

  “No. It wasn’t.”

  He lifted his head to look at her, his eyes suddenly alert. “You sure?”r />
  “I’m sure.”

  He moved back up her body, covering hers with his but looking around the room. “Do you see anything?”

  “No.”

  “Are you sure? You want to stop?”

  “We should—”

  “Make love to me,” a soft female voice said.

  Mal ripped himself away and tossed the robe at Maddy, muttering something about Justin screwing with him before he flung open the door and looked up and down the hall.

  “Anything?” Maddy asked, coming up behind him, burying herself in the robe.

  “No.” He turned and froze. “Christ, Maddy!”

  “What?” She turned to see what he was staring at and caught sight of herself in the mirror.

  Only the reflection looking back at her was not her own. Her damp auburn hair was a billowy cloud of dark curls, tumbling over the shoulders of the robe. The eyes that stared into hers weren’t blue, but a deep chocolate brown. Her mouth was wider, her nose was longer, her skin paler, but marked with the effects of Mal’s stubble.

  She couldn’t scream, couldn’t breathe as she stared back at the face of the ghost bride, standing where she stood.

  Mal was the first to bolt into action. He snatched up his shirt, grabbed her arm, and dragged her out into the hall. “Are you all right?” he demanded, turning her to look at him. “Do you feel different?”

  “Is freaked out different?” she asked through numb lips.

  “Come on.” He tugged her down the hall to his room and opened the door.

  Mal shoved Maddy in front of the dresser, turned her toward the mirror. “Do you see her?”

  Her own face looked back at her. Relieved, she turned in his arms and buried her face against his throat, shaking and fighting tears. He held on, lowering his head, murmuring soothing sounds.

  “What the hell is going on?” Justin demanded from the doorway.

  Maddy jolted, almost bumping Mal in the chin. He tightened his embrace, holding out a hand to stall his friend. When he felt Maddy’s trembling recede, he murmured, “Was that her?”

  She nodded against his shoulder.

  “You saw her?” Justin asked, coming into the room and closing the door.

  “She was—Maddy.” Mal said, his own voice shaking. “We saw her in the mirror. Me and Maddy saw the bride, standing where Maddy should be, reflected in the mirror.”

  “You looked in the mirror-“ Justin said to clarify.

  “And saw her looking back at me.” Maddy eased back from Mal.

  “What were you doing?” Justin asked, the last word dying out as he looked from Mal’s bare chest to Maddy’s robe and mussed hair.

  “I heard her before I saw her,” Maddy said. “She sighed and said something.”

  “What?” Justin asked.

  Mal edged Maddy behind him. “She said, ‘Make love to me.’”

  “You heard her too?” Justin’s eyes widened. “Yeah.”

  “While you were—”

  “We didn’t get that far.” Mal pushed Maddy further behind him, not wanting Justin to speculate on anything regarding Maddy. “But yeah, I heard it too.” He caressed her arms through the terry robe. “I’ll go get your clothes. You stay here.”

  Her face went from ice pale to bright pink. “Mal—”

  “I’m not sending Justin to go through your underwear drawer, and I’m not leaving you alone. I’ll be right back.” He stroked his knuckles down her cheek and walked toward the door. He tugged his shirt over his head before he opened it and stepped into the hall. “Keep an eye on her,” he said, leaving Justin and Maddy in an uncomfortable silence.

  “Did you find anything?” she asked, tugging the robe tighter about herself and sitting on the very edge of Mal’s bed.

  Justin blinked. “What did you think I could have found in that amount of time?”

  She flung her hands up in frustration. “I don’t know. I don’t even know where to start. You’re the one who knows about this stuff.”

  “Yeah, well, I pretty much verified what we know about the houses and the ghosts who live there. I don’t know why this is happening, or how to stop it.”

  “Or why you should. Mal said the same thing. Why stop it? I mean, they’re ghosts. It’s not like they’re hurting anyone.”

  He scowled. “So just let them be?”

  “Wouldn’t that be better for business?”

  He hesitated when Mal came through the door.

  Mal twitched an eyebrow at her as he dropped her bag on the bed.

  “Did you bring all my stuff?”

  “You’re staying here tonight. If you want to get dressed, go right in there.” He motioned to the bathroom.

  Where the bride died.

  She slipped into the bathroom while Mal walked Justin to the door. She left the door open a crack while she dressed in her yoga pants and a tank top. She just couldn’t look in the mirror. If she saw the bride looking back at her now, she would panic, so she left the door open and didn’t look in the mirror.

  “Maddy? You okay?” Mal asked from outside the door.

  She pulled it open, took a deep breath and looked at him. “Is Justin gone?”

  “Yeah. Look, if you don’t want to stay here with me, I’ll see if you can bunk with one of the girls. I just don’t want you alone tonight.”

  She looked into his eyes, saw nothing but concern. He wasn’t playing with her. For the first time since she could remember, she made a choice to take comfort from a man. She took a slow step toward him, lifted her arms around his neck and turned her face into his throat. Just as slowly, he linked his hands behind her back. Once she was against him, he sighed, a quiet sound, and lowered his cheek to her temple.

  She relaxed against him, savoring his warmth, his strength. Safe. The word didn’t come to her mind often. She never felt unsafe in her normal life. She wasn’t sure why she needed Mal to feel safe. She only knew she didn’t want to spend the night with anyone else.

  She wanted tonight with Mal. She slid one hand from the back of his neck to his jaw, raising her head and turning toward him as she guided his face to hers.

  He hesitated, looking into her eyes a moment before he let her kiss him. She kept her eyes open until his drifted closed, and she gave herself to the kiss. Soft lips, soft tongue, soft breath, even his stubble felt soft against her palm. He was allowing her to set the pace, and though his fingers at the small of her back tightened when she touched her tongue to his, he didn’t do anything but hold her. Just that, just that one little thing, brought her guard down. She was safer, she knew, keeping it up.

  But God, she wanted to let it down.

  She turned, breaking the kiss, and waited for him to open his eyes as his breath washed over her lips. “Yes.”

  “Maddy.” He was less sure.

  “Yes, Mal.”

  “The bride.”

  She stepped back, smiling. His hands dropped away with some reluctance, and he watched as she moved around him, trailing her hand across his chest, not breaking contact until she picked up her robe from the foot of the bed. She tossed it with a flourish over the dresser mirror.

  For the second time Mal thought, he could love this woman. He caught her hips and turned her to him. She twined her arms around his neck and he held her closer, rubbing his thumbs over the tattoo that had been in the back of his mind since he saw it earlier today.

  This time there was more hunger in her kiss, as if she had a goal and was striving to meet it. He gentled her with a sweep of his hand over her soft hair, smoothing his other hand down her back. He set his feet apart and eased her closer, holding her lightly against him, giving her an excuse to lean into him or a chance to move away.

  God, he didn’t want her to move away.

  But she did, linking her fingers through his belt loops and drawing him with her.

  Ah. Framing her hips in his hands, he lowered her to the bed, following her down. He was careful to keep his weight off her, his knee between her thighs, his up
per body weight on his forearm. The need to touch her urged him on as her shiny hair spread out over his bed and her white skin glimmered above that skimpy little top. He covered her hand, the one she had looped around his neck, and slid his hand down her arm, past all that smooth bare skin, to cup her shoulder. When he rubbed his thumb over the curve of muscle there, she damn near purred, arching toward him, her head going back, offering him all that pretty, sweet smelling skin.

  Lowering his head, he sniffed, then rubbed his lips up and down, just beneath her ear. With a gasp, she shifted beneath him, her nipple brushing the inside of his arm. He tightened his grip on her shoulder before he slipped his fingers under the strap of her shirt. He shifted his weight, reaching up to kiss her, parting her lips under his.

  She slid her hands down to his shoulder, then his chest, rubbing through his t-shirt before sliding down and under the hem, over his skin. Her hands were so soft.

  He responded by dragging down her strap, baring her skin slowly.

  “Beautiful,” he whispered, and dipped his head to her breast.

  As he sipped her nipple between his lips, she tightened her fingers on his sides. He curled his tongue around the tender flesh as she moved her hips restlessly. He wanted to strip off her pants right now, but wanted her crazy for him, wanted no doubt in her mind when he pushed inside her.

  He shifted again and lowered her other strap so her blouse was below her breasts, pushing them up, sexy as hell. Her eyes were dark with passion, her lips parted in encouragement. Her fingers rested at the edge of his waistband and he bent to kiss her, bracing over her on both hands, playing his mouth over hers. She slipped her fingers beneath his waistband, and he lost his mind a little as the blood rushed to his groin. When he pushed against her, she gasped into his mouth and tightened her hands on his buttocks, lifting her hips into his.

  She dragged her hands around to his belt buckle. “You have something, right?” she asked, her voice all throaty and a little desperate as she fumbled with his belt.

  “Yeah.” Damn, her fingers were shaky and kept brushing against his erection through his jeans. Much more of that and he wouldn’t have any control left. He pushed her hands away and sat back on his heels, unfastened his own pants and shucked them off. He pulled two foil packets out of his front pocket, tossed them on the dresser, then helped her tug off her pants and top.