The Mammoth Book of Hot Romance

by Sonia Florens

  Gregory pulled the hat from his head, holding it with strong, tapering fingers. Energy snapped from his movements, as if life was there beneath the surface waiting to burst forth. He smoothed his brown hair back from his face and stared at her with even browner eyes. When he was near the other voices seemed to fade. She suspected his spirit had been here the longest, as he died the day the last stone was set on the house. Helen’s great-grandfather moved in the next day.

  Gregory looked at his hand, lifting it as if to reassure himself he was still materialized. “I’m still here.”

  She’d been staring again. Clearing her throat, Helen said, “Sorry. I was wondering about something, ah …”

  “Yes.” His body blurred, drifting gracefully only to pause once he stood before her. Her breath caught slightly and she wondered if he knew what his presence did to her. The very subtle hint of cologne wafted over her. He must have been wearing it the day he died, just like the fine suit.

  “I know this might be a sensitive subject and …” Helen took a deep breath, trying to concentrate. She wondered if he knew how her body heated or that an ache low in her belly begged for release. “And if you don’t want to answer, I’ll understand.”

  “You want to know why I didn’t kiss you last time I was corporeal.” His hand cupped her cheek and, for a moment, she stood stunned by the somewhat intimate touch. She had thought he might, as he’d stared at her with fading eyes, but she’d convinced herself she’d imagined the moment.

  “Can you feel such things being that you are a …?” Her words were low and halting. But, now, as the tortured depths of his gaze, raw with emotion, bore into her and begged her to give him an answer to some unasked question, she knew what she’d seen was real.

  “A ghost?” he finished when she couldn’t. “Yes. I can feel things as deeply as I did in life. Some of the others are locked in an emotion, as was I for a time. But, now, I can feel emotions. I can feel sensations against my body, though I can’t feel as I do when I’m corporeal. I have come to believe that death is merely a transfer of energy. I am still me, but not as I was.”

  Helen longed for the solid feel of flesh, for the heat that radiated between two people. She longed for him to be of flesh and bone. However, those corporeal moments were fleeting, stolen hours in the night. Some people called it the witching hour, those brief minutes when the dead could play upon the earth once again – not every night, not every ghost, but some. Her nerves tingled in awareness, but she couldn’t feel him, not like she could a live man, not now while daylight still found its way inside. She wanted to grab him, have him press her against a wall, have his lips against hers. Closing her eyes, she answered belatedly, “I wasn’t going to ask about that. I was going to ask about something else.”

  “I wish to explain.” His words had grown softer. “I need to explain. I haven’t been able to rest since I saw that look in your eyes as I disappeared. I never meant to hurt you.”

  The sensation of him surrounded her, like hands hovering over her flesh refusing to touch. Frustration mingled with sharp awareness. If she concentrated, she could tell exactly where his essence brushed over her flesh. His hand touched her arm, slid up her shoulder and along her throat. She moved her head to the side, allowing him access. A thumb drew along her cheek, dipping beneath the surface.

  “I didn’t kiss you because it would be torture to stop and my time was at an end,” Gregory whispered. She blinked, opening her eyes. His face was close, but he had no breath to hit upon her lips. “Since you arrived a little over a year ago to be our new caretaker, I have tried to …” He looked away, before briefly finishing, “I tried.”

  Helen wasn’t sure how to answer. All she knew was that her heart pounded in her chest and she felt hot and cold at the same time. A shadow moved through the corner of her vision, but she ignored it.

  “I don’t know if you can even feel me now.” He moved his fingers through her lips. “When I touch you, it’s like an electric current that draws me in.” He reached for her hand and she lifted it, holding it between them. Gregory pushed his hand through hers. Helen curled her fingers, desperate to hold him but unable to. Her senses were heightened, focused completely on him. “There, yet just beyond my grasp, real but fleeting.”

  “I can feel you.” She swallowed nervously. The chandelier crystals crashed together in the next room, reminding her of a wind chime. “You’re tingling and cool.”

  Helen’s entire body ached with the need to feel. To touch was such a simple thing, often taken for granted, and she couldn’t even manage that. His nearness only made the rising desires worse, but she didn’t ask him to leave. Where his fingers traced hers, a shiver travelled down her hand. It drew a wayward line through her arm, across her breasts to peak her nipples, only to centre deep in her belly. Her legs trembled. Her breath deepened. Her heart raced.

  Wanting. Needing.

  Denial.

  Helen almost cried out. Instead, she whispered, “When will you become corporeal?”

  “Shh,” he said. “We can’t talk here. Not about this. The others are watching us. They’re always around. They’re trying to listen even now. We must find a place away from them.”

  Helen turned her head as another shadow passed by.

  “Look at her,” a disembodied woman’s voice whispered. “I told you she wasn’t a good fit.”

  “She is no caretaker,” a male answered. Helen recognized Samuel, which meant the whispering woman was probably Rebecca. The spirit followed Rebecca around like a supernatural henchman. “She doesn’t understand the rules.”

  “Gregory is one of us,” Rebecca responded. “It is time she learns that. This goes too far.” A nauseatingly disgusting laugh followed the comment.

  “What are they talking about?” Helen asked. When she turned her attention back to Gregory, she realized he was gone.

  Two

  Helen retreated to the only place in the house the ghosts couldn’t materialize – her second-storey bedroom. The Victorian four-poster bed, antique furniture and lavishly woven rugs over the wood slat floors created an opulent feel. When she first spent the night in the bedroom, she’d had visions of being a fine lady. That was until she’d woken up to find two men playing cards at the foot of her bed. They’d looked at her like it was the most normal thing in the world. She’d screamed so loud and long that the two of them hadn’t reappeared for nearly six months. A salt barrier went down the next day.

  A grandmotherly spirit had been kind enough to point out the instructions Aunt Susan had left Helen on how to protect her bedroom and keep the house guests out. Apparently, she wasn’t the first caretaker to have privacy issues. Though sounds of footsteps and whispers sometimes drifted in, the salt she’d poured kept the others out. There were times when she considered salting the entire estate. Only, to do so would banish Gregory with the others.

  Helen glanced into the hall, placing her hands on the door frame as she leaned out. The lady in white walked past, not noticing anything around her before fading mid-stride. Telling time by the consistency of the lady’s daily stroll, Helen knew it would be just after five o’clock. “Gregory? Are you here? Where did you go?”

  She felt him before she saw him. It was a brush of cool air against cheek. She pulled back into the room. He stood on the threshold, unable to enter. Without speaking, she knelt down on the floor and brushed her hand over the thin line of salt to sweep it away. Before she could stand, he passed over her, entering. Helen drew her finger, redrawing a crooked line with the salt.

  “You’re trapping me in your room?” Gregory asked, though he hardly appeared concerned. The thud of running feet sounded overhead followed by a hard crash.

  Helen pushed the door closed as she stood and listened for the latch to click. The room suddenly felt very small. “I can’t believe we’re alone.” Heat warmed her cheeks. “It seems strange. I wasn’t sure you’d come in here, but you said we needed a place the others couldn’t see so we could talk.”


  He looked around the room. His features blurred slightly. “Why would you think that? You’ve never asked me to come in here.”

  “You being a gentleman and all.” Helen motioned at his clothing, noting the way he carried himself. These traits were a constant reminder. “I feel myself compelled to act like a lady, only I’m not sure how a lady acts.”

  At that he chuckled. “I’ve been around for quite some time. Just because I only own one suit during my afterlife, doesn’t mean I haven’t changed. I don’t expect women to be like the ladies of my time and I don’t expect you to be anything but you.”

  “There is something I’ve been dying to know. Earlier, I was going to ask about your death. The family legend says you died of foul play because my great-grandfather owed you money. Is that true?”

  “You think Frank killed me?” He chuckled. “No, it wasn’t that, it was an accident. I was pushing the workers to finish on time and stopped to check on the progress before going to a dinner party with your great-grandfather. One second I was looking up at my creation, the next I was standing dazed in the middle of the parlour watching people walk right by who couldn’t see me. They say the suddenness of my death is what kept me here, just like the others. Those who die naturally seem to take the option to move on to wherever it is spirits go.”

  “Honestly, it’s kind of a relief. I couldn’t stand the thought of a relative of mine having killed you over money.” She gave a nervous laugh.

  Within a breath, he was close. Tingling erupted on her flesh. She tried to steady her nerves, but her hands trembled. A thought whispered through the back of her mind, telling her this was insane. It didn’t matter. Her entire lifee’d felt like she was sleepwalking through the world. Now, in this secluded place in Oklahoma surrounded by ghosts, she felt more real than ever before. Gregory made her feel alive. She could no more banish him from her than she could stop breathing.

  “I need to sit down,” she whispered. “I have to hold on to something or I’ll fall.”

  Helen walked weak-kneed to the bed. Gregory appeared next to her. His weight didn’t shift the mattress, but the bed did shake a little. The harsh pant of her breath echoed around them. She reached for his face, her fingers tingling as they went through his neck. “I don’t know if I can do this.” He began to pull away. “I meant not being able to grab a hold of you. I can’t remember wanting anything more. Tell me this isn’t crazy, that I’m not locked away in some mental institution due to hallucinations.”

  Gregory shook his head. “As I’ve told you before, this is all very real. Though, I cannot attest to this place not being an asylum. You have met the residents.”

  Helen laughed.

  “Lie back and close your eyes,” Gregory urged. She slowly obeyed.

  Sensations filled her, overwhelming her senses. He stretched out next to her, his body pushing into hers and causing it to tingle. A hand swept over her hip and down her outer thigh, the caress like a teasing feather over her skin. Her breath caught and she focused on his touch. There was no need to remove her clothes, she felt him as if she were naked. Parting her lips, she took a deep breath. With each weightless caress, her body heated more until she was squirming beneath him.

  Moisture gathered between her thighs. Helen ground her heels into the bed, longing to have something firm pressing into her. She wanted to run her hands into his hair, to hear his breath echoing hers, to feel his lips and tongue and teeth against her mouth. The sensation of his hand slid along her inner thigh, bringing pleasurable torment with it. She tensed as he drew close to her sex, wondering what it would feel like to have him there.

  Helen felt a tug at her shirt. At first it didn’t register, as her mind stayed focused on her stomach and thighs. He tugged again. This time more insistently as he tried to pull the shirt over her head. She blinked, focusing on his face. The colour of pale flesh had begun to fill in the transparency of his expression. He pulled at her shirt, trying to grasp the material with fingers that could not hold them. Helen made a move to help, tugging the shirt over her head and tossing it aside. As soon as she’d finished, Gregory touched her skin. The sensation felt warmer, thicker.

  “What’s happening?” Helen reached for his face and met with solidifying flesh. The colour of tanned flesh replaced the pale, as if painted across his features. It filled in his lips, darkened his eyes until his gaze penetrated her with the full force of his desire. His hand pressed into her stomach. She gasped. It answered the call of her desires and was the most wondrous thing she’d ever felt.

  Without questioning further, she knocked the bowler hat from his head and reached for his tie, pulling his mouth to hers. She sighed against the firm press of his lips. This was the moment she’d waited so desperately for. Her passion grew with each brush of their bodies. She pulled off his tie and slid her hands into the front of his jacket, pushing it from his shoulders. It fell next to them on the bed. The subtle musk of cologne emanated from his neck as she kissed a trail from his mouth to his ear.

  Her hands fumbled as she unbuttoned first his shirt and then his old-fashioned under garments. Helen wasn’t sure why she was so nervous. She’d known him for over a year, talked to him for endless hours. They’d discussed old books and customs. She’d told him of movies and the mals of technology. They relayed stories of youth, of past loves, of all those little things friends talk about and can’t really remember discussing later. She knew his face, his smile – though normally she knew them to be transparent. She knew the sound of his voice, how it sent chills over her each time she heard it.

  And, now, as the material of his clothes parted, she knew the feel of his stomach against hers. Breath rushed against her cheek as he inhaled against her. Heat radiated from his chest. Fingers revealed muscles, finding dips and curves once hidden. Their legs tangled and hips pressed until the unmistakable feel of his desire moulded against her.

  “How long will this last?” Helen rubbed her hand down his cheek and neck to travel over his shoulder. He leaned back and drew his arms out of his sleeves. A long scar cut across the smooth, strong flesh of his chest. He was a man who had worked during his lifetime, not only designing homes, but building them with his hands. She liked his hands – sure and steady with the callouses of hard work.

  “I do not know,” he answered. Lids fell heavy over his eyes as he looked at her. His gaze lingered on her light-green bra. “I have not done this since before my death.”

  Helen unbuttoned her pants and pushed them from her hips. Gregory leaned back on the bed, jerking them off her legs. Her lacy green panties matched the bra. He bit his lip to see them. Reaching for her hip, he pulled at the lacy barrier covering her sex. The panties glided down her legs and he dropped them next to the bed.

  Urgency filled them. She had never seen him corporeal during the daylight hours and wasn’t sure how much time they had until he disappeared again. His eyes focused on the thin line of hair standing guard over the slick folds of her sex. Gregory undid his pants. The material slung low on his tight hips, revealing the full length of his arousal. He caressed her legs, pulling them open so he could settle between her thighs. Helen reached for him, tugging his arm to draw him forwards. His hand ventured up her inner thigh, moving until his fingers glided along her pussy.

  Helen gasped, arching her hips into his hand. His finger tested her response, dipping beyond the barrier of her sex. He entered her slowly before moving to rub the tight bundle of nerves hidden within the moist folds. Her hips jerked in response, a wholly involuntary movement that sent pleasure washing over her body.

  His hair was soft as she ran her fingers into it. Her gaze travelled over his chest, following the thin scar, watching its subtle movements. She pulled his mouth to hers, moaning as she kissed him. Their tongues met eagerly. Gregory braced his weight on one arm and the sheer force of his solid body to hers made her shiver in anticipation.

  He dipped another finger inside her and Helen thrust herself against his hand, trying to
end the ache he stirred within her. She wanted him like she’d never wanted another. Her kiss became rough as she pushed up from the bed. The large bulge of his arousal brushed against her thigh and she tensed. Almost mindless in her desperation, she flung his hand away from her sex and grabbed hold of his hips.

  He held his body tense. The first intimate touch forced a small cry from Helen’s lips. The hard length of his cock filled her, slow and deep. Pleasure erupted, but it was bittersweet as tension and neediness soon followed. Gregory bit his lip, his entire body strained. He stayed embedded inside her, as if afraid to move.

  Helen dug her hands into his shoulders, drawing her ass down into the mattress before pushing up. Her legs worked against his hips. Taking his cue, Gregory moved. He pulled out only to thrust deep. Helen needed more. She bucked beneath him, her body urging him with every subtle and not-so-subtle movement to give her more. They rocked their hips, seeing a natural rhythm that would alleviate their yearning desires.

  Helen groaned. Her body was so close. She needed release so badly. Flipping him on to his back, she took over, riding him as she sought fulfilment. The new position gave her control over their movements. Gregory’s fingers dislodged her bra as he grabbed her breasts. Electric sensations filled the hard peaks of her nipples as he pinched them lightly between his fingers. She lifted up only to fall down upon his lap.

  Gregory groaned, grabbing her hips to keep the now frantic pace of her thrusts from slowing. His gorgeous body strained beneath hers as he rocked up into her. His feet dug into the bed, forcing his cock deep. She gasped, panted, moaned. Clawing at his chest, she circled her hips. The tension became almost unbearable. Release was close, so close, so …

  Helen cried out as she reached her climax. Her body jerked violently and she felt as if she couldn’t catch her breath. Gregory thrust a few more times before he too found his release. Inside her sex a tingling sensation erupted where his body intimately touched hers. Before she could pull off him, she fell on to the mattress. She gasped, looking at the empty bed beneath her. Gone, too, were his dishevelled clothing. He’d disappeared.