As if she could. “Have you done this kind of thing before?”
“This kind of thing?” Despite the dark, she could hear the smirk in his voice.
“Waited in the dark for a ghost to show up?”
He snorted. “I don’t usually have to wait.”
Something in his tone left her uneasy. “Can I ask you something?”
“Sure.”
“Why did Detective Harding go to see you at the other property?”
“I’m not at Stonecliff because I need the work. I did something stupid, and if I do what Harding wants, he’ll make sure the charges go away.”
Charges? As in a crime? “What did you do?”
“Fraud. God, it’s such a long bloody story. Most people are not trailed by a long line of dead relatives. Making a living as a medium, you can’t always rely on the right ghosts to show up when you need them to. I learned to improvise. Sometimes the right ghosts do turn up, but people don’t want to believe what I tell them. It’s easier to call me a liar than to face the truth.”
“Why did you do it?”
“I got caught up in something and didn’t know how to get out.” His voice rasped, and he cleared his throat.
Disquiet grew inside of her. This conversation had turned too personal, too intimate. She should change the subject to something benign—the weather, maybe. Instead, she asked, “How old were you when you first started seeing…ghosts?”
“I don’t remember a time when I didn’t see them. The affliction is hereditary. My mother, her brother, their mother, and on back.”
“That must have been scary when you were small.”
“Not for the reason you think,” he said, carefully. “My mother was terrified that people would think we were mad if they knew what we saw. She was convinced that I would be taken from her, institutionalized. She drilled it into me that I could never acknowledge the apparitions, the voices, and taught me to develop blocks. The strain and concentration was exhausting. She died when I was nine, and I went to live with my uncle. He didn’t share her fears and had been working as a medium for years.”
Did she really believe all this? An entire family visited by ghosts? Or was she merely desperate to grab on to the idea that he could help her? “Is that how you began?”
“Kendrick started me young.” His tone turned bitter. “He told me to stop using the blocks unless I had to. He had a theory that my mother’s brain tumor was a result of suppressing her ability.”
Cold swept through Brynn. She sat up and turned toward Reece. The bag of peas slid off her knee. “Is that true?”
“I don’t know. Kendrick’s an expert manipulator and he had his own motivations. All I can say for sure is I couldn’t function in the world without them.”
“Why would he want to manipulate you?” Brynn grabbed the frozen bag and tentatively flexed her leg. A little stiff, but the pain had gone. She dropped the peas onto the floor before shifting onto her side facing Reece.
“He wanted me to sit in with clients. I think he believed a child medium would give him credibility. In the beginning I liked it. For the first time in my life I didn’t feel like I had to hide what I was. I didn’t feel like there was something wrong with me. He taught me how to drag out a reading when I made contact, how to cold read when I couldn’t. It felt like a game, then it didn’t and I wanted to stop.”
“What changed?”
“Kendrick had me sit in with a woman whose son had died of cancer. He’d been young, six or seven. The kid wasn’t there, but Kendrick had been stringing her along for a while, telling her the boy was too shy to come forward. I was all set to launch into my performance, but she looked at me, and all I saw was desperate fear. I felt sick. I told her that her son had crossed over and he was at peace. She seemed comforted. Kendrick, however, was not happy.”
Brynn’s stomach churned. She reached out her hand, his fingers tangling with hers. “What did he do?”
“He made it clear if I wanted to stay with him and not wind up in foster care, I needed to fall in line. He was putting a roof over my head and food on the table. I had to earn my keep.”
Anger ignited low inside her. What kind of man manipulated a child like that? “What about your father?”
“Never met the man. He was married when I was conceived, and not to my mother.”
“Oh. Sorry.”
“Don’t be. Honestly, I rarely think of him.”
She probably should have taken a page from his book where her father was concerned, and she wouldn’t be here now. Though, the idea of never having met Reece left her with a strange hollowness.
“How did you wind up involved with Detective Harding? Are you still in that line of work?”
“No.” His voice turned flat and he let go of her hand. “I haven’t worked for Kendrick since I left at sixteen. I did something stupid.”
“You don’t want to tell me?” Though it was more statement than question.
“I can’t think of how to explain without coming across as a complete prat.”
She smiled in spite of herself. “Since we’ve met, you’ve seen me falling-down drunk and on the verge of a nervous breakdown—twice. This might even the score.”
“Right, well, when you put it like that.” She could hear the grin in his voice, could imagine his mouth pulling reluctantly at the corners. “Kendrick came to see me a few months back out of the blue. I wanted to tell him to go to hell. I’d built a life well away from the one I’d lived with him, and I didn’t want him anywhere near it. He said he needed my help—he was in trouble. If I did him this favor, a one-time thing, he’d go and I’d never see him again.”
Sure, he would. Men like that always came back if they thought there was something for them. “What did he want?”
“He needed my help with a client, some bullshit story that the client and ghost in question were being difficult. He thought I might be able to smooth things over. Back him up. Mrs. Reid believed her daughter’s drug-addict boyfriend killed her, and wanted confirmation. The boyfriend hadn’t. Her daughter had OD’d all on her own. Kendrick had been stringing the woman along for weeks. He wouldn’t blatantly lie to the woman, not with her daughter actually coming through. He does have some strange code of right and wrong, I suppose. So he’d tell her he was losing the connection whenever the conversation shifted to the cause of death. All he told her was her daughter didn’t die the way she thought. Anyway, I saw the chance to drop Kendrick in the shit.” He chuckled humorlessly. “Kendrick had warned me to tread carefully with the woman, but I wouldn’t listen.”
“I take it Mrs. Reid wasn’t overly receptive to your version of events.”
Reece snorted. “No, she wasn’t. When I told her the truth, she went right to Harding.”
“What does the detective want you to do?”
“He wants me to lure your sister into trying to kill me, then he’ll finally have the evidence he needs to put her away.”
Brynn wasn’t sure Eleri had murdered anyone, but someone had killed Matthew Langley, and three men had vanished. “Are you out of your mind? Tell Harding to go to hell and get away from here.”
“I’ve spent a long time moving on from Kendrick and all that bullshit. I have a different life and I don’t want anyone to know about what I am, what I used to do.”
“So you’re willing to be living bait for a serial killer?”
“There’s more than just me on the line. I have a business building boats, people I care about.”
A woman, maybe? Was he involved with someone? A distinct possibility. He was smart, attractive and damn hot.
“Are you married?” she blurted.
He chuckled and rolled onto his side to face her. “No.”
Again, she wished she could make out more than his outline in the dark. “Girlfriend?”
“I don’t do the long-term thing.”
Relief swept through her like a wave. “Good.”
The minute the word left her mouth, h
er eyes rounded. Oh God, she’d said that out loud. Despite the black closed in around them, she felt his frame stiffen.
“I don’t mean that it’s good…exactly…just…that…um…” Stop talking!
Reece shifted closer. His hand cupped the side of her face, his long fingers grazing her skin.
Shivery awareness slid through her and a wet ache beat slowly between her legs.
“What,” his mouth brushed hers and every nerve ending in her system sparked to life, “exactly did you mean, then?”
A thousand excuses played in her head, danced on the tip of her tongue. Instead, she pressed her mouth to his.
Chapter Thirteen
White-hot need flared to life the minute Brynn fused her mouth to Reece’s, awakening a hunger she hadn’t felt in ages. She tilted her head, deepened the kiss, slid her tongue alongside his, losing herself to firm lips drawing hers. He gripped her hip with one hand, fingers curling into her thin cotton shorts. A low growl rumbled in his chest, and the ache between her legs throbbed harder.
She wanted him, craved him, like no one she’d known. She wrapped her arms around his neck, tangling her fingers in his thick hair, while he traced kisses down her throat, along her jawline, leaving a trail of shivery heat over her skin.
“How’s your knee?” he murmured against her ear.
Knee? What knee? At this point she was only vaguely aware she had legs. “It’s better. The ice helped.”
She reached for him, to pull him in for another mind-scrambling kiss, but he held back, studying her with sea-blue eyes. “I’m not the kind of man you should be with.”
Desperate panic fluttered in her throat. He couldn’t stop, not now. She wanted this. Wanted him. Maybe he was all wrong for her, but Zack had been the right kind of man and look where that had landed her. “You don’t know who I should be with.”
His gaze held hers. “I’ll never be the sort of man to give you marriage and a house in the suburbs. All there will ever be between us is this. I’m not capable of more.”
Despite the thin sting in her chest, it didn’t matter. She wasn’t looking for another Zack. “I’m leaving soon, remember?”
The heat in his expression dimmed for a moment before flaring to life again so quickly she wasn’t sure she’d seen it at all. “I remember.”
He leaned forward, dipping his head so his mouth grazed her throat, tongue flicking her fluttering pulse. Her breath caught and her fingers threaded his hair once more as he trailed hot, wet kisses down her throat, over her collarbone and between her breasts. The heat of his mouth warmed her skin even through her T-shirt.
She whimpered and arched into him, layers of clothing driving her wild with frustration. She wanted to feel his hard flesh against hers, skin on skin, ached to have him over her, inside her.
His mouth closed on her breast, turgid nipple rasping against the damp fabric as he sucked and licked. Her fingers tightened in his hair, hips undulating as if acting on their own impulse.
Sweet pressure pulled at her womb. His mouth moved up her neck, sucking gently along the way. His hand slipped inside her shorts. Long fingers traced her outer lips, brushing softly against her clitoris. She whimpered, hips jerking forward. He chuckled, nuzzling the skin along her jaw. Her entire body shivered with sensation, the overwhelming onslaught leaving her trembling.
“Reece,” she whispered again. Her hand wrapped around his wrist. She couldn’t think, could barely breathe. But his pace didn’t slow. One questing finger slid between her folds and pushed deep inside her. She gasped, relishing in the exquisite fullness yet craving more.
“Mmm,” he groaned against the side of her neck just below her ear. “You’re so wet.”
His finger pulled back and pushed deep again.
“Reece, please.” Her voice sounded weak, needy, even to her own ears. She wanted more, needed more, needed all of him inside her, filling her.
“Soon,” he promised, slipping a second finger inside her.
She groaned and leaned back. The girth of both fingers stretched her. His hand moved back and forth, palm rolling against her clit. Hot trills of pleasure soared through her system. His lips captured hers again, tongue sweeping her mouth. Her inner muscles tightened, nerves pulling taut as she trembled on the brink of orgasm.
“God,” he murmured, sliding his hand from her shorts and easing back. A chill whispered through her. This wasn’t a repeat of yesterday, was it? “What’s wrong?”
His mouth stretched into that reluctant smile, and her chest warmed. “I have to get you naked.”
Yes, please!
But whatever receptors connecting the brain to her ability to speak had fizzled out. Her belly quivered, and something low inside her tensed at the dark promise in his voice.
“I want to see you,” he said, before flicking on the overhead light.
She squinted against the sudden brilliance, giving her eyes a chance to adjust. When she looked up, Reece stood over her, hungry gaze raking her from head to foot and back up again. Her mouth went dry.
“What about the ghost?” she croaked.
“The hell with your ghost. This is more important. God, I want you,” he murmured, almost to himself. Her skin heated.
He crawled onto the bed beside her and his mouth found hers, as hungry and desperate as she felt. His hand slid up her ribs, cupping her breast, squeezing before dropping down to her waist again. He gripped the hem of her T-shirt, pulled it up over her head and tossed it aside. Tiny goose bumps shivered over her bare skin.
Then his hands were on her breasts again, callused palms scraping over her sensitive flesh. She arched into his touch, leaning her head against the pillow. Wet heat welled between her legs, need pounding at her core and reverberating throughout her body.
He sat up and looked down at her.
“You’re incredible,” he murmured, voice reverent, gliding his fingertips over her skin. She shivered.
God, she wanted him. She wanted him to touch her, taste her, take her, anything to ease ache between her legs. He bent his head and pressed his mouth to her stomach. A shudder rippled through her. She gripped his head with both hands, fingers tangling in his hair. His scent, pine mingled with sea air, filled her senses, feeding that endless hunger.
His lips trailed hot and wet down her belly, fingers dragging her shorts over her hips. Once he had them past her feet, he tossed them aside and pushed her legs apart. Anticipation burned inside her, body taut, expectant.
His lips grazed her inner thigh and she nearly shot off the bed.
She whimpered and he flashed a wicked grin, then his mouth closed over her, tongue slipping between her folds, cresting her opening. Raw sensation streaked through her like an electric charge, singeing her from the inside out. Her hips thrust forward against his hungry mouth. Her leg muscles quivered, belly pulled tight. And all the while, his mouth drove her on, tongue flicking her clitoris before plunging deep once more.
Her orgasm slammed into her like a transport truck, breaking her, shattering her into a million pieces. Still, his relentless mouth continued, drawing the sensation out until she was left weak and trembling.
At last, Reece lifted his head. Hungry eyes met hers and a predatory smile curved his wonderful mouth. A small thrill lit inside her despite the aftershocks still trembling through her system.
She managed a faint smile. “I think you might have killed me.”
God, she was stunning, Reece thought, spread out before him, flushed and sated, her sweet, musky flavor still on his tongue. His cock thickened as his gaze swept the gentle flare of her hips, flat stomach, swollen breasts. Her coffee-colored eyes regarded him through heavy lids, full lips parted while her chest rose and fell.
He was desperate to drive himself inside, to sink into her wet heat, yet he didn’t want the moment to end. For one fleeting instant, he wished he was the sort of man who could give her forever. Impossible, of course. He was what he was.
Instead he’d settle for driving her o
ut of her head, branding her with his touch so every man she was with after, she’d think of him. It was selfish and stupid, but he didn’t care. Some primal part of him wanted her to belong to him forever.
He kissed her again, hard, plunging his tongue into her mouth, while his hands ran over her smooth curves. Her skin was so soft.
She grabbed at his shirt, pulling it up his back. They stopped kissing long enough so she could yank it over his head. Then he was back, fusing his mouth to hers while her fingers trailed down his chest fueling the gnawing heat pounding through his system. She pulled at his fly and shoved his jeans and shorts down past his hips. Her touch grazed the skin along his groin. Every muscle in his stomach squeezed, hips jerked up as if of their own accord. He opened his eyes and looked into her grinning face.
“You liked that.” Her voice was low and husky and sexy as hell. She trailed her fingers across the same spot and he gritted his teeth, fighting for some semblance of control. Her hand slid lower, gripped his cock. With a low moan, he dropped his forehead to hers and pushed himself into her palm. She smoothed up and down his shaft in tight, long strokes. Need streaked through him.
God, he had to slow this down. His brain had nearly been reduced to red haze. He was seconds away from driving himself into her.
He eased back from her, forcing her to relinquish her hold on his erection, shoved his jeans and underwear off in one fluid push before kicking them away. Her dark gaze moved over him hungrily. His cock jerked.
The hell with slowing down. He needed to get inside her. He covered her body with his, settling between her legs. Her skin, like silk, smoothed against his. The tip of his erection crested her opening.
A soft gasp slipped from her lips and she pressed her hand to his chest. “Wait.”
“Now?” He croaked. “You want me to wait now?”
She nodded. “Protection. Please tell me you have something.”
Reality caught him like a cool draft, and unease shivered through him. How bloody far gone was he that he could have forgotten? He of all people?
“I do,” he told her, reaching for his jeans on the floor and doing what he could to shake off the anxiety creeping over him like a thin layer of ice. He’d been caught up in the moment, distracted. It happened. Though, it never had before.
Shivers Box Set: Darkening Around MeLegacy of DarknessThe Devil's EyeBlack Rose (Shivers (Harlequin E)) Page 39
