Molly Harper - Better Homes and Hauntings

“Well, look at what I found here,” a warm male voice whispered against her ear. “A pretty piece of skirt already bent over the bed.”

A thrill of fear rippled up her spine as large, warm hands slipped around her hips and pressed her bum against a solid male frame. Teeth closed gently over her earlobe, tugging insistently.

She sighed as the mouth moved from her ear to her neck. He paused to nibble at the base of her neck, and she turned to face . . .

The scene changed, and she was standing on the roof, on the widow’s walk, looking out onto the Atlantic, the setting sun making the waves fire with thousands of golden sparks. She sighed, content, as she leaned against the railing.

“This could be our home.”

Deacon was smiling fondly at her, pulling her hands against his chest and kissing her knuckles before pulling her close and planting a much warmer kiss on her mouth. She sighed, turning and relaxing against his hands as they slid over her collarbones and around her neck.

“I built this for you. You don’t have the right to leave.”

The hands around her neck squeezed tight, and Nina turned to find Rick’s sneering face hovering just inches from hers, his mouth twisted into a cruel smirk. He was dressed in an old-fashioned starched collar and vest, a golden pocket-watch chain jangling against his waist. The hands around her neck tightened, his thumbs pressing against the hollow of her throat. She wheezed, fighting for air, while he smiled, his mouth stretching into a parody of a skeletal grin. She clawed at his hands, but his grip didn’t relent, squeezing until she thought her lungs would burst.

He laughed as she sank to her knees, dropping a quick kiss to her forehead as he whispered, “You’ll never leave me, Catherine.”

Nina bolted up in bed, clawing at her throat. Deacon sat up, wrapping his arms around her as she thrashed. Eventually, she relaxed, sobbing against his shoulder as the last of the dream pressure eased from her throat.

“It’s OK,” he promised. “It was just a dream. It wasn’t real.”

He eased her back down against the mattress as her breathing evened out. “Maybe you should get off the island for a while. It might do you some good to rest and relax a bit away from this place,” he suggested, his words so softly spoken against her cheek that it took a second for her to register what he had said. She sat up again, glaring at him through the darkness and whipping the pillow out from under his head. He yelped as she brought the pillow down against his face, ruthlessly whacking him again and again until he ripped the squishy weapon out of her hands.

“If you try to send me away for my own good, I will get one of Dotty’s Tasers and use it on your . . . hard drive,” she growled, glancing down. Deacon’s eyes went wide, and he instinctually covered the equipment in question with the sheet.

“OK, OK, I just thought you might be able to sleep better if ghosts weren’t giving you nightmares!” he exclaimed.

“Well, it’s hardly a romantic gesture.”

“I was going to put you at the Four Seasons with a personal chef, a masseuse, and your own facialist.”

Nina pursed her lips. “Maybe I spoke too soon . . . No. No! You will not tempt me with presidential suites and shiatsu! I am not leaving. I am not going to leave you here to deal with this alone.” She rolled over him, pressing him to the mattress. “I don’t know who you’ve dealt with in the past, but I’m like a persistent little burr that won’t go away. You will not be able to get rid of me, do you understand?”

“Do nightmares always make you this assertive?” he asked sleepily.

“No.”

He yawned, sweeping her grip off his wrists and gathering her to his chest. He buried his face in her hair and rubbed soothing circles on her back. “Well, that’s too bad. I kind of like it.”

Circles on her back eventually became circles on her ass and then her hips, until he was plunging those long, talented fingers between her thighs, drawing the wet, aching response from her body into a rippling coil of sensation that had her bucking against him.

He kissed her, swallowing her cries to keep them from waking the others down the hall.

“Deacon,” she whimpered against his lips. And he answered by sliding inside her, rolling onto his back, urging her to move over him until she found just the right rhythm. It might have been embarrassing how quickly he could bring her to the edge, but she loved the way she responded to him, the way his eyes lit up when his touch elicited a particularly interesting sound from her lips. Nina wanted him to know how much she enjoyed him. And she did, loudly, giving one last shaky scream as she collapsed against his chest.

Living with the ghosts of thwarted lovers was enough to teach you the value of living in the moment.

A CLAP OF thunder startled them awake. Deacon was curled on his side, his arms wrapped around Nina’s middle. He’d been dozing, his brows furrowing slightly as if he couldn’t stop worrying, even in sleep. Smiling fondly, she rubbed her finger between his eyebrows, smoothing out the worry line.

“So what now?” she asked.

“I pray you don’t file a sexual-harassment suit?”

She frowned at him. He chuckled, pushing an errant strand of hair out of her face. “This feels like a ridiculous conversation to have as an adult.”

“Why don’t you go ahead and humor me?”

“I like you. I would like to date you. When we return to the mainland, I would like us to spend time together that doesn’t involve possession, my ghostly ancestors, or our annoying roommates. I know that you reacted rather violently to this suggestion before, but really, if you want to leave the island at any time, say the word, and I’ll get a helicopter here to take you back.”

“Am I fired?”

“No! Why do you always think I’m going to fire you?”

“Do you think I’m too weak to deal with this?”

“No, I just want you to be safe,” he protested.

She rubbed the tip of her nose against his. “I am safe. When I’m with you, with the group, I’m always safe.”

He stroked her hair back from her face, watching her eyes flutter closed and her face relax into sleep. He wished she was right, that he could protect her from any threat, natural or supernatural. And while admitting that there was, in fact, a supernatural threat was a hell of a paradigm shift, it was nothing compared to the realization that he was madly, terribly, head-over-heels in love with Nina Linden, muddy boots, bad movie preferences, and all.

He already knew that he liked her. A lot. And that he wanted to spend time with her. But as she made him dance in the rain, he knew that he wouldn’t be able to live without seeing her every day. He was in love with her. And he had no idea what to do about it.

For now, he would have to settle for security cameras and big, armed, scary people. Dotty would have to handle the supernatural threats. And he definitely wasn’t telling his know-it-all cousin that he was in love with her friend. Or that he admitted, if only to himself, to believing in ghosts.

There would be no talking to her after that.

RICK SAT ON the balcony overlooking the greenhouse, grinning. It had been easier to sneak onto the island again than he’d thought it would be. Just a little one-man boat, moored on the far side of the island. The rough trip was worth it to see that bitch squirm. He was being led here, he knew that. He knew he wasn’t clever enough to get past all of the security crap on his own. Some invisible force was guiding him, telling him where to dock his boat, where to walk where he couldn’t be picked up by the security cameras. The house was guiding him. He belonged here. It belonged to him, no matter whose name was on the island. This place was his. Everything here was his. And the woman, she would pay for her crimes against him. Ignoring him, humiliating him. He would show her who was in charge.