Sarah Gilman - Ghosts of the Falls

Her heart leapt up and clung to her throat. She furiously buttoned her blouse. “I was getting dressed after a shower.”

He folded his arms. “Jeremy told me the exorcism hadn’t been completed and figured I needed to head out here.” He held out his hand. “Give me that.”

She tossed the book into the rapids, using all her strength to get good distance.

His eyes widened. “That was one of our great grandfather’s handwritten copies.”

“This spirit is different, Aaron. He can assume corporeal form and is in no way hostile. He set up the motel fire to get an exorcism, but we’ve…” Heat seared her cheeks. “We’ve gotten acquainted.”

“Corporeal form? Interesting.” He pursed his lips. Silent seconds ticked by. “Go back to wherever you’re staying, little sister. I’m going to call Jeremy, and we’re going to finish this in the morning.”

He strode off up the path in the moonlight, leaving his lantern with her. She bent forward, hands on her knees, and caught her breath. Thank God he’d left without much of a fuss, but he clearly intended to proceed with the exorcism as soon as he got another copy of the text. Her pulse hammered in her ears and her knees trembled. A tear dripped off the end of her chin.

“Dutch?” she whispered.

Jade made her way back along the path, forcing herself to think positive. Aaron had gotten a couple pages into the exorcism, and though it must have put Dutch through tremendous pain, it wasn’t enough to do a spirit as strong as him any permanent harm. When the bindings wore off, Dutch would recover.

The adrenaline rush ebbed, and the scrapes and cuts from her fall made themselves known. Her knee throbbed. Grit mingled with blood on her palms. Her cheek stung.

Halfway back, warm air brushed her neck. Her breath hitched. “Dutch?”

“I’m here,” his quiet voice said. “Meet me at the cabin.”

She ran, taking care of her footing. Bursting through the door, the sound of water running reached her ears. “Dutch!”

“In here.”

Jade hurried to the bathroom and found him bent over the sink, soaking a washcloth under the steaming faucet. Dressed in his brown pants and boots, he appeared unharmed. She touched his shoulder. “Are you all right?”

He met her gaze, pain evident in his eyes. “I’ll be fine.” He dabbed the warm, damp cloth on her cheek. “Thank you for intervening, but I wish you hadn’t gotten hurt.”

In the mirror, she caught sight of the gash on her face and winced. “How did you escape the bindings so fast?”

“He didn’t bind me. He just started in on the exorcism, which in itself overpowered me. No offense, but he’s stronger than you.”

“He is, unfortunately.” She wrapped her arms around herself. “And he’ll be back.”

“Who is he?” Dutch rinsed the cloth under cold water, folded it, and pressed it against her cheek.

“My older brother, Aaron. Every generation, the firstborn turns out the strongest in terms of clairvoyance. My younger brother, in turn, isn’t as strong as I am.” She lifted her hand to the cold compress. “I should be the one taking care of you.”

He cocked his head and his lips curved into a weary grin. “There’s first aid for a partial exorcism?”

“No.” She leaned back against the doorframe. “I’m so sorry about tonight.”

“You forget, I want to be exorcised.” He sighed. “Just not like that. With you, it was on my terms.”

She turned away and met his gaze in the mirror. “Aren’t there other things you want?”

“Prior to today, no. But now…” He pressed against her back, brushed her hair aside, and nuzzled her neck. Waves of heat rushed down her body.

He lifted a hand from her waist and cupped her chin, coaxing her face toward his. His lips touched hers, light contact at first, then he leaned into her. His deep brown eyes held her gaze as they kissed. Slowly and without breaking contact, she turned to fully face him and wrapped her arms around his neck.

He broke the kiss and his gaze traveled down her body. “Are you hurt anywhere else?”

“I landed pretty hard on my knees.” She bit her lip and reached for her zipper.

Easing the fabric over a sharp ache on her kneecap, she stepped out of her jeans and dropped them on the hamper. Her blouse didn’t cover her white lace panties.

“Hmm.” Dutch knelt and ran his fingers across the lace, down her hips to her tender knee. “The skin isn’t broken, but you’ll have a good bruise.” He pressed his lips to the spot.

She sighed as he kissed his way up her leg. He paused halfway up her thigh and met her stare. The light over the mirror accented the green specks in his otherwise earthy eyes.

“Keep going. Please.” She wove her fingers into the slight curls of his hair.

He pressed his lips to the lace that covered the lowest point of her belly and ran his hands up her hips. The firm pressure of his work-hardened palms instilled tingling heat deep into her flesh, searing her nerves. His fingers slid under the edge of her panties and pulled the dainty fabric down to her ankles.

She kicked the garment into the corner as he got to his feet. His hands traveled up her backside, under her shirt and up her back. He kissed her, sucking her lower lip into his mouth as he scratched his fingers over her bra.

“Off,” he said, his tone husky enough to be a growl.

The demand kicked the speed of her breathing up a notch. Any other time, she’d smack a man for giving her blunt orders. But now she reached behind her and flicked the tiny clasps free.

“Jade.” He leaned back an inch, hitting her with the full force of those eyes. “It’s been a long time for me. I won’t have much control to offer you if we go any further.”

“I’m not going to stop you.” She was so afraid she’d lost him tonight. “I want to be with you.” She unbuttoned and pushed his pants down, grasping the length of him in her hand. With a throaty whisper, she added, “And I want you to lose control.”

Dutch stripped off her shirt and slid her bra down her arms, his movements quick and rough. He kicked off his boots and pants, picked her up, and headed for the back door.

Outside, the night air remained a comfortable temperature. Overhead, no moon shone, but the stars gleamed brighter for its absence. Dutch set her down on the cool grass. Tall, thick bushes around the cabin offered privacy.

He claimed her mouth and rubbed his body against hers, his weight and warmth a sinful comfort. Smoothing her hands over his chest and back, she sucked on his tongue.

Pausing, mischief filled his eyes. He grinned and vanished.

“Wha—”

“Sh.” He remained on top of her in his incorporeal form, an invisible, coiled energy, his power level so much more intense than any other spirit she’d ever brushed against. Unlike weaker spirits that created a drop in temperature, he smoothed heat over her body like a bath of self-warming cream. A hint of electrical charge raised the tiny hairs on her arms. He spared no inch of her, touching her everywhere at once, the sensual caress driving her to stimulation overload.

She writhed and whimpered. The sweet friction intensified, as if he were squeezing her. He backed off for a second, only to focus on her nipples and her core. When he reached inside of her, she gasped loud enough to scare crows out of the nearby tree.

“Do you like this, Jade?” his voice murmured in her ear, satisfaction in his tone.

“Yes.”

The vibrant warmth settled on her mouth.

Dutch materialized mid-kiss, unfortunately with his pants on, but he stripped down and kissed her again. She sighed and wrapped her arms around him, grateful for the return of his weight.