He allowed me to drag him back up, and his lips captured mine in a tender, sultry kiss so beautiful it made me shiver with emotion. At the same moment, a series of images flashed through my mind, just glimpses of being kissed the same way years before, leaning my head back as my lover traced kisses down my throat, found my breasts… A rush of emotions overwhelmed me every time I remembered that night, that cherished, magical night, when the man whose face still eluded me had made love to me so gently, like I was something fragile and precious, a treasure of unimaginable worth, and in doing so had given me the most beautiful gift of all.
But vague memories were nothing compared to the man who held me, whose kisses brought me to the brink, drove me mad with desire, filled my heart till itached. And new erotic images played in my mind, flashes of Whit making love to me, guiding me toward heights of desire and pleasure like none I’d even dared to imagine.
But those erotic images were abruptly interrupted by a burst of pain behind my eyes. I winced and pulled back, squeezing my eyes shut as I waited for the pain to fade.
“Are you okay?” Whit asked softly. “Should we stop?”
I shook my head. “No,” I said, still reeling from the brief headache that was already vanishing. “No, please don’t stop. I want this, Whit. I wantyou.”
He studied me for a moment longer, still hesitant, his expression so loving, so tender, my throat grew tight. Then his lips found mine in a kiss that spoke the love in his eyes, and his hands splayed across my bare back, pressing me closer. When he ended the kiss, the hunger in his eyes was both thrilling and unnerving.
But then he eased down onto his knees, pressing kisses to my belly, my hip, dragging my panties down, baring me to him. And when he lifted my leg to remove my shoe, he brushed a kiss to the inside of my thigh, repeating the whisper of a kiss on my other thigh as he removed my remaining shoe. His hands slid up my thighs to my waist as he kissed a path on my hip to my belly, pausing to lave my bellybutton. I gasped at the unexpected sensation then shivered as the rumble of his deep chuckle vibrated against my skin.
When he turned his face up to me, his wicked grin growing, I grasped his tie and urged him up the rest of the way. Then we were edging back toward his bed, slow, unhurried steps as his lips found mine again, one kiss ending and where another began.
I pulled at his tie, sliding it down his chest, letting my fingertips brush against the muscles beneath his shirt. And then I was tearing at the buttons, pushing his shirt off his shoulders, longing to touch his skin. My hands explored his chest, his back, savoring every inch, then traveled lower to his waist, undoing his belt. Then our fingers fumbled together in our haste to remove the last barrier between us.
Whit sucked in a deep breath and broke our kiss, squeezing his eyes shut as I caressed him. Emboldened by his reaction, I gently shoved his shoulder, and he obediently eased down onto the bed, pulling me with him, his fiery gaze holding mine.
With a wicked smirk, I unhooked my bra and tossed it to the floor. Then one by one, I removed the pins from my hair, letting it fall around my shoulders.
He sat up, propping himself with one elbow then grasped the back of my neck to pull me to him for a long, sultry kiss that made me shudder.
I moaned when he drew the kiss to a close, my aching need for him growing unbearable.
Without a word, he reached around me to the bedside table, searching for a few frenzied seconds before finding a condom and slipping it on. In the next moment, he grasped my hips, guiding me, easing me down, joining our bodies.
Now it was my turn to gasp. We began to move together, unhurried, giving ourselves over to the pleasure building between us with each sensual motion. I let my head fall back, closed my eyes, loving the feel of him inside me, the way he filled me—body and soul.
He sat up, pulling me against him. And when I was overtaken by that blissful release, I breathed his name, my fingernails digging into his back as I curled into him. And then I was falling, his hand gently cradling my head as he rolled me onto my back.
He peered down at me as he began to move again. I wrapped my arms around his neck and pulled him down to me, capturing his mouth, unable to get enough of him. And when he tensed and buried his face in my hair with a groan, I shuddered with him, held him close, smoothed his broad shoulders, seared the beauty of the moment into my memory so that I would never forget it when my beautiful fairytale ended.
We lay together, refusing to look at the time, fingers entwined, my head resting on his shoulder, holding onto the happiness that enveloped us.
But eventually, he sighed.
“We should probably head back to Dawes House,” he said but making no move to rise.
I turned into him, snuggling closer. “I don’t want to go back to Dawes House,” I admitted. “If Henry wasn’t there…”
His arms tightened around me. “Something tells me that the reluctance to leave isn’t all to do with me. What else is going on? I thought you liked it there.”
I sat up, briefly surprised that I didn’t feel self-conscious when the sheets slipped down and pooled at my waist, leaving my breasts bare. He’d now known the most intimate parts of me. What was the point in hiding anything anymore? He would either accept all of me or this beautiful dream would come to an end.
“There’s more to the hauntings,” I said quietly. “So much more.”
I told him all of it—the screaming woman in the bloody nightgown who I’d seen the first night but hadn’t realized she was a spirit, the drowning woman, the woman in the wall. I told him about the drawings I’d found, the dreams of Susanna and her forced marriage to Josef Profitt, the pregnancy she’d tried to end out of terror for what she carried inside her.
“I’m so grateful for everything you’ve done for me, Whit, and for what the others have done,” I told him. “The friendship everyone at Dawes House has shown me has meant more to me than any of them will ever know. But I can’t stay there any longer than I have to. I’m afraid of what might happen to me or to Henry.”
When I finished, he sat in silence, his expression unreadable. Then he reached for me, cupping my cheek. “I had no idea. Of course, you can’t stay there, not with everything you’ve been dealing with.”
A huge weight lifted. “You believe me?”
His thumb grazed my skin. “Zellie, if you tell me all these things have happened, then I believe you.” He drew me back into his arms and held me for a while before speaking again. “There are other properties. You can pick whichever one you want.”
“I’m not sure it will matter where I go,” I admitted. “If they want to give me a message badly enough, they’ll eventually find me.”
