Page 84 of Haunt Me, Maybe

Inside, the air smelled of old wood, oil, and dust. A tight spiral staircase climbed the wall, its wooden treads worn smooth by decades of footsteps. We went up slowly—me first, him close behind with one hand at the small of my back. Every creak of the stairs felt intimate in the quiet.

At the top, the clock room opened wide. Four arched windows faced the cardinal directions, and the eastern one framed the sunrise perfectly. Gold and rose spilled across the treetops while the valley stretched below like a quilt stitched from frost and fire.

I stepped to the window, pressing my palms against the cool stone sill, and Wes came up behind me, so close that I felt the shape of him.

“Best view in town,” he murmured near my ear. “I used to come up here a lot when I was a kid.”

The image of him, young and reckless as he climbed these stairs to catch the sunrise, made something tighten in my chest. We stood like that as the light strengthened, painting the gears gold.

I stared out at the town I’d started to love and felt the questions rise. If we didn’t fail, if Gideon came and we won…what then? A life with Wes? A happily ever after with a ghost who didn’t age, didn’t sleep, didn’t need food or air or anything a living body required?

Could we build something long-lasting here? Or would I wrinkle and slow and change while he remained exactly as he was—preserved in this impossible, perfect state? That’s what living while being in love with a ghost would look like.

The thought made my throat close, and I went still. Wes noticed immediately. Of course he did. Turning me gently, his hands lifted to frame my face. The touch was cool against my warmed skin, grounding and destabilizing all at once.

“What are you thinking, Trouble?”

I opened my mouth, closed it. The truth felt too big, too fragile.

“Just…the future,” I admitted. “About what happens if we pull this off.”

He seemed to understand as his thumbs brushed my cheekbones in such a gentle sweep. “We’ll figure it out.”

I wanted to believe him. But time was merciless, and I was painfully, undeniably mortal. He studied me for another long moment, reading everything I didn’t say. Then his mouth curved. A wick of heat sparked in his eyes.

“If my tour isn’t distracting enough,” he murmured, stepping closer. “Then clearly, I need to improve my methods.”

The space between us vanished. Wes’s hand slid from my face to the back of my neck, fingers threading lightly into my hair as he dipped his head. He kissed me slowly at first, as if he had all the time in the world.

Which he did. I was the one who didn’t.

The gears ticked softly somewhere above us while his other hand found my waist and pushed me back until my spine met cool brick. The contrast of solid stone at my back and the press of him at my front made my breath catch.

My hands slid under his shirt, and he groaned, hips pressing against me harder. His teeth grazed lightly along my lower lip before soothing the sting with his tongue.

I wanted this, but I knew heartbreak waited at the end of this road, no matter how far.

“Wes—”

“Shh,” he rumbled against my mouth. “Let me make you forget for a minute.”

His hands moved under my sweater, cool fingers tracing my ribs, my waist. I arched into him, breath hitching when he found the edge of my bra and slipped beneath it. His thumb brushed my nipple in slow circles, and I moaned, unable to keep my hips from rocking.

He pressed his thigh between mine, giving me friction and pressure, and I ground down instinctively to chase the heat that was building low and fast.

Wes growled against my throat, and the sound vibrated straight through me. His hips rolled, pinning me to the brick, the rough texture grazing my back in the best way. One hand fisted in my hair, tilting my head back so he could scrape his teeth along my pulse point, and my gasp echoed in the otherwise silent room.

“Fuck,” he breathed, voice wrecked. “You keep making those sounds, and I’m gonna lose it right here.” I whimpered, and he shivered, as if it ruined him. “We need to stop,” he rasped, even as his thigh pressed higher between my legs, giving me more of that delicious friction. “Before I can’t.”

I didn’t want to stop. We were so far past that now. I’d accept the consequences when they came and hope they didn’t destroy me. I kissed him again, desperate and open-mouthed.

I poured everything I couldn’t say into it. Wes groaned into my mouth, kissed me back like he was starving, and then broke free. My hands were already moving, reaching for his belt and fumbling with my arch nemesis…that fucking buckle.

“Aven—” He said my name as a warning.

“I don’t care,” I whispered, fingers trembling but determined. “I want it to be you.”

He cursed again and sealed his lips to mine in a bruising kiss. When he pulled back, his eyes were nearly black, pupils blown wide.