Page 13 of The Ghost and the Graveyard (Knight Games 1)
Eyes locked onto his, I tangled my fingers in the dark curls at the back of his head. Coaxing his face toward mine, I returned his gentle kiss but then demanded more. I ran my tongue along the place where his lips touched.
"Open for me," I murmured in a husky version of my voice.
He gasped. It was all the invitation I needed. I couldn't resist. I slid my tongue between his teeth in a deep, wanting kiss. I thrust into his mouth, a crude imitation of what I wanted him to do to me. What my body begged for.
The heat from our lips flowed down my chest, made my stomach tighten, and moved lower. I bit his lip. Oh, he tasted good. He made a low sound like a growl and smoothed his hand over my hip. Lust rippled through me, leaving me hot and wet between my legs, my body ready for him in an instant. Lord, I wanted him. An unexpected combination of sexual attraction and possessiveness I'd never experienced took over, and the desire absolutely owned me.
"You make me burn," he whispered into my mouth.
"The feeling is mutual."
His hand circled to the small of my back, pulled me hard against his chest. A string of syllables came out of his throat in a language I didn't know but in a tone I completely understood. Rick wanted me too. My insides liquefied. My will was not my own.
I clawed the back of his head and scissored my legs to get closer to him. Why, I don't know. No room remained between us as it was. He trailed kisses down my throat and pulled the neck of my T-shirt aside to continue his mouth's exploration. Meanwhile, his other hand skimmed up my ribs, cupping and lifting my breast to bring his lips achingly close to the black lace of my bra. Electricity coursed through my body.
"Oh!"
Frantically, I worked one hand into the neck of his shirt, unbuttoning with the other. Light-headed, like when I was a kid and would run downhill so fast I thought I'd trip, I slid my fingers across his chest. That's when I felt a ridge of flesh on his left pec.
I pulled back. A crude, hooked scar marred the skin over his heart. It almost looked like he'd been branded.
Searing pain, a red-hot railroad spike, sliced through my skull. I buried my face in his opposite shoulder, hoping the headache would go away. "What happened here?" I managed, my touch lingering.
"A mark of my profession. The caretaker's scythe."
"I didn't know caretakers had a mark. Is that like how Marines get the same tattoo?"
"Not all of them." His expression changed, closing off, and he pulled his shirt back over his chest. He cleared his throat and began buttoning.
All at once, awareness that I was making out with a complete stranger hit me upside the head. I backed off, straightening my shirt in the process. This wasn't even a date, and I was practically jumping this guy. Disappointed in myself, I frowned. Had I no self-control?
"What's wrong?"
"Nothing..." My mouth hung open while I found the words. "I'm not usually like this. I got a little ahead of myself." Understatement of the year. After Gary, I should've remained three feet away from anyone who peed standing up.
"I'm not complaining, mi cielo." He gently wrapped his hands around my wrists and pulled me back to him. "Maybe we did get ahead of ourselves, but only because there's something here worth moving toward." He flashed brilliantly white teeth.
"What did you just call me?"
"Mi cielo? Literally, the phrase means 'my sky.' It's a term of endearment." He wrapped an arm around my shoulders, pulling me into his side. We snuggled like that, in front of the TV, content to be in each other's company.
Sometime after midnight, I woke as Rick gently positioned me on the couch. I'd fallen asleep in his arms. Before he left, he moved the ugly bouquet from the dining room to the coffee table near my head. The door clicked shut behind him, and I drifted back to sleep.
Yeah, About My New House
The stench of dirty feet brought me to my senses. Where was I? I sat up and cracked my back. Memories of the night lingered like a bad case of food poisoning. What the hell happened last night? I'd sworn to stay off men until I had time to heal. After the Gary incident, I'd had to go to therapy, months of soul-wrenching therapy where I promised myself I wouldn't hand my future over to the next guy who came along. I'd given Gary control of all of my financial resources because I thought I loved him. Who does that? I'll tell you who. Push-overs. Women who need boundaries. I needed boundaries. I needed control. I needed to not straddle every cemetery caretaker who walked through my door.
I'd crossed a line into mildly slutty last night. I slapped my forehead, which was beginning to throb in protest of yesterday's alcohol ingestion. With a deep breath, I decided there was no need to berate myself. So, I'd slipped. I chalked it up to the wine and the stress of moving into the new house. Nothing too serious had happened. Last night was a test, one I'd barely passed. Obviously, Rick was my catnip. Now that I understood his effect on me, I would be more careful around him.
I cracked my back again. The family room couch did not make a good bed. Light streamed between the wood blinds. Crap. I glanced at my watch and then leaped to my feet. I'd have to hustle if I was going to make my shift at the hospital and, unfortunately, I hadn't unpacked my moving box. I'd have to dig out my scrubs and bathroom sundries.
Hauling my awkward cargo up to the bedroom, I retrieved all of my stuff and took the world's fastest shower. The mirror was covered in a thick layer of steam, and I struggled to get ready with a throbbing headache on top of impaired vision.
"Ow!" I yanked the mascara wand out of my eye. I was going to look like a raccoon if I wasn't careful. A raccoon with a migraine.
I dug in my purse for some ibuprofen and gulped them down with water from the sink. That's when my hangover became the least of my worries. I had the distinct impression that someone was watching me.
"Hello?" I called, sticking my head out the bathroom door.
