Page 67 of If I Stopped Haunting You

“Let her watch.”

“Neil.”

“Okay, forget the ghost for a second. We don’t have to havesex. There are other things I could do,” he went on. His hand tightened around hers, squeezing above them as she pressed against him, shifting her hips. “I want to make you come.”

She paused for a dreadfully long moment. “Better make it quick.”

“I plan to take my time.”

His fingers slipped under her sweater, teasing the space between her jeans. He toyed with her button before popping it free, his hand inching down and under the band of her underwear. He was torturing her, her breath coming quicker, her body poised and waiting as his fingers skated down her front and to the heat between her legs. She jerked against him as his middle finger slid along her clit, and he groaned.

“You’re so wet.”

“Neil,” she panted as his finger began circling.

A second finger joined the first, applying more pressure along her folds. She was so wet and so warm, and the realization that it was because of him made Neil grit his teeth, the circles over her clit turning tight and fast. Penelope threw back her head against hischest, her scent flooding his senses. She reached down and covered his hand with hers, gently guiding him slightly to the right, pressing the heel of his hand against her, and the reaction was almost visceral. It was incredibly hot to know what she wanted, how she wanted it, and he leaned forward and ran his teeth down the shell of her ear, groaning as her nails dug into the back of his hand.

“Neil,” she repeated, voice low and sexy. He would never tire of hearing her say his name.

She bucked under him, gasping as he spread her legs. Her hand slid out from between her legs, and she reached up to cup his neck, tugging him down for a messy kiss as he slipped in one finger, then another. Her lips parted under him, her breath hitching as he increased the pressure of his heel.

“Faster,” she gasped.

More books tumbled around them, but he didn’t care, not as she settled against him, her hips gyrating as he pumped his fingers in and out of her, picking up speed. Her nails dug into his thigh, and she buried her face in her sweater, gasping silently as she shook. He slowed his fingers before stopping altogether, panting as time seemed to slow.

“That was probably the best orgasm I’ve had in a really long time,” she admitted, leaning against him.

“You certainly helped.”

“I prefer to show people what I like rather than wait for them to figure it out.”

His cock was rock hard, but Neil didn’t care. He slid his hand free, and she turned to watch as he sucked on his fingers, relishing the sweet and salty taste. “You taste even better than I could have imagined.”

“Would you stop that?” she said, laughing as she pressed her hands to her flaming face.

“Are you embarrassed?”

“No, well, yes, but not because of… it’s not that…” She sighed. “It was great, okay? Fuck, it was fantastic. Thank you? Do people say thank you for sex?” She ducked her head and stepped away, face red as she straightened her clothes. “But I’m reinstating the five-foot rule so we can return to important ghost things,” she rasped, buttoning up her pants.

“Fair enough,” he said, adjusting himself and grinning like a fool.

So, he trailed after her, four feet and ten inches between them, because five feet was simply too far.

“If the boy is Archie, then who is the woman?” Penelope called. “Is she a murderess? Did she perish alone? Why is she still here and haunting the west wing?”

“I don’t know.”

He followed her around the study like a dog, stopping to inspect in the corners. The more they hunted for truths, the more flaws Neil noticed in the castle’s structures—the cracks and crevices that had grown, hidden behind books and plants and tapestries. He could see the traces of water damage even more clearly.

There was a bit of mold flourishing in a corner behind a couch, a long, snaking crack that had been filled in more than once behind a line of children’s fiction from the thirties. The castle was falling apart, that much was clear. The instances were small, difficult to find among the things filling the castle, but they were there, hidden like little secrets.

Journal open in her hands, Penelope wandered along the bookshelves, searching the titles. “Are you looking?” she called.

Neil nodded, intent on her curves. “Yup.”

“Are you sure about that?”

He met her blank stare.