“Thought that was already evident?” I smirk lazily, knowing my non-answer is going to bug the shit out of him until he demands that I give him the details.
It’s then I notice the guys all have a piece of equipment aimed my way. So that’s what all the commotion was. Macklin has the EMF meter. Cole with the digital voice recorder. Levi has a thermal imaging camera, and Thad has a video camera.
Just fucking fantastic. This moment will be replayed and re-lived just to torment me for years to come.
“I’ve got to say,” Mack starts, “that was one hell of a show of power. She drained every single one of our batteries. And she’s got control too.”
“I would agree with that statement. Her control was phenomenal,” I respond, sending the twins into simultaneous groans of envy.
“Knox, what did you feel?” Cole asks, a hint of his power in the question.
I release a long sigh.
“She’s lonely. Almost desperately so. She knew I could see her, figuratively, of course, and took advantage of the unique connection we seem to have. It was like…” I trail off, trying to come up with the words to describe the feeling of her ghostly hand on me in words that won’t make me sound as desperate for a repeat as I am. “Like all of her desire and need coalesced into this electrifying sensation, but there was no pain. Just really, really intense pleasure. I couldn’t stop my body from reacting. It’s like it recognized the feeling and welcomed it.”
That last part is what worries me the most.
“Now I need to get cleaned up.”
I feel her presence slowly fade away, satisfaction and a hint of sadness both trailing in her wake.
“She’s gone,” I murmur.
Her departure leaves me with an emptiness that doesn’t make sense. A lingering hint of vanilla and cinnamon remains, reminding me of my favorite snickerdoodle cookies, stirring up a longing somewhere deep inside me. I just want to eat her up. Which is beyond weird since she’s a fucking ghost.
“We should probably all head to bed and get some rest. Something tells me we’ll need to stay sharp around here,” Macklin suggests.
“Agreed,” Cole mutters. “Head to bed. That’s an order. We’ll figure out the rest in the morning after a good night’s sleep.”
The chill in the night air has me slowly coming awake, and for a second, I can’t remember where I am. After years of traveling and not having a home base, places start to blur together.
I’m in a fairly comfortable bed. Sheets and comforter must have been kicked off at some point as they’re tangled around my feet. I manage to open my eyes, though my body protests. Lying on my right side, I’m facing the only window in the room - which I confirm is closed - and can just make out the leaves from the ivy plant growing around the outside window.
That’s right. Illinois. Haunted house. Coming in my pants. A ghost who is quickly taking over most of my thoughts. Good times.
It’s 3:15 in the morning, and the illumination from the alarm app on my phone is the only light in the room. What in the hell woke me up? I close my eyes, roll over, and get comfortable, fully intending to go back to sleep.
The faintest shift of air in front of my face has my eyes flying open this time. For a moment, I’m frozen - my body refusing to move. I force my heart rate to slow down and my breathing to calm, even as panic grips me.
Because a few inches from my face, she sleeps. A slender nose, turned up just slightly at the tip. Her almond-shaped eyes are closed with long lashes brushing her transparent cheeks. Her lips are large and full, completely kissable, though they’re relaxed in sleep. With one arm bent under her head, the other is stretched out and halfway through my body.
I’ve found my wake up call.
Trying not to make a sound, I take in the rest of our little ghost, as there’s no doubt that this is she. I can sense her somewhere deep inside of me. Something urging me to close the gap between us.
Her long hair is in messy waves, flowing over her shoulder and spread out on the pillow behind her, the exact color lost in shades of darkness. She’s wearing a t-shirt with short shorts, but the simplicity of that does nothing to cool my rush of desire. This time I can’t even blame it on her. I feel nothing from her but a sense of peace as she sleeps, unaware of my inspection.
I slowly lift my right hand, wanting to know if I can touch her. Feel her. Is she responsible for the sudden drop in temperature, as ghosts have been known to be? Is she made up of mist or just shadow and light?
Just before my fingers brush over her arm, her eyes open. I can’t discern the color, as transparency doesn’t allow that, but they’re strangely beautiful in a haunting sort of way. She starts to pull her arm back, her gaze catching on my hand frozen in midair. Her eyes fly to mine, and I watch as they widen in surprise. Her lips part, and I should be ashamed of all of the ways my brain tells me I could put those pouty lips to use...but I’m not. Not one fucking bit. Because she wants it too.
She quickly shoots up to her knees, and I rush to follow, freezing when we both find ourselves kneeling on the bed, facing each other. I tower over her by at least a few inches. The fact that I can see the outline of the door through her hazy form is a little disconcerting, but now I’ve got a clear view of her spectacular ghostly body. My eyes roam. From the hair that lays in sexy waves down to the middle of her back, to the short shorts that stop at the bottom of her ass cheeks. Her t-shirt is tight, hugging ethereal curves that are starting to make morning wood become a reality, definitely something I never thought would be an issue in this line of work.
She’s younger than I would have expected. Maybe mid-twenties. The slogan across her shirt reads #GhostGirlProblems, and I can’t stop the tilt of my lips at her apparent sense of humor. Who is this delicious anomaly?
A small pang of sadness hits me when I realize that whoever she once was, those days have passed. She won’t get to leave this place unless it’s to find peace on the other side and will never get to experience the life she could have had.
She tilts her head as though she senses the sudden shift of my thoughts. She’s nervous and unsure, but I can also sense her surprise and a heavy dose of anticipation.
“I’m Knox,” I whisper, not wanting to startle her.
Her lips move, but I hear nothing.
“Wait. I can’t hear you. Say it again, slower.”
I watch those luscious lips intently as they form what must be her name.
“One more time.”
I receive a quick flash of frustration, but she tries again.
“Fay?”
She shakes her head and rolls her eyes. The irritation level in the room isn’t the only thing skyrocketing; my dick is rising with every movement of her perfect fucking mouth.
I watch as she tries one more time, putting so much emphasis on the last part that my face is hit with a blast of cold air.
“Did you just ghost spit on me?” I ask with obvious amusement.
Her eyes widen, and she throws her head back in soundless laughter. I desperately wish I could hear every noise this gorgeous creature makes.
Once her laughter stops, she starts to do something with her hands. Is she... signing?
I bring my hand up to run through my bed tousled hair because...shit! I don’t know what the hell she’s trying to tell me. I could yell for Macklin, but a part of me doesn’t want to have to share her with someone else - even one of my brothers - when I’ve just found her.