Read Online Ever After by Odessa Gillespie Black - Free Book Online
Authors: Odessa Gillespie Black
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seen thousands of times before, but where I didn’t know, slid across his tanned cheeks, putting his red lips in a gorgeous smirk. He rifled around in a sack beside him, brought out some worms, and jerked his line in. When he tossed the hook to my feet and slid a bowl of pulsating dirt against the hem of my dress, my stomach churned, but I sat down.
“You ever put a worm on a hook?” he asked, just one corner of his lips turning up. My heart hiccupped. God, he was gorgeous.
Sitting knees to the side, I blushed when the dress’s bodice pushed even more cleavage into his visibility. The devilish grin diminished.
“I bet you’re too scared,” he said, his voice low, gravelly, and tantalizing.
I fell more into the dream, as certain details about her life sewed themselves in place of mine. They, I’m not sure who all that entailed, but they always thought I was just a little girl. Not caring that doing so increased the eyeful he’d already gotten, I leaned forward and took the pole. His eyes simmered into a gaze he’d given me a time or two, but my older sister always interrupted the moments.
Determination welled inside me. I hated worms, dirt, and anything that yielded poking the guts out of a living creature.
“I’m not scared to try anything once.” I shot him a meaningful glance.
He leaned back on his elbows, his eyebrows furrowing, a devilish smile on his sun-warmed cheeks.
The fat worm wriggled in the soil and would surely ruin my dress. This was not sexy. It wiggled between my fingers, begging for one last chance at life.
I took a deep breath and stabbed the worm. Pink tinged guts came out on the end of the hook. My stomach lurched, but I held my composure.
“You might just have some potential.” The guy’s brow rose with a smirk. He threw a piece of grass at me. When I ducked my head and batted my lashes shyly, his grin fell away. He put the fishing pole against a tree.
He tilted his head, his pupils dilating as he looked into me instead of at me. In that moment, the earth shattered and reassembled itself. A million butterflies lifted my stomach into my chest when he scooted over, laying down more grass as he took the place beside me. For a few seconds, the air was thick. Heat prickled my face as his lips neared mine.
Then I knew. I loved him.
“Potential for what?” A high-pitched blast came from behind us.
We jumped apart. A girl, a few years my senior, jabbed her fists into her hips and from her dark brown eyes, shot me daggers of hatred. “Mama’s looking for you.”
The dream fizzled away, and I floated for a few seconds. Then my legs pumped against the ground, my lungs searing.
A rotting corpse was three feet behind me and gaining speed. I turned, slid, and darted between walls of endless roses, their thorns catching the skirts of my dress.
She got a handful of fabric and jerked.
I flailed, slipping from her grip. Fabric tore. I tripped on a cement bench in the next turn and limped on the stinging knee. Rose-briars sliced my face. When I could breathe no longer, I collapsed in the corner of two rose walls, thorns prickling my back.
Bony fingers reached through the wall and bit into my shoulders. The corpse pulled me kicking and screaming through the thorny partition.
Chapter 4
Covered in perspiration, I jerked upright in bed.
“The curse is upon you. One of you has to die.” A throaty, female voice followed me out of the nightmare. No cuts on my arms. No slashes on my face. But the musky scent of roses filled the air.
Trembling uncontrollably, I crawled back to the center of the headboard.
A bathroom. A dressing room. A picture window at dawn. A canopy bed. Antique everything.
Stupid nightmares. I missed my hot, faceless ghost guy.
Jerking a blanket over my face, I nestled under the covers.
Dealing with cranky Cole Kinsley in the morning would require a fresh mind and a body rested enough to keep up with his athletic pace. Operation Torture Cole Kinsley
“You ever put a worm on a hook?” he asked, just one corner of his lips turning up. My heart hiccupped. God, he was gorgeous.
Sitting knees to the side, I blushed when the dress’s bodice pushed even more cleavage into his visibility. The devilish grin diminished.
“I bet you’re too scared,” he said, his voice low, gravelly, and tantalizing.
I fell more into the dream, as certain details about her life sewed themselves in place of mine. They, I’m not sure who all that entailed, but they always thought I was just a little girl. Not caring that doing so increased the eyeful he’d already gotten, I leaned forward and took the pole. His eyes simmered into a gaze he’d given me a time or two, but my older sister always interrupted the moments.
Determination welled inside me. I hated worms, dirt, and anything that yielded poking the guts out of a living creature.
“I’m not scared to try anything once.” I shot him a meaningful glance.
He leaned back on his elbows, his eyebrows furrowing, a devilish smile on his sun-warmed cheeks.
The fat worm wriggled in the soil and would surely ruin my dress. This was not sexy. It wiggled between my fingers, begging for one last chance at life.
I took a deep breath and stabbed the worm. Pink tinged guts came out on the end of the hook. My stomach lurched, but I held my composure.
“You might just have some potential.” The guy’s brow rose with a smirk. He threw a piece of grass at me. When I ducked my head and batted my lashes shyly, his grin fell away. He put the fishing pole against a tree.
He tilted his head, his pupils dilating as he looked into me instead of at me. In that moment, the earth shattered and reassembled itself. A million butterflies lifted my stomach into my chest when he scooted over, laying down more grass as he took the place beside me. For a few seconds, the air was thick. Heat prickled my face as his lips neared mine.
Then I knew. I loved him.
“Potential for what?” A high-pitched blast came from behind us.
We jumped apart. A girl, a few years my senior, jabbed her fists into her hips and from her dark brown eyes, shot me daggers of hatred. “Mama’s looking for you.”
The dream fizzled away, and I floated for a few seconds. Then my legs pumped against the ground, my lungs searing.
A rotting corpse was three feet behind me and gaining speed. I turned, slid, and darted between walls of endless roses, their thorns catching the skirts of my dress.
She got a handful of fabric and jerked.
I flailed, slipping from her grip. Fabric tore. I tripped on a cement bench in the next turn and limped on the stinging knee. Rose-briars sliced my face. When I could breathe no longer, I collapsed in the corner of two rose walls, thorns prickling my back.
Bony fingers reached through the wall and bit into my shoulders. The corpse pulled me kicking and screaming through the thorny partition.
Chapter 4
Covered in perspiration, I jerked upright in bed.
“The curse is upon you. One of you has to die.” A throaty, female voice followed me out of the nightmare. No cuts on my arms. No slashes on my face. But the musky scent of roses filled the air.
Trembling uncontrollably, I crawled back to the center of the headboard.
A bathroom. A dressing room. A picture window at dawn. A canopy bed. Antique everything.
Stupid nightmares. I missed my hot, faceless ghost guy.
Jerking a blanket over my face, I nestled under the covers.
Dealing with cranky Cole Kinsley in the morning would require a fresh mind and a body rested enough to keep up with his athletic pace. Operation Torture Cole Kinsley
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