Read Online Kiss And Dwell by Kelley St. John - Free Book Online Page B

effort to see his body materialize, but she heard nothing, saw nothing.
    “ Ryan? ” she repeated.
    Had he lied? No, ghosts couldn ’ t lie. One rule that worked to her favor. But she also knew that ghosts had the ability to come and go from one location to the next at will.
    What was taking him so long?
    “ Oh, no, ” she whispered. It had been over three hours since he ’ d left, and he ’ d definitely been sexually charged at the time. No doubt a guy who could fulfill women ’ s dreams would waste no time finding a woman totally willing to take advantage of his talents.
    She flipped over in the bed, pounded both fists against the pillow and wished this damn night would end. Ryan Chappelle was pleasing a female right now, and it wasn ’ t her. Why hadn ’ t she called him sooner?
    Frustrated beyond measure, she flung her hand toward the top drawer of her nightstand and yanked it open. Then she withdrew the vibrator that typically “ got her there ” and grasped it tightly within her hand.
    “ I know these batteries are good. This thing better work. ” She hissed the words toward the ceiling, just in case Adeline Vicknair had taken part in making Monique ’ s night even worse. Why was her grandmother picking on her, anyway? “ Come on, baby. ” Monique flipped the switch then nearly cheered when it buzzed to life.
    “ Come on, baby? ” Ryan repeated, stepping from the shadows. “ Baby? ”
    Lightning spilled through the window and placed his massive body in silhouette .
    The watery glass behind him gave him an eerie aura, making his ghostly glow blur around the edges. He looked, in a word, magnificent.
    Magnificent…and wet.
    “ Where have you been? ” she asked, edging up in the bed to examine the small puddle generating on the floor around his dripping tuxedo. And to think, she ’ d been imagining him all wet all night, and here he was. She switched off the buzzing vibrator. No need for imitations; she had the real thing.
    Tall, dark and dripping.
    “ How did you get so wet? ”
    “ I was about to leave, then I heard your tarp rip. Sounded like thunder, but with more punch. ” He shrugged. “ So I decided to stick around a while and fix it .
    Damn nearly fell off the roof. I have to be careful, you know. Wouldn ’ t want to kill myself. ” He chuckled low, then pushed his hand up his forehead to smooth back damp, dark waves.
    Monique wanted to touch those curls, wanted to know if they were soft and silky, or coarse and springy. Would her fingers pass through the thick bounty easily, or would it twine around her knuckles and tickle her palms? Monique desperately wanted to touch those waves—and everything else. If she could only push the rules out of her head. Was there really a way to be with him without breaking them? And if there was, would he be willing to try?
    “ It ’ s a good thing the wind died down, or that tarp would have ripped completely in two before I had a chance to tack it back down, ” he said, reminding her where he ’ d been when she whispered his name. He ’ d faced that nasty storm head-on, by himself, in order to save their roof and help her family.
    Why?
    “ Is it okay now? ” she asked. “ Will it hold through this storm? ”
    “ You care about this house, don ’ t you? More than you want anyone else to know, right? ” he asked.
    She swallowed, knowing she did care, but also knowing that she ’ d never admitted it out loud before. Admitting she cared about the house meant admitting she cared about the spirits.
    “ It ’ s okay, ” he said. “ I know the answer, Monique. In fact, I know how you feel about lots of things. All part of our bonding, I guess. So tell me, do all spirits connect with you the way I do? ”
    Monique hesitated, refusing to tell him the truth, that no spirit had ever made her feel like this before, like she wanted anything and everything he could give her. But what could he give her if they couldn ’ t touch? She saw him smirk and