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Authors: Vivi Andrews
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the two spheres. With her other hand braced on the floor on the opposite side of Wyatt’s head, she tugged ever so gently. Then less gently. The ghosts didn’t so much as budge, so she closed her metaphysical fist around them and yanked.
“Ow!”
Jo would have had more sympathy for Wyatt’s exclamation of pain if his hand hadn’t simultaneously clamped down on her hair and yanked hard enough to have her yelping herself. She collapsed against him, sprawling across his chest.
“Let. Go.”
“I will when you do,” Wyatt ground out from between clenched teeth, but even as he said it, his fingers relaxed.
“I already did,” she said, quickly tucking her hair back behind her ears and out of his reach.
“Then why does it still hurt?” he growled.
Jo propped herself up on his chest. “It still hurts?” She peered at him through her second sight and saw the two ghosts were now zipping around his body like agitated bumblebees. “What does it feel like?”
“Like my body is trying to turn itself inside out.”
“Huh.” Jo tipped her head to the side, considering that one. “Maybe they’re trapped in there. They might even be trying to get out. Here, open your mouth.”
“That’s your solution?” he barked. “Open my mouth?”
“Do you have to argue about everything? If it makes you feel better you can yell at me, just do it with your mouth open nice and wide. Go on.”
He glared, but obediently opened his mouth.
Jo leaned forward, shaking away the mild distraction caused by his minty-fresh breath, and sent a tendril of energy past his tonsils and down his throat. “Here, little ghosties…”
He made a choking noise that might have been his signature throat-clearing if not for the fact that his mouth was wide open. He started to close his jaw. Jo wrapped her hand around his chin and forced it down. “Open!”
She sent a piece of her energy snaking into him a second time, guiding it through the dense warmth of his life-force, so different from the ghosts she usually dealt with. She searched for that other quality of energy, the cool after-impression of life, rather than the pounding heartbeat of vitality that pulsed through his veins, drowning out every other sensation, washing over her in a drugging rush.
“This is so weird,” she murmured to herself, drawing back enough to get a sense of where she was again before diving back in. His hands were braced on either side of her waist, holding her steady on top of him. All at once, Jo was powerfully aware of the intimacy of their position. Her uptight businessman lay on his back on the floor of his office, with her draped on top of him like a cashmere throw, clinging and limp.
Jo felt heat rushing to her face—not to mention all of her erogenous zones—and cleared her throat. She was immediately struck by a horrifying thought. What if every time he cleared his throat, he was trying to get his brain out of the gutter? Did Wyatt Haines actually have the hots for her?
“Jo?”
Oh God. She was gaping at him like an idiot. “Just, ah, just give me a couple more seconds,” she said hurriedly, slapping an I-am-peering-into-your-soul-with-my-super-ghost-vision expression onto her face, which hopefully did not resemble her I-am-thinking-of-stripping-you-naked-and-covering-your-body-with-chocolate-syrup-just-so-I-can-lick-it-off expression.
Unfortunately, she couldn’t seem to focus enough to actually peer into his soul. Her brain was unnecessarily cluttered with random trivia like damn, he smells amazing, and his hands are so big and feel so good.
Jo shifted against him, in theory to get a better look down his throat, but really just to feel him better. She was right above him now, eye to eye. If she leaned down, just a little closer…
“Mr. Haines, your three o’clock call is—oh.” Moonbeam froze two steps into the office.
Jo rolled off of Wyatt and quickly scrambled to her feet. She’d almost kissed him. Shit . She’d definitely
“Ow!”
Jo would have had more sympathy for Wyatt’s exclamation of pain if his hand hadn’t simultaneously clamped down on her hair and yanked hard enough to have her yelping herself. She collapsed against him, sprawling across his chest.
“Let. Go.”
“I will when you do,” Wyatt ground out from between clenched teeth, but even as he said it, his fingers relaxed.
“I already did,” she said, quickly tucking her hair back behind her ears and out of his reach.
“Then why does it still hurt?” he growled.
Jo propped herself up on his chest. “It still hurts?” She peered at him through her second sight and saw the two ghosts were now zipping around his body like agitated bumblebees. “What does it feel like?”
“Like my body is trying to turn itself inside out.”
“Huh.” Jo tipped her head to the side, considering that one. “Maybe they’re trapped in there. They might even be trying to get out. Here, open your mouth.”
“That’s your solution?” he barked. “Open my mouth?”
“Do you have to argue about everything? If it makes you feel better you can yell at me, just do it with your mouth open nice and wide. Go on.”
He glared, but obediently opened his mouth.
Jo leaned forward, shaking away the mild distraction caused by his minty-fresh breath, and sent a tendril of energy past his tonsils and down his throat. “Here, little ghosties…”
He made a choking noise that might have been his signature throat-clearing if not for the fact that his mouth was wide open. He started to close his jaw. Jo wrapped her hand around his chin and forced it down. “Open!”
She sent a piece of her energy snaking into him a second time, guiding it through the dense warmth of his life-force, so different from the ghosts she usually dealt with. She searched for that other quality of energy, the cool after-impression of life, rather than the pounding heartbeat of vitality that pulsed through his veins, drowning out every other sensation, washing over her in a drugging rush.
“This is so weird,” she murmured to herself, drawing back enough to get a sense of where she was again before diving back in. His hands were braced on either side of her waist, holding her steady on top of him. All at once, Jo was powerfully aware of the intimacy of their position. Her uptight businessman lay on his back on the floor of his office, with her draped on top of him like a cashmere throw, clinging and limp.
Jo felt heat rushing to her face—not to mention all of her erogenous zones—and cleared her throat. She was immediately struck by a horrifying thought. What if every time he cleared his throat, he was trying to get his brain out of the gutter? Did Wyatt Haines actually have the hots for her?
“Jo?”
Oh God. She was gaping at him like an idiot. “Just, ah, just give me a couple more seconds,” she said hurriedly, slapping an I-am-peering-into-your-soul-with-my-super-ghost-vision expression onto her face, which hopefully did not resemble her I-am-thinking-of-stripping-you-naked-and-covering-your-body-with-chocolate-syrup-just-so-I-can-lick-it-off expression.
Unfortunately, she couldn’t seem to focus enough to actually peer into his soul. Her brain was unnecessarily cluttered with random trivia like damn, he smells amazing, and his hands are so big and feel so good.
Jo shifted against him, in theory to get a better look down his throat, but really just to feel him better. She was right above him now, eye to eye. If she leaned down, just a little closer…
“Mr. Haines, your three o’clock call is—oh.” Moonbeam froze two steps into the office.
Jo rolled off of Wyatt and quickly scrambled to her feet. She’d almost kissed him. Shit . She’d definitely
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