He soaped me up, turned me around and scrubbed my back, all the way down my ass and the backs of my legs. “Beautiful,” he murmured.
I tried to turn around to face him, but he kept me facing the wall as he started in on my hair, pulling out each of the braids Kinkly had put in, then scrubbing it. Helping me rinse it out. All very sweet, but while the heat between us hadn’t cooled exactly, it was no longer the frantic need that had consumed us both.
“Crash?”
“Hmm.” He put his mouth to that place where neck meets shoulder and pressed his lips hard against my skin.
“You . . . are you not . . .” Damn it, spit it out, girl! “Are we not having sex?”
He turned me around and kissed me. “When you’ve made your choice. Corb is right—I don’t share well. It’s why Karissa and I parted ways. She wanted a true harem.” He paused, his eyes drifting up and down my body. “If I’m not enough on my own, then I’m not the right one.”
I blinked up at him, the water splashing droplets all over my face. “You know I was teasing about the harem thing earlier.”
“I know you were. But Corb doesn’t. And his kind are more than able to share.” He bent his head and kissed me again, lazy, deep, and the fire rekindled between us, hotter even than before, and once more he was pushing me against the wall. I hooked a leg over his hip, welcoming him to come just that last little bit closer.
I think he might have taken me right there, his body was poised to do just that, and I wiggled to get my legs around his hips, to draw him in. I could have made my decision right there and been happy as a pig in shit for the rest of however long I had Crash.
But, of course, that’s when someone just had to knock from the bedroom.
“Breena, I know you’re in there.”
My ex-husband was at the fricking door.
13
For those who skipped the rest of the last chapter, here’s the recap: Crash and I were getting busy, and we were about to seal the deal when someone knocked on the door.
Anyone would have been upset by that kind of interruption.
But did it really have to be my ex-husband banging on the door? Yelling at me to get my fat ass out of there?
“Who the hell let you in?” I yelled back as I slid down Crash’s body, feeling every inch of him as I went. I whimpered at the loss of what that moment had almost been. He flicked off the shower, bent, and kissed me on the cheek.
“Rain check.”
Rain check indeed. I swatted his ass as he stepped out ahead of me.
Alan banged on the door again. “I have a key. Get out here. What did you say to Corb? I caught him snooping around my place!”
Now, part of me was impressed, because the last time Alan had been here, he’d been stealing my gran’s spell book and the talisman that I wore around my neck. I’d caught him and threatened to make his twig and berries shrivel up and fall off if he ever came back. Not to mention he’d peed himself because Eric had literally scared the piss out of him.
Yet here he was, being a pain in my ass again. That was dedication, I’d give him that. He banged on the door, rattling it hard. “What the hell? Why am I even here? I don’t want to be here!” he yelled.
I blinked and looked at Crash. “Did he just say what I think he said?”
Crash tossed me a towel and wrapped one around his waist. I bundled up and opened the door to see Alan pacing my bedroom, grabbing at his mostly bald head. He wore the same outfit he’d worn to the auction the week before, and he had his hat in his hand. My mouth dropped open. Because . . . well, not because he was there, which was bad enough.
But because he was a damn ghost. “Alan.”
“You did this to me, didn’t you?” He spun and pointed an accusatory finger at me, but my gaze was fixed on the gaping wounds in his neck, like an animal had chewed on him and torn his throat out. I put a hand to my mouth. Blood dripped down Alan’s body, and while it didn’t leave a mark on the floor, I kept glancing at the floor, waiting for it to happen.
“He doesn’t know.” Crash stepped up beside me. “I can only see him a little, but I can tell he doesn’t know.”
Alan pointed a finger at Crash. “Who the hell is this? Are you seriously banging a freak like that?”
I gave my head a little shake as I tried to catch up with this sudden and shocking reality. But a distant part of me wondered what Alan saw in Crash. What did he mean about him being a freak?
But that seemed like a minor question in light of the fact that Alan was in my room, dead. Hating Alan as I did, I didn’t feel terrible about the fact that he’d died, let alone in an obviously shitty way. But it was a problem that he was here. My gran usually didn’t let other ghosts intrude on her territory. “Gran, can you help me out?”
Oh, she’d get a kick out of seeing Crash in nothing but a towel. Almost as if he knew he was in for teasing and a tongue lashing, Crash stepped back into the bathroom. “I’m going to get dressed.”
“You do that,” Alan snapped. “This is ridiculous, you shouldn’t lower yourself to—”
“Shut your piehole.” I snapped my fingers at Alan and his mouth clamped shut, to both of our surprises.
I strode to my dresser and yanked clean clothes out while I waited for Gran to make her appearance.
Alan stalked in front of me, hands waving, mouth not moving, blood everywhere. I mean, not real blood, but still. “Alan. Go stand over by the window and don’t move,” I growled.
He backed up quickly, anger flashing on every part of his face. It was strange to think that at one point I’d loved this man enough to give up my gran, to give up my life here in Savannah. I shook my head. “I was a fool.”
Crash stepped out of the bathroom, jeans on, but the way his eyes heated as he looked over my chest, still topless, told me he’d prefer to have them off. “Do you want me to stay here, while you . . . interview him?”
Alan couldn’t seem to take it anymore. “Interview me? Interview me? What the hell is going on?”
That was a question I wanted answered too. I pulled on my bra and shirt and buttoned my jeans, amazed at how loose they were in the waist and thighs. I’d been so busy the last few weeks, I hadn’t bothered to put on anything but the special leathers Gerry had made for me. Leathers that magically adjusted to my body as my musculature and weight changed.
“Alan, what happened to you?” I turned to face him, motioning for Crash to stay with me.
Alan huffed for a minute. “Well, I was at my rental place working on the computer.” I think he blushed, although it was a little harder to tell with a ghost.
“You mean you were looking at porn,” I drawled. “I caught you more than once, you nincompoop. So you were playing around with yourself and your fake girlfriends. And then what?”
He glared at me. “I do not look at porn. I don’t need it. I have plenty of women who want me.”
I rolled my eyes to the ceiling. What was it about the ceilings in this house that just begged me to stare at them when I couldn’t find the right words? “Look, you were on the computer, and then what?”
“I don’t know,” he said, and there was nothing more pitiful than those three words. “I woke up and everyone acted like they couldn’t see me, including Corb, so I . . . well, I didn’t choose to come here. But I figured you put a spell on me, like you threatened. Because I was just here, and now I can’t leave!”