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“What do I get to call you?” He asked.
I put my drink down and turned toward him on the couch. “If you want to go upstairs, you can call me anything you want.” It was the boldest thing I’d probably ever said, but this thing between us had me feeling like a different version of myself. A better, more confident, sexier version.
“Let’s go,” he said.
We practically sprinted up the stairs, and the second I’d crossed the threshold into the bedroom, Michael caught my wrist and pulled me into his chest. For a few beats, he held me close and just looked down at me with those expressive blue eyes, and then he smiled and leaned in, pressing his lips to mine.
The kiss was slow and teasing, a current of control that was at odds with the wild thrashing inside my body every time Michael looked at me that way or touched me. But after a moment, his tongue swept the seam of my lips and the kiss deepened, and he walked with me toward the bed, pushing me back until the mattress hit my thighs.
We broke the kiss only long enough to scoot into the center of the mattress, Michael hovering over me for a long moment. I stared up at him, beginning to feel both impatient and a little uncomfortable under his intense scrutiny.
“What?” I laughed, reaching for him.
“You,” he said simply. “You’re incredible. I feel so lucky to have had the chance to know you. I would never have imagined this.” He shook his head lightly, smiling, and then the smile slid from his face as his eyes darkened.
For the rest of the evening, we didn’t talk much, and Michael, didn’t repeat his thoughts about feeling lucky—instead, he showed me. His tongue made trails across my body, swirling and laving every part of me, and at one point, when his head was between my thighs, my hands fisted in that thick red hair, I had the sense we weren’t alone in the room. And when I screamed my release, I thought I heard the ghost scream along with me—only this time, it didn’t frighten me.
But it was a little creepy.
And it definitely wasn’t a German Shepherd.
27
We Don’t Joke about Coons
Michael
Spending night after night with Addison Tanner in my arms felt like a completely different version of my life. Somewhere though, in the dark corners of my practical and pessimistic brain, I wondered if it wasn’t doomed from the start. She was a Tanner, after all. And the odds were stacked against us. Our disparate ages. Our families. Her career. My failures. Our mutual baggage. My responsibilities to my son. None of that added up to a carefree and successful relationship, but the neutral territory of the house made it feel like maybe it was all possible.
I decided, consciously or subconsciously, not to allow any of the realities of my life interfere with the first real selfish happiness I’d found in years. It was too heady, too addictive for reality to intervene.
Saturday morning we called the exterminator to deal with the ants. He was a tall wiry guy with a permanent scowl named Liam, who showed up almost immediately after I’d called and stood over the anthill shaking his head.
“It’s a big colony,” he said. “I might need to come out a couple times to really get it.”
I shrugged. “That’s okay. I just don’t like it being so close to the front door.”
He gazed up at me then, narrow eyes evaluating me. “Don’t mind the ghosts though, eh?”
I smiled, gazing around the rebuilt front porch. From the outside, I guessed maybe the house did still look a little dilapidated. We hadn’t had it repainted yet. But the place was sound, and the interior work was almost complete. The electrician had updated the wiring, and we had internet and cable, and a state of the art kitchen. It was hard to look at the old house the way I once had. “I guess I don’t.”
He nodded, gazing around me at the big house. “What about coons, you mind them much?”
I shook my head. “Come again?”
“I could take care of them at the same time as these ants.”
“Did you say coons?”
He crossed his arms and nodded again, not saying anything.
“Liam, do you see raccoons?” I was beginning to wonder if our exterminator was hallucinating.
“I bet you do,” he said. “Big old hole up there on the right side under the eaves, right next to that tree.” He pointed at something I couldn’t see from where I was standing, so I moved off the porch to gaze up to where he indicated.
There was a hole.
“How do you know it’s raccoons?” I asked.
