Page 112 of Hot Ghost Summer

Steam gradually rises between us, curling in fragile wisps that mirror the churning emotions inside me. He wants me to live here. With him. But if I hadn’t…? Then would he…?

I open a cupboard door, but there aren’t any cups. I open another—no cups there either. As I systematically hunt through all the cabinets, I realise he’s given me exactly what I needed… a task to focus on. A small smile blooms across my lips, and when I open the next cupboard, I find exactly what I’m looking for.

Hollis pours the boiling water over the shredded leaves in the teapot’s basket, and I watch as they turn a deep amber brown.

“This is my favourite tea,” he adds. “It carries a more robust tannin and is better with the hard water here.” He sets the kettle back on its stand. “And it takes a little over three minutes to steep.”

Three minutes.

He cages me against the counter.

I swallow, and his eyes track the movement.

With slow hands, his thumb traces the line of my pulse where it hammers wildly inside my wrist. “Your heartbeat is too fast for it to be fear.” He steps closer, chest to chest. “Do you know what the secret ingredient to brewing the perfect cup of tea is, Theo?”

I shake my head.

“Patience. Rushing the process leaves the centre cold and flavourless. Drinking it then will taste like the water has been touched only by the shadow of warmth. But time…” He brings his thumb to my lips. “Time draws out the deep, rich colours from the leaf, and in those quiet minutes beneath the surface… that’s where the love grows.”

I inhale. “You’re not talking about the tea anymore, are you?”

“Not the tea.” His hand slides down to my throat.

“Measure my heartbeat again,” I whisper. “It’s not fear.”

Hollis’s electric eyes flash with a neon array.

I place my palm flat on his chest where his fierce heart beats unseen.

“Say you’ll stay…” His unguarded plea is a prelude to the rest of forever.

Everything else but him fades away. “I’ll stay if you promise t’ ruin me, Sir.”

thirty-five

Ghost-Married

Theo

Hollis leans in and his lips brush mine when he says, “You’re going to have to beg me to stop.”

Fisting his shirt, I moan.

The look in his eyes as he shifts one hand around the back of my neck is as if he wants to devour me. He expects me to yield, I can tell.

I squeeze my hand into the small space between us to find him already hard and wanting. “I don’t beg.”

His eyes flicker and his form glitches with static before he stabilises. He angles my head to the side and licks a stripe up the side of my cheek, then lightly taps it with an open palm. “Oh, Baby… you will.”

A shudder rolls through me, and my gaze drops from his eyes to his mouth. My chest heaves against his, trapping my heat between us, and jagged breaths tear from my throat.

Furious desire has Hollis slam his lips to mine in a kiss so desperate that the counter bites into my arse, and instead of defending against his dominance, I pull him to me.

My hands rip his shirt from where it’s neatly tucked in. I claw up his back like an animal who can shred the clothing from his skin, and I growl into his mouth as blood like lava fills my veins.

I grind my hips against his, and Hollis flips my cap off to tug my head backward by the roots of my hair. Breaking our kiss, he bites and sucks down the stretched column of my neck while his other hand raises the hem of my hoodie. Cold fingers smooth over my abs.

“Take it off,” he instructs, voice low and dangerous. He stoops to kiss and lick my exposed torso. “Take it all off.”