Page 36 of Haunt Me, Maybe

With his arms around me, I could almost pretend I was a normal girl who wasn’t being hunted by a deranged maniac. That this was a lazy evening with my boyfriend after a day of honing my craft. Curse my wishful thinking. One of Wes’s hands splayed at my waist, fingers firm and steady, while the other slid slowly over my stomach. He didn’t rush or grab. He learned. And the slow touch stole the air from my lungs.

I became hyperfocused on how my body answered; on how my hips shifted, and how that small movement caused Wes’s hand to slip further up my chest as he rushed to catch me. A low heat curled tight in my belly, followed by a small sound escaping my mouth before I could stop it.

He went still. The pause was almost unbearable, and my hands clamped over the lower half of my face to keep any other embarrassing sounds from daring to make this worse. I felt him breathe in deep, and when he moved his hand again, it was more deliberate. His fingers crept over the lace of my bralette, circling a nipple. It pebbled under his touch, and my eyes drifted shut at the unexpected pleasure.

Both breasts were awake and heavy, even though he touched only one. Electricity sparked behind my eyes as he pinched the hardened bud between two fingers. Tugging. Pulling. I bit down on my bottom lip to keep those awkward sounds inside, but I couldn’t hide all of them.

While one hand alternated between kneading my breast and tweaking my nipple, his other inched over the curve of my hip. My skirt lifted under his palm, riding higher as his hand continued its descent. Cool air kissed my skin, and I gasped. When his palm curled around my inner thigh, I froze completely.

The contact was intimate in a way I was unfamiliar with, and it made my pulse roar in my ears. His thumb rubbing the sensitive skin outside my panties was enough to make me soak them, and my cheeks burned at how vulnerably exposed I felt. He didn’t move higher. Didn’t take anything.

His grip was firm but careful, a question in the shape of his hand. My heart skipped so hard I was sure he could feel it through my back. And of course, because it couldn’t tell the difference between my heart racing from danger and arousal, my magic woke and went on a rampage.

It flared, its demanding pressure building fast and sharp, like it always did when I was overwhelmed. Light blazed to life in a few of the crystals resting on the desk. An illusion of a pestle and mortar appeared next, and nothing I did would make it go away.

“I can feel it,” I panted, voice shaking. “It wants⁠—”

“I know.” Wes’s palm settled flat on my chest, against my sternum. “Stay with me.”

I really tried. Focusing on the warmth of his skin and the way I felt safe in his arms helped to calm the raging flood of my power, but it surged anyway. Wes breathed slow and steady, his rhythm unmistakable against my back. That thumb moved across my thigh in a small, steady arc, and gradually, the surge eased.

It backed off enough for me to push it down until it was more of a hum than a scream. I sucked in a startled breath—the sudden calm nothing short of impossible—and sagged back against Wes without thinking.

“You feel that?” he praised, and I nodded, unable to find the words. “You did it.”

We had. Holy shit, he was right. He could somehow help me wrangle my magic. The implications for training were endless; I might be able to finally gain control. To practice and grow strong enough to defend myself. If I didn’t run…if I accepted the dangers and the consequences…I could have it. And maybe even Wes, too. Shit, was that too selfish?

“This,” Wes added quietly, and squeezed his hand on my thigh to bring me back to him, “isn’t just about control.” He bit the lobe of my ear and tugged on a nipple at the same time, making my hips jolt. I felt him smile against my skin. “Sensitive,” he murmured.

My eyelids fluttered, and I swore I was one more touch away from my brain short-circuiting. Oh, this was a bad idea. Training was one thing, but taking this any further was a recipe for heartbreak. He was a ghost. Sure, I could see him and touch him, but what happened if it went further than that? I wasn’t sure I could keep my emotions separate…not when his hands on me made the world spin.

I swallowed, still torn on what to do. “Wes…”

His knees shifted beneath me—widening a fraction. The movement opened my legs further, and his thumb skimmed over the top of me, right above my clit. The sensation pulled a soft, helpless sound from my throat, and my magic stirred again.

“Do you feel how good we are at this?” he asked. “How you don’t fracture when you let me hold you?”

Wes pulled his shoulders back, allowing space between us for his hand at my breast to drift up to my chin and turn my head. He waited until I met his eyes, and the heat I saw there ensnared me.

“If you want, I can show you how else we’re good together.”

Every survival instinct I had screamed at me to pull away, to lock everything down, to disappear before this became something Gideon could take from me. But when I tried to speak, nothing came out. Fuck the consequences; I wanted to do this.

“I don’t know how to,” I admitted, barely louder than a breath. “I don’t—I’ve never⁠—”

“It’s okay. You don’t have to know,” he said, softly. “You don’t have to be good at anything. You just have to stay.”

My throat grew tight. “And if I lose control?”

“Then I’ve got you,” he replied, without hesitation. “Just like before. Just like now.”

There was no lie in his gaze, only determination and a soft question. Did I want to continue? After a moment to gather my courage, I moved my knee.

“That’s it,” he crooned. “Good girl.”

He released my chin, his teeth grazing the side of my neck, and a bold shiver danced down my spine. I tilted my head and squirmed when his fingers resumed their assault on my nipple, my back arching when a particularly hard pinch sent lightning zipping directly to my clit.

“I…” I breathed, half-warning, half-plea.