Kiss And Dwell (10 page)

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Authors: Kelley St. John

Tags: #Sexth Sense

BOOK: Kiss And Dwell
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If her eyes could fire bullets, he

d be dead now. Too bad for her, he was
already dead.

That

s what bothers you, isn

t it? You

re not in complete
control, and it pisses you off that on top of that, you actually enjoy what the
powers that be make you do.


I

m in control,

she said, forcing her words through gritted teeth.

It

s my
decision whether I help you cross, and I

ve decided you will, whether you like
it or not.


That so?


That

s so.

She took a deep breath and held it, then let it out slowly
.


Listen, I don

t want to fight with you. I

m simply going to help you cross. I
realize you have no qualms with your current existence, but whether you like
staying in the middle or not, how would I live with myself if I was the reason
that you never even had the option to cross? Look at that memo Grandma Adeline
sent. You have nine days—eight now. That

s one week from tomorrow. That

s it.

When he made no effort to look at the papers, she huffed an exasperated breath
and snatched them up herself. Monique recited the last line from the final page
.


As with all assignments, should the claimant refuse or be unable to complete
the assigned task within the rectification period, that individual

s ability to
gain access beyond the realm will be irrevocably denied.

She dropped the pages
on the settee.

Irrevocably denied. I

m not going to live with that on my
conscience, whether you like your current in-between status or not,

she
proclaimed.

On or before the deadline, you

re crossing. Preferably before.


And who

s making me?

Ryan asked, amused by this golden-haired, green-eyed and
extremely spicy Cajun.


I am,

she said,

but I

ve had a hell of a day and I

m exhausted, and I

m going
to bed to sleep on it.


Want some company?

he asked.

I

m sure I could think of something to help you
relax. You seem stressed. Are you planning to dream, Monique?

Those beautiful eyes shot daggers through him again.

Don

t even think about
it,

she warned.


Oh, I

ll think about it,

he said,

And you will, too. If you change your mind,
just say my name. I

ll come. And so will you. I guar-an-tee.

He tried to sound
as Cajun as he could manage.

Her mouth quirked, fighting a grin.

Don

t try it. You

ll never pull off
sounding local,

she said.

And don

t step one foot in my room. I don

t need
your help.


That

s right. There are plenty of flashlights around,

he mused aloud, then
relished her cheeks burning brighter.

And for the record, I

m from L.A.

Her jaw dropped.

I didn

t want to know that, and don

t tell me anything else.

She took two steps toward the door then turned, frowning.

You don

t sound like
you

re from Los Angeles.


Lower Alabama.

He grinned.


God help me.

She exited the room, giving Ryan a tantalizing view of her
swaying hips along the way.

He laughed. If she planned on forcing him toward that light, or teaching him how
to love, for that matter, she

d need all the help she could get. But he

d
learned quite a bit tonight from his first interaction with Monique
Vicknair
.

She was sexy, she was feisty, and she was more strong-willed than the spotted
silver stallion he

d had in college. Six men had tried to break that horse, an
Appaloosa with an attitude, and none had succeeded, until Ryan. He

d set the
goal and achieved it, the story of his life, until fourteen months ago.

He swallowed past that particular memory and listened to the pipes within the
plantation

s walls creak and sputter as someone upstairs started a shower
.

Monique. She was probably peeling off that damp dress. Did she feel the cool
fabric caress her skin and imagine Ryan

s hands, touching every sweet curve,
teasing every indention and swell? Or did she fling the cloth across the room
while recalling his promise that he wouldn

t give in to her attempts to make him
cross?

He closed his eyes and sensed her aggravation, knew that the thin red dress was
probably in mid-fling.

Strong-willed. She was a strong-willed woman with her will currently set on
breaking Ryan
Chappelle
the way he

d broken that stallion. Slowly. Gradually
.

Thoroughly.

He grinned. What do you know, he

d finally found a woman who equally relished
the one thing Ryan enjoyed more than anything else…

A challenge.

Chapter
4

Monique punched
her pillow with fervor, slammed her head against its soft middle
and glared at the rain dripping down her bedroom window. She

d taken the coldest
shower she could stand in an effort to get her mind off any form of heat, and
off the prominent form of Ryan
Chappelle
.

It hadn

t worked.

Then she

d put on the blue-mesh baby-doll
nightie
she

d bought at Victoria

s
Secret and quickly replaced the dead batteries in her favorite vibrator with the
two she

d swiped from Nanette

s flashlight. Usually, a new piece of sexy
lingerie made her feel that much sexier and caused her orgasm to be that much
harder. And after the night she

d had with Ryan, she needed hard. In fact, she
needed more than a vibrator, but she

d take what she could get.

Ready for some simulated action, she

d held her breath, hit the switch…and the
sucker didn

t so much as quiver. Ditto for the other three male substitutes she
yanked out of the drawer.


Granny, if you have anything to do with this, I

ll never forgive you,

she
spouted, punching the pillow again in an effort to fluff it up enough to smother
her face. Maybe she

d accidentally suffocate and therefore be put out of her
misery—and end the agonizing ache to break the rules, as well as the impossible
quest to teach Ryan
Chappelle
to love.

To love? How could she ever discuss love with him, when all she could think
about each and every time she looked at him was jumping his bones? And even if
he were alive and kicking, she

d be damned if she let that desire take over. The
guy was too dang cocky and needed to be brought down a notch or ten. The thing
was, his cockiness was evidently well-deserved. She still could hear his words
so clearly, delivered with that delicious Southern drawl.

Does it bother you that I

ve helped quite a few women achieve earth-shattering
orgasms over the past fourteen months?
No, the fact that he

d helped other women didn

t bother her. The fact that he
hadn

t helped her was another story. Why hadn

t he? She could only imagine the
words he whispered in the ears of those lucky females. All that intoxicating
Southern charm bestowing comments that could probably make a woman

s toes curl
without so much as a touch of his finger.

But he touched, too; he said so.

She jerked her head to the other side to view the clock, declaring that 3:00
a.m. had now come and gone. Super. At least it was Saturday, and she didn

t have
to be at the salon until eleven. However, at this rate, she

d still be watching
the water drip down the glass when it was time to get up. She envisioned Ryan

s
big, bold body, standing in the middle of the rain, with every droplet finding
its way down extremely male planes and valleys…and a rod of steel.

Her core quaked. Who was she kidding? She wanted him, wanted what he

d given
those other women, wanted to hear that sexy voice again.


Lower Alabama,

she whispered, then smiled into the darkness.

He

s gorgeous,
has a killer body and loves sex. Did he have to have a sense of humor, too?

If
he were only breathing, he

d so go in
Jenee

s
he

s-a-keeper category. Monique
had never put anyone in that classification, but if she were going to, and if
Ryan
Chappelle
dwelled in the land of the living full-time, he

d be there.

A big clap of thunder made her shudder, then a flash of lightning as bright as
day split the sky and illuminated the expanse of her room.

Monique swallowed thickly. The rain and wind claimed dominion outside, but an
entirely different kind of storm dominated her senses. A storm of lust and
desire, an ache that covered her so completely she trembled with need. She
needed him, wanted him to do the things to her that he

d done with those other
women. And, Monique realized, she wanted him to do more, because she didn

t want
to be like the others. She wanted to stand out. She just wasn

t sure how. One
thing was certain though—she wanted Ryan
Chappelle
, right here, right now. And
she knew exactly how to get what she wanted.

If you change your mind, just say my name. I

ll come. And so will you
.

Okay, so she wasn

t going to bring him down a notch or ten, yet. But could she
help it? She wanted to come, and right now, she didn

t want to come with anyone
but Ryan
Chappelle
.

She placed her hand between the mesh triangles covering her breasts, and the mad
beating of her heart pulsed against her fingertips. Could she really do this?
With a ghost? And could she do it without breaking any rules? She swallowed,
licked her lips and decided to find out.


Ryan.

Monique waited a heartbeat, then two. She listened for his voice, focused on the
shadows in her room in an effort to see his body materialize, but she heard
nothing, saw nothing.


Ryan?

she repeated.

Had he lied? No, ghosts couldn

t lie. One rule that worked to her favor. But she
also knew that ghosts had the ability to come and go from one location to the
next at will.

What was taking him so long?


Oh, no,

she whispered. It had been over three hours since he

d left, and he

d
definitely been sexually charged at the time. No doubt a guy who could fulfill
women

s dreams would waste no time finding a woman totally willing to take
advantage of his talents.

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