Out of This World (9 page)

“What?”

I covered my mouth with my hand, which was suddenly shaking. “My God!”

Kellan looked at me oddly, and then got up, walking toward the case.

“Guns,” I whispered, horrified at the row of guns within the closed cabinet. “It's filled with—”

Kellan opened the door.
“Holy shit.”

Guns.

I don't know how long we both stared. Finally I stood, then walked toward the cabinet as well, reaching out a hand to touch the butt of a huge, wicked-looking rifle.

“Holy shit,” Kel said again.

“What are these for?”

Kellan shook his head grimly. “I don't know.” He shut the cabinet. “But I wish like hell I did.”

I waited for the inevitable realization, which didn't take longer than a beat, because as laid-back and easygoing as Kellan might be, he was not in any way slow or stupid.

His eyes landed on mine, and held.

I lifted a shoulder.

“You saw through that cabinet,” he said.

“I saw through the cabinet.”

“And through my pants.”

“Yeah, but if it helps, I didn't mean to.”
Much
.

He just stared at me.

I tried not to look again, but he stood there, an intensely physical presence with something of an attitude—and boy, I was a sucker for attitude—in his faded Levi's and that borrowed sweatshirt, which only hinted at the broad shoulders I could actually see.

“What else?” he asked hoarsely.

“Well, your sweatshirt—”

“I meant, what else
besides
me can you see through, Rach?” he said in a low, rather frustrated-sounding voice.

“Oh.” Right. “Uh, well…”

“Rach.”

“Everything.” I shrugged my shoulders helplessly. “I can see through everything.”

“Do you see dead people, too?” he asked, trying to joke.

I shook my head.

And he nodded his, relieved. Then, in what was the nicest thing he could have done in that moment, he pulled me in for a hard hug. “This is fucking insane,” he whispered against my damp hair. “I'm not crazy about insane, Rach.”

I held on tightly and closed my eyes. “Me, either. What do you think is wrong with me?”

“Nothing.”

“I can see through things, Kellan.”

He tipped my chin up, his eyes dark, his voice low and quiet and incredibly soothing. “I can't explain that, but it's this place. I know it.” He pulled back, and shivered.

I realized I was shivering, too.

He made a sound of concern and went to work on the buttons down the front of my pink, gauzy shirt.

“Hey,” I said, holding the material closed, “I can do that.”

“Okay.” Backing up, he turned away and eyed the couch, no doubt wondering who could possibly sleep there.

Damn, he had a nice back, all smooth and sleek and tanned. Tanned? “When did you get sun?”

“Uh, every day of my life?” He kicked off his shoes. “I swim all day long in the tanks outside, remember?” He went still, and glanced at me over his shoulder, his eyes shadowed from me. “More seeing through stuff?”

I felt my cheeks heat, not because I'd been peeking, but because until now, I'd been mostly peeking south of his tanned back—waaay south.

“You getting into a hot shower?” he asked.

“Um…”

“Let me rephrase. You
are
getting into a hot shower.”

This assertive Kel was new. “Maybe, things will somehow seem better, or different, when we're warm,” he said, slightly less gruffly, but no less forcefully.

I couldn't tear my eyes off him. “Yeah.”

“Let's go.”

Let's. Yes, let's take a shower.

In fact, the image of just that flitted through my brain and stayed there—thank you so much, my overactive imagination—the two of us together beneath the spray, with Kellan naked and wet and gleaming as he pinned me against the wall to have his merry way with me.

Sexual healing, huh.

Oh boy. In my fantasy, he knew exactly how to sexually heal me. “Kellan?”

“Warm up first.” He looked at me, and I had trouble breathing, mostly due to the fact that my cool, calm, laid-back and easygoing Kellan was not so laid-back and calm right now, no matter what his outside appearance said.

This knowledge had not come to me through my mysterious and newfound talent of seeing through things.

Nope, didn't need to see through his jeans to see he was aroused.

I actually had to lift my hand and fan my hot face. “You know what?”

His voice sounded a little gruff. “What?”

“Suddenly I'm warm. Very warm.”

K
ellan sighed, and scrubbed a hand over his eyes. “I'm sorry, Rach. It's that kiss. It's messing with my head big time.”

There, one of us had said it. Thank God. “The kiss?”

He cut those amazing eyes to me. “You forgot about it?”

Not likely. “No, I've, um, been thinking about it, too.” I'd also been thinking about getting another. You know, just to see if it had been a fluke. “And then there was what Axel and Marilee said.”

His eyes heated. “About the sex thing?”

I had to clear my throat to answer. “I believe they used the word ‘amazing.' The ‘amazing' sex thing. But yeah, that.”

“Thought you might have been snoozing through that part of the conversation.”

“No, I heard.”

“Oh.” He brushed past me and went into the bathroom. I heard the shower come on, and a moment later he was back, propping a shoulder against the doorway as if he owned it. “I lit some candles. The water's ready for you.”

“Kel?”

He looked reluctant to answer. “Yeah?”

“Do you really believe that we're going to find some sort of a wild connection this weekend?”

“Rach, just get in the shower.” He definitely didn't want to have this conversation with me, which perversely made me want to have this
exact
conversation.

“Go,” he said.
Begged.

I was doing pretty well without the shower regarding that getting-warm thing. In fact, just looking at his lean, muscular frame made me feel as if I had an inner fire raging. “Kel—”

“Look, I don't really want to talk about any cosmic connection.”

“How about wild sex? You want to talk about wild sex?”

“No.”

“But I do.” I had no idea how those words made it past my inner editor. Oh wait, that's right, I didn't have an inner editor. Still, I usually had
some
pride—meaning I never made the first move on a man, preferring instead to be chased. I stood there a minute, trying to figure out how things had changed.

“Get in the shower, Rach.”

“But—”

“Please.”

“Fine.”

He looked pained at my word choice as I stalked past him into the bathroom. I shut the door and stripped by candlelight, then stepped into the raised bathtub and pulled the curtain around me, reminding myself that, unlike me, Kellan couldn't see through the door or the curtain.

For now, I was utterly alone.

And because I was, maybe I could allow myself a few tears. Unfortunately, I wasn't one of those women who cried easily or well. I certainly didn't look good while doing it. My eyes always got all puffy, my nose ran unattractively and my cheeks became blotchy. Now was no different as I stood beneath the steady stream of hot water and let the pity party begin.

I sniffed noisily, then went still as I felt a whisper of movement. I stared at the shiny pink vinyl shower curtain surrounding me, then through it to the mirror on the wall reflecting my own astonished face right back at me, my hair plastered to my head, my wide, tear-reddened eyes. And then my eyes went even wider as I figured out what the sound had been.

Kellan opening the door. “Rach?”

I squeaked, then realized that while I could see him, he could not yet see me, since he hadn't gotten hit by lightning. I slapped my hand over my mouth to keep back any telltale sounds that might escape, like the remaining sob.

But he was looking right at me. Or at the curtain. I shrank back until my spine and butt touched the icy tiles, making me jump at the unexpected goosing. “Get out!”

“Rach.”

I pointed at him, even though he couldn't yet see me. It didn't matter. I still felt like I was naked in front of a crowd.
“Out.”

He gave a low shake of his head, and with a frustrated sob, I whirled away so I couldn't see him, hugging myself tightly beneath the blast of hot water.

I felt another shifting of the cool air, and then the curtain was swept aside, and I squealed again, whipping back around. My quick movement sprayed Kellan with water right in the face.

“
Get out!
” I said.

“Are you crying?”

I swiped angrily at my eyes.
Had he even noticed I was naked?
“No, I'm not crying! And you're peeking.”

But he wasn't peeking at all. He was looking directly into my eyes, his own full of things that made more tears leak out of mine.

Damn it.

“You are,” he said, and clamped his hands down over my wrists, tugging me toward him. “You're crying.”

“I'm going to be screaming in a minute,” I promised, trying to pull free to no avail. The hands that held me captive so easily were large and callused, and I liked the feel of them—too much—so I struggled to get loose before I lost all pride and threw myself against him.

“Christ.” The word seemed to slip out of him as he tried to hold onto me without actually touching me. I realized how I must look—wet, soaped up, naked…

And yeah, he'd definitely noticed the naked part.

Through his drenched clothing, I could see his heart quicken, his abs tighten. I could sense the rush of blood to places that weren't thinking about the lightning or my new eyesight, or anything but this—just the two of us. “Go away,” I whispered, thinking,
Don't do it; don't really go
.

Eyes dark—so very dark—he gently squeezed my bare hips. “It's going to be okay, Rach. I promise you.”

At that, I felt a rush of new tears. “That's a promise you can't keep,” I whispered.

“No, I keep all my promises. You know I do.”

It was true. From the promise in first grade to hold my hand at the school's haunted house, to the one just last week to come here with me, and to all the promises in between, he'd never once failed me. “I'm okay,” I said, and he slowly nodded.

“Yeah, you are.”

I became incredibly aware of the steam rising around us, of the water hitting the tiles, of the way his clothes had become wet and plastered to his body.

“Kel?”

He blinked water out of his eyes. “Yeah?”

“I'm naked.”

He finally let his gaze slip then, let it run over my body, from head to toe, and then back up again, his only obvious reaction a tightening of his fingers on my hips.

And suddenly I no longer felt like crying. “
Really
naked.”

“I know,” he whispered, his voice husky and thick.

“And you're not.”

Gaze still on mine, he pulled the sweatshirt over his head. His wet hair stuck straight up, which he ignored as he kicked off a shoe, then the sock. His other shoe wouldn't come off, and he swore, breaking eye contact to bend and fumble with the wet, knotted laces. Finally he sent that shoe flying over his shoulder. It smashed into something on the counter behind him, and something hit the floor with a loud clatter.

He sent me an endearingly self-conscious smile.

I laughed, then gulped, as I let myself soak him up, my gaze trailing over his ribs, his abs and all those tightly defined muscles where his wet jeans sagged low. I wanted to kiss him there. Hell, I wanted to spread him on a damn cracker. I wanted—“You,” I breathed. “I want you.”

His hands stilled on the buttons on his Levi's. “God, I'm an idiot.”

“What? Why?”

He backed up, his face tight in a mask of frustration. “I almost forgot.”

“Forgot what?”

“This isn't right.”

Are you kidding? “Yes, it is.”

“No. It's whatever happened to you out there.”

“I—”

“Listen to me. You've never wanted me like this before.” He cupped my face, his own quiet and unreadable, and I shut my eyes to absorb the feel of his touch. “Just sleep,” he said. “In the morning, it'll feel different.”

“No, I—”

“Sleep,” he repeated, and I felt his lips brush my temple.

I wanted to pull him against me, have him fulfill my shower fantasy. That would help dispel the fear, I was sure of it. But when I opened my eyes, he was gone.

I stood there for a few more minutes.
Slumped
there, actually, against the wall, in sudden exhaustion. Finally I got out and managed to wrap my hair in one towel, my body in another.

Kel was waiting for me, but not like I wanted—needed. “Lie down.” He pointed to the bed as he passed me to take his turn in the shower. “Rest. I'll be quick.”

But he wasn't quick enough, because in spite of myself, I was out like a light before my head even hit the pillow.

 

I woke up some time later in the pitch dark and have to admit to letting out a very childish whimper. I was still wrapped in the towels, but I was totally and completely alone in the bed and so chilled that I could hardly feel my toes or fingers.

There was only one thing worse than that: knowing that the cookies were in the inn waiting for me. Climbing out of the bed, I moved to the doorway of the living room and wondered where my flashlight was. Then I remembered. I didn't need it. I focused, and saw right through the dark. Kellan wasn't on the couch, and my heart stopped.

What if I'd scared him off, and he'd left? What if it wasn't the cookies all alone, but me?

Then I saw the long, lean length of him sprawled out on the throw rug in front of the couch, and I nearly collapsed in relief. He hadn't left me. He'd only moved to the floor, which must have been more comfortable than the Victorian couch.

I wished he'd have come to me. I'd have moved over for him in a heartbeat. I'd even have given him half my pillow, the ultimate sacrifice. Hell, for some of that delicious warmth I knew his body held, he could have had the entire pillow.

Motivated by my icy toes, I moved a little closer. He was flat on his back, one arm flung wide, the other over his eyes, his biceps taut and making my tummy taut, too. The blanket covered him up to his chin, but that was no deterrent for me and my X-ray vision.

I knew it was wrong, but I focused, and peeked. He wasn't wearing a shirt.

He wasn't wearing his jeans either.

Oh my.

All he had on was a pair of dark blue knit boxers, which meant they clung nicely to every little nuance of his body, and trust me, there was nothing “little” to be seen. I took a moment to think about all the things I could do with him in that position, sprawled out like some sort of fantasy treat.

Shame on me.

He wasn't snoring, which was good, but breathing deeply and slowly. His hair had fallen in his face as usual, and he hadn't shaved in a few days now. The thought of that stubbled jaw running over my skin made me tingle.

I realized I was starting to warm up very nicely. This time, I wouldn't give him a chance to think too much. “Kel?”

“Hmm?” he answered automatically, apparently still out cold, because he didn't so much as budge.

“Kel.”

“He's sleeping,” he whispered.

“I know. I'm sorry.”

Kel lowered the arm from over his eyes, and he stared blindly into the dark, clearly unable to see me. “Rach?”

Well, who else? The boogeyman? “Yeah.”

He sat straight up, his expression unreadable. Blind, he reached out with his hands, coming into contact with my thigh, reminding me that while I could see everything, he could not. His brow shot up at the feel of my bare skin, and his fingers spread wide, as if to touch as much of me as he could.

Suddenly the towel didn't seem like much coverage at all.

“You okay?” he asked, his voice lower and thicker, and not from sleep, but from desire. Or so I hoped. I took my gaze on a little tour beneath his blanket and saw that I was right. He was excited.

“Nothing's wrong. I got cold.”

“You need to get sleep,” he said in direct opposition to what his fingers were saying, stroking my skin. I was still standing, so his hand was level with my belly.

The muscles there quivered.

His fingers were stroking up and down my legs now, his hair brushing against the towel at my middle. “Mmm,” escaped me before I could help myself.

“Rach.” His fingers tightened on me. “Sleep. You need sleep.”

“Not tired.”

“What then?”

What indeed? I knew exactly what. Possibly, I'd known from the moment I'd woken up after the lightning.

In the charged silence, he swallowed hard. “Rach.”