A Haunted Romance (8 page)

Mattress shopping was straightforward enough. He didn’t even make any comments about helping her test them out—in fact, he didn’t even look particularly interested in or seem to care about her choice. She supposed he wasn’t the type to sleep over. Maybe he’d lost interest in her altogether. That bothered her more than she cared to admit, which was funny because if he had been particularly interested in her choice of mattress, that would have been just as disconcerting. She gave up trying to make sense of it.

She got two sets of linens to go with it, one a deep wine, the other in hunter green. She’d toss her sleeping bag on top for a blanket for now and hope the blankets from her full-size in the condo would keep her warm enough in the larger bed. She hated to be a penny-pincher, but the fact that each day brought a new set of expenses was unnerving. At some point she’d have to fix whatever was making the house screech and moan at night too. She’d been half convinced that they were human noises, but in broad daylight, those ideas seemed pretty ridiculous. Still, she doubted she’d get used to them enough to sleep well, although apparently Pat and Joann had. The noises were probably what scared Arnold and Jacey away, but if there was a ghost, it would find that she was made of sterner stuff.

At the hardware store, she got a board cut to replace the rotten slats. Trent helped her pick out some good chains for her car and made sure she knew how to use them before she left the store.

“Thank you,” she said.

“It’s better than having to come over and rescue you when you get stuck.” His face held a sour expression. He hadn’t been exactly a chatterbox either. She’d really insulted him by implying he was lying about the key apparently. She wished she could have the words back.

They drove home in silence. The more she turned it over in her mind, the more she thought her conclusion that he’d left the key made sense. In spite of that, she believed him. There had to be another explanation, one she wasn’t thinking of.

“I’m sorry for not believing you,” she said as he turned off the engine, parking in her driveway.

He nodded. “I guess I can’t blame you.”

“There’s no other explanation I can think of.” She shrugged.

“Well, there is one thing.”

“Hmm?”

“Maybe your aunt was right. Maybe the place
is
haunted.”

She let herself consider it. Whoever it was wanted her to open the chest. The chest hadn’t been opened in a long time, and if Pat or Joann had wanted it open, they would have opened it themselves. Minerva? She didn’t know nearly enough to guess, but it was the only other deceased resident she knew of. Was that who was moaning? Was it Minerva's scream she’d heard outside the night before that? She could easily convince herself that it sounded like a woman, although she hadn’t been sure at the time. “There’s got to be some other explanation.”

Trent chuckled. “Well, if you come up with one, let me know. You’ve got me curious.”

“I did hear some strange noises overnight.” She told him about the moaning and the whistling sounds. Trent listened seriously.

When she was done, he shrugged. “Really strange, Chelsea. Really, really strange. I bet Mrs. Gray has some information on the house, if you’re interested in the haunting idea. She’s the Selby Historical Society. All of it, now that Miss McCraw is no longer here.”

“Where’d she go?” It was the sort of thing that ended up being important, so Cat always asked questions like that.

“She died.”

“Oh.” Following Cat’s instincts wouldn’t help here—if she asked who killed her Trent was likely to think she was seriously bent.

“Let’s get the mattress. Looks like it could start raining again.”

Chelsea looked up. The sky did indeed look threatening with gray in the south covering half the blue. The clouds were definitely rolling toward them. She opened the door, propped it with a stray brick, and together they got the mattress inside. She needed to rest for a moment, and then they continued up the stairs. Eventually it was in place on the bed.

Trent glanced over at the chest. “You’ll let me see it when you start going through it for real?”

Chelsea felt her cheeks heat up. But it was a reasonable request, after helping her lug the chest down, and besides, there was still the second chest in the attic. And there would be plenty to do. “Yes, once I talk to the archivist, you can help me. Maybe I could get Dalton’s help too, if the two of you can stand to be in the same room together?”

“I’m an adult.” Trent frowned.

“A consenting one at that.”

One corner of his mouth turned up. “Sometimes. Are you changing the subject?”

“Yes.”

“I think you need some sheets on the bed first. And I’m curious about the moaning. Did it come from the attic?”

“Why?”

Trent shrugged. “Because that’s where we found the chest. And isn’t that where ghosts usually live? In attics? Or their rooms, I suppose. Or the place where they hanged themselves.”

Chelsea shivered. “I hope nobody hanged themselves. But the moaning sounded like it was coming from the other bedroom, the one I’ve set my office up in.” She walked over there, not sure she was entirely happy he’d changed the subject away from the mattress.

“Did it seem to come from any particular part of the room?”

“Not that I could tell. Whenever I got here and turned on the light, the moaning stopped.”

Trent looked speculatively up at the light fixture. “I suppose if it happens again, you can try to listen without the light.”

“If you’d heard the sound, you’d know why I was eager to have the light on. It was pretty ghastly.” She shuddered, but his attention was elsewhere, on her bookshelf.

He pulled a copy of
Cat and Curiosity
and thumbed through it absently. “All the things you didn’t bring with you, and you brought a complete set of Cat Connors hardbacks. These things don’t even look read.” He turned and looked at her.

She still didn’t want him seeing her picture in the books, no matter how dolled up she looked with makeup on. She moved up close to him and put her hand on the book while pressing her chest up against his.

He let her take the book from him, then slipped his hand around her waist. She put the book back on the shelf.

He kissed her. She never thought she was the type to seduce a man to distraction, but apparently it was working. She kissed him back, their lips melting together as heat poured into her body until she tingled all over.

“For the record, Chelsea, I think you look better without your makeup.”

“Huh?”

“I have the book at home. Already looked at the flyleaf. Relax. Your secret is safe with me.”

He’d been just teasing her by pulling the book off the shelves. “You bas—” But she didn’t get anything else out. When his lips covered hers again, she didn’t really care.

She pushed his sweater and the shirt underneath up over his head. His fingers were busy with the buttons on her blouse. With a low growl, he grabbed the shirt and sent a button skittering across the floor as he ripped it off her.

“Yes,” she whispered.

The creaking of the door caught her attention. He didn’t notice until it slammed shut behind him. But she saw it shut.

He let her go and turned toward the door, one hand still on her, making sure she was behind him. He stood between her and whatever it was, and she was very aware of the muscles of his shoulders and back, tense and ready for action. “Did you see anyone?”

“No,” she said. “I could see it perfectly. There was no one there.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’m sure.”

He chuckled. “Apparently your ghost thinks we should have some privacy for what we were doing.”

Chelsea wondered. What little she’d seen of the chest, she thought the ghost might prefer to watch. But she had only guesses as to who the ghost might be really. If it was Minerva—maybe her pain at only being able to read about sex made watching the two of them too much to take. She frowned. Then again, maybe Minerva got married the year after she received the letter and had seven children or she wasn’t a virgin at all and just claimed to be to entice her pen pal. For that matter, Minerva might not even be a woman, just someone using a woman’s name. Chelsea really knew nothing at all.

Trent moved away, opening the door and looking around. He came back a minute later. “No one here.”

Chelsea sighed. “Yeah. Just us.”

Trent smiled. “You look very sexy with your shirt off.”

He narrowed the gap between them, wrapping one arm around her waist as the other went to her bra strap. She wasn’t entirely in the mood to continue, not after the door slammed shut, but he did feel nice and warm, his bare skin touching hers. His voice dropped to a low whisper, her lips right next to her ears. “Let’s see if the ghost closes the door again.”

She smiled. It wasn’t a bad plan, she thought, as her bra slipped off her shoulders and landed on the floor. It would have seemed that was enough for a test, but his hands slipped inside the waistband of her long skirt and that fell as well. It was important to test one’s deductions thoroughly. Cat Connors liked to restage the crime, often elaborately but always with an eye for detail. She undid the buttons on Trent’s jeans, all for the sake of science, of course, and then slipped her hand around his firm, hot cock and gave it a few pulls.

“I won’t last if you do that,” Trent told her. “I’ve been aching for you since yesterday afternoon, hoping I could get you in my arms again.” He was slipping off her panties too, his hands warm on her thighs, letting the underwear fall once he got them over her hips.

It was just a line, she thought, probably one he uses on all his conquests. But it was a good line, and she’d pretend to herself that she believed it. She didn’t let his cock go, though, just slid her hand languorously over its length, feeling it grow even harder and bigger at her touch. “You’ll just have to do it twice, if you come too soon.” The thought of him spurting right then and there made her feel even sexier, more desirable. Her pussy moistened at the thought that he was so easily overcome by lust for her.

He grabbed her hand and pulled it away. He lifted her onto the desk and settled her ass on it. She felt the cold plastic of the laptop behind her and shoved it to the side, sending an envelope that had been there fluttering to the floor. He pushed her thighs apart and knelt between her legs.

His hot breath rushed across her sensitive flesh, and then his tongue licked along her labia. His fingers held her open as he dipped his tongue within her, then did it again for a second taste. He actually looked like he was enjoying what he was doing for its own sake, not just warming her up so he could stick his cock inside her. She was plenty warm and wet enough for that anyway. Just being near him was enough to make her wet.

He took his time, his tongue traveling the length of her pussy, his hands on her thighs, holding her open. One of them would slide up to her mound when his tongue reached her clit, pulling lightly to help move the protective hood from getting in the way. Electricity flew through her each time his tongue touched her most sensitive nerves, making her entire body tingle.

Her breasts ached, the sensation concentrating itself in her stiff nipples. She took one of his hands and pulled it up to where she needed it. His fingers closed around a nipple, tugging gently. She moaned, the combination of tongue and hands nearly pushing her over the edge.

He raised his head. She expected him to stand up and thrust inside her at that, especially as a look of triumphant recognition lit his face. He had to know how ready she was for him. Instead he bent his head anew, his tongue flicking over her clit faster, his other hand sliding up her belly until it too could cup a breast. She put one hand on the desk to steady herself and the other on the back of his head. She wasn’t going to let him stop now, not when she was so very close.

He rolled both of her nipples between his fingers at once, and she screamed, waves of pleasure washing over her as she writhed on the wooden desk, her shoulder bumping against the plaster wall, legs kicking at air.

He didn’t let up while her orgasm possessed her, waiting until her nerves felt almost too sensitive for his touch. Then he stood up. He rolled a condom over his proud, jutting cock. He positioned it at her opening and paused for a moment to put his arm around her, protecting her from the wall. Then he pushed inside, moving slowly up her slick channel until he filled her with his whole length.

He moved carefully, slowly, sliding in and out of her.
You don’t have to be so gentle. Take me.

As if he could read her mind, the next thrust pushed her back to the wall and pinned her there. He pulled her hips forward so that the place where her flesh met his was still at the edge of the desk. He moved in her fast, filling her to the fullest each time he thrust forward. She shuddered as a wave of pleasure crested in her, deep within her core. Her pussy clenched involuntarily around him, pushing him over the edge. She felt him shake as his cock pulsed inside her, spilling his seed into its rubber sheath. She wanted to feel that heat inside her, to feel his cum jetting into her womb, even though she knew it would be foolish to make love without protection to a man she’d known for only a few days.

She held him close, pressing her chest against his, feeling the roughness of the wiry hair on his chest against her tender nipples. She kissed his neck, his shoulders, and just behind his ears as he held himself in her, gasping for breath.

He pulled out of her with a reluctant sigh and rolled the condom off properly. If he hadn’t had that to take care of, he could have held her as he softened inside her, she thought. That would have been wonderful.

“Would you like me to stay the night?” he asked. “I’m a little concerned about the moaning, the door, some of the things going on around here.”

Chelsea hoped that wasn’t his only reason. She could think of nothing she’d like better, but it probably wasn’t safe for her to be around him until her lust for him had settled down a little. Besides, she had plans. “I was planning to go back to Falls Church tonight, so I’ll be okay, thanks.”