The Possession (19 page)

Lightning flashed. Rowdy cowered, yanking Zach’s arm. He held on fast, his hand also tightening on mine. I braced for us both and tried to reach the dog to calm him. Zach pressed his face to my ear.

“—make a run for the back door. No more wasting time.”

I nodded, so he’d know I understood. I watched him closely as he gauged the distance and the dog’s attitude and the elements. As soon as a lull struck, the wind dying briefly, he squeezed my hand and we dashed headlong to the back door.

We gained it, the door swinging open at our touch, and we slammed it closed against the storm. I slid the lock into place.

Rowdy shook off with vigor, adding a spray of mud flecks to our already filthy clothes, and his tail started to wag. Zach and I sagged against the wall.

“We made it,” I cried. I ran my hand over my hair, pushing the water from it.

Zach wiped his hand across his face. “Yeah. Barely.”

I rolled from the wall and planted myself before him. “You’re my hero. You saved the dog and saved the day.”

Before I could follow through on my plan and kiss him prior to the house coming down around us, the phone rang.

I grabbed the dog’s bath towel from its hook in the mudroom and dried my hands. Cracking the mudroom door open enough to get my arm through, I answered the phone. Aunt came across the wire, static and disjointed, but I gathered she was stuck somewhere. Then she asked for Zach. I could tell by his manner that he was talking to his dad.

They were stuck together somewhere. The line went dead.

We were stuck together here.

“Might as well get dry,” I offered.

We wiped Rowdy down as best we could. When we opened the door into the kitchen, Rowdy made a beeline to his bed mat and curled up tightly.

Zach followed me to the upstairs bathroom. I pulled a big fluffy towel from the closet and threw it on the bench hamper. If I kept busy, I could ignore the erratic beat of my heart.

I turned back to Zach. Without thought, I reached up and tugged the hair tie from his ponytail. My fingers burrowed along his scalp like I would my own post-tied-back hair and he closed his eyes.

“Take a quick shower. The storm doesn’t sound overhead anymore. I’ll see what I can find for you to wear and we can throw our clothes into the wash.”

Zach’s eyes snapped open. “A house of two women and you’ll find something for me to wear?”

I ignored his laugh and the feeling that, like me, he wasn’t really thinking about clean clothes.

Trying to shake my sudden attack of nerves, I crossed to the closet and retrieved a small laundry basket and placed it by the bench. I headed out the door. “Aunt might still have something from Uncle Jack. I’ll check.”

“And if she doesn’t?”

“I might have some pink short-shorts or something.”

His eyebrows started an upward arch, his expression a clear indication that I was being pictured in those shorts.

I scowled at him and shut the door with a firm click. His laugh echoed through and I leaned against the door to organize my thoughts. The shower started, propelling me on my way.

At the doorway of Aunt’s room, I paused. I didn’t really feel right going in and rummaging, but Zach needed something to wear and I wasn’t about to find it in my wardrobe.

I came up empty. Looked like he’d actually be stuck with something of mine after all.

My largest pair of dorm pants would have to do. Lucky for Zach they were blue-checkered, not floral, and I could give him one of his own sleeveless tees to wear with it. I grabbed a red-checkered pair for me with its matching red spaghetti strap crop top and headed back down the hall.

The shower was silent. I took a deep breath then knocked on the door as it opened. Zach greeted me in nothing but a towel and a devilish grin.

Heat blasted my face, but what had I expected? He’d just finished a shower and waited for clothes.

“Bad news.” I tried to pretend my face was its normal color, that all of this was normal. “But it’s the best I can offer. You have to wear something of mine, but they shouldn’t be too bad. You’re—”

My gaze had started to descend, to scan him in size judgment, when I realized what I was about to do. I busied myself by getting my own towels out. “I left them on my bed for you.”

Zach moved in closer. He pulled the tie from the end of my braid and unraveled my hair with his fingers. It fell in wet crinkles around my shoulders. I bit the corner of my lip.

“I’ll go change, Daph. Don’t be long. The storm might shift again.”

He backed away and closed the door. I unfroze and twisted the water faucet all the way to hot, to jump start it. I threw a towel over the shower rod and peeled my clothes off with speed. Bringing the water temperature down to warm, I stepped under the spray and breathed deeply.

Damn! My underwear. I removed them as quickly as I could, rung them out, and tossed them across to the clothes basket. My mind remained on Zach and his towel.

As I scrubbed and conditioned, shaved and smoothed, every soapy move brought thoughts of what could be.

Would tonight change everything?

In the few short weeks we had been together, he already knew me better than people I had known my whole life. We understood each other. We had the same values. I knew I could trust him with my life.

I believed I could trust him with my heart.

He had never taken advantage of me and Lord knew he’d had enough opportunity, what with the spirits running amok and all. I couldn’t bear to call them ghosts. They seemed so alive, their emotions so large and overwhelming.

Like the way I felt about Zach. I’d been kissed by a couple of guys and liked it well enough, but Zach . . . I wanted to kiss him back and then some. I had to. I couldn’t stop myself.

Still, it was more than just hormone overdrive. I felt connected to him in so many different ways. Like all my life I had waited for this point in time and Zach.

I rinsed off and dried off and got dressed. Clothes basket in tow, I headed for the stairs, calling out, “Zach? I’ll be right back. I’m going to throw the clothes in the wash.”

When I came back upstairs, he was still in my room. He stood at the windows, looking out the way I do. I remained just inside the doorway, quiet, and studied him from head to foot. My dorm pants were snug on him, but the baggy tee shirt camouflaged his form.

“What are you looking at?” I asked, before I stood here all night trying to see through his shirt. He partly turned toward me at my words.

“You.”

My stomach dropped to my feet as butterflies surged up into my chest. My gaze moved past him and there I was, reflected perfectly in the glass.

“What were you thinking?” he asked as he faced me completely.

At first nothing came out of my open mouth, then I heard myself say, “Too bad that you’re wearing your shirt.”

Zach stared at me for what felt like a zillion minutes, then he reached back over his shoulders and began to tug up his shirt. He kept his gaze on my face, but mine was drawn to the soft cotton making its way up his chest. Or more specifically, the body its withdrawal revealed.

The close-fitting dorm pants, low on his hips, weren’t hiding much, either.

He was more beautiful to me than any statue ever carved at any museum. I wanted to touch him.

With a slow smile, Zach started across the room.

“Your turn.”

Zach had stopped within reach of me but far enough back for a good view, the toss of his shirt onto the foot of the bed freeing both hands.

“M-my turn?”

He nodded, face solemn but eyes sparking with mischief. I reached for the hem of my top then hesitated. I bit my bottom lip.

“Daphne, you don’t really . . .” But I wasn’t about to chicken out. The shirt came up and over my head.

Now my friends at home would have laughed to discover my secret love of lacy underthings. A love that seemed to have grown since arriving at Aunt’s this summer. They’d be ecstatic, but first they’d laugh.

I, for one, remained grateful that I’d decided to put on a bra. It wouldn’t be any different than standing here in a bathing suit top, I’d figured. Right?

Wrong. Underwear sent a whole different vibe into the room. A bra was not a bathing suit. Especially one with clear straps and fine lace cups.

Zach stepped nearer and his hands closed on my arms. The top slid from my grasp to the floor. Another step and his lips pressed to my ear, his chest a deep cinnamon wall of heat pulling me in.

His mouth made its way along my throat and I swayed as his hands moved to my waist then hips, brushing lace as they went. My fingers slid beneath my strap and pushed it off my shoulder, clearing the way for his lips.

I pressed my hands to his chest and rubbed my palms up over his shoulders and down his arms, the muscle firm beneath my fingers. His hand came up and covered me as his mouth found mine, capturing my gasp with a heated kiss.

We had managed to turn. Zach lifted me as the bed touched the back of my legs and I clung to him as he followed me up onto it.

“Don’t worry,” he whispered and his hand caressed my cloth-covered thigh. When he stretched out over me, two important facts hit me simultaneously:

I’d lost my bra somewhere along the way, evidenced by the shock of skin-to-skin contact from shoulder to hip, and though still concealed by my blue-checkered dorm pants, Zach’s equipment was very real and he quite capable of using it.

My legs started to tremble, the enormity of what we were headed toward looming suddenly in my consciousness.

“Zach.”

Okay it sounded more like a moan, half whispery and taut, because he’d shifted over me and my hips seemed to follow him. Couldn’t blame him for not realizing it was urgent. I gripped his hips.

He cupped my bottom and pressed me against him, and each word seemed to strain his breath. “Not yet, Daphne. You first.”

Me first?

He blazed a trail across my stomach as he tugged at the drawstring of my pants.

“No. Zach!” I cried out. My fingers wound into his hair and I tugged as panic clawed its way up my throat, reviving itself from the library incident to taunt
“He’s even bigger and stronger than Gary. You can’t stop him.”

“Ow. Daphne—” When Zach’s eyes met mine, his grin faded. “What’s the matter?” He glanced down the length of us. “Am I too heavy? Am I hurting you?”

I shook my head, lips pressed together as the panic receded. My eyes felt damp and he repeated, “What’s wrong?”

“It . . . I can’t do it. I can’t do this, Zach. I’m not ready.”

His eyes closed and his head drooped between his shoulders. A couple of minutes and several deep breaths later, he slowly rose to a seated position. I covered myself with his t-shirt and scanned about for my bra. Zach retrieved it from the floor for me, hooking it as I slid the straps back up over my shoulders.

I threw my goosebumped arms around me and hunched beside him. Zach pulled the lightweight throw from the foot of the bed and wrapped it around my shoulders. “You okay?”

My eyes tried to mist again. But I blinked it back and nodded. “I’m okay. You okay?”

A faint smile warmed his lips and he handed me my top and helped me on with it. He put his own t-shirt back on.

“Zach, are you mad?”

“Disappointed. Not mad.”

I nodded. “Me, too.”

He looked surprised by that, then satisfied.

I rested my cheek against his shoulder. He slipped his arm around me. “My dad always says you have to be in it together, Daphne, for each other. If you aren’t in it together, then you shouldn’t be in it at all.”

“I like your dad.”

He smiled and kissed my temple.

“Zach?”

“Yeah.”

“Do you think we could, like, just hold each other?”

There was silence for half a heartbeat then, “Sure.”

My pillows were piled against the headboard in their usual fashion. I shifted over to them and tugged him with me. He stretched out beside me, draping the throw over us both. We settled into the pillows and he held me against his side. I rested my hand over his heart. It beat steady and sure.

“I would never disrespect you, Daphne.”

“I know.”

“Don’t ever be afraid to tell me what matters.”

I shook my head. “I won’t. You either, Zach. It works both ways.”

He nodded and reached over to turn the three-way lamp to low. We settled down again. The sound of the wind around the house and the rain against the windows lulled. Nails clicked on wood, muting when they crossed to the rug, and Rowdy sprawled alongside the bed. With a yawn, he went back to sleep.

Gusts of rain blew against the windows. Lightning flashes weakened. My leg found its way over Zach’s.

“Daphne?”

“Yeah.”

Silence. Then, “I love you.”

My heart stopped. I swear it. Before it started again, he added, gaze on the ceiling, “It matters. That’s why I told you.”

The jack-hammering beat of my heart receded and I found my voice. “I love you, too, Zach. Don’t you ever forget that.”

He pulled me closer, held me tighter, and when I looked up into his face, he placed his lips to mine. I felt his words in that kiss and wrapped him tightly in my arms as we drifted off.

Craaack
.

Zach sprang up, pushing me back to stay down. Rowdy sat up. He grumble-growled and sniffed the air but otherwise didn’t move.

When all stayed calm, Zach turned the bedside lamp up to high.

My missing keys sat in the middle of the dressing table.

Zach rose and I scrambled up beside him. We scanned the room then moved in opposite directions, me checking the closet and Zach the hallway door.

Rowdy dashed from the room.

We rendezvoused at the dressing table, our eyes pinned to the keys.

“The book.”

Zach nodded. “I’ll get it from the car. Where’s the other plan?”

“In my nightstand. Top drawer.”

He was closer, so I started to let him get it but then called out, “Wait.”

Too late. Zach pulled open the night stand drawer as I reached his side. I covered my eyes with my hand.

“You might want to hide this before Eddie gets home.”