Gatekeeper (17 page)

“Jillian, be still. Hear me out. I cannot condone my actions but at least hear what I have to say.”

Some plea evident in his voice caused her to stop fighting. She forced herself to look into his gray eyes.

“Hattie was with child. We decided to get married sooner. That was what the letter you read was about. At the time, I fully intended to marry her. But in that month, she miscarried. She blamed me. She told me it was because she dreamed I would be killed.” He loosened the grip on her wrists. “She was like you, Jillian. She knew things before they happened. And after my brother died…after I saw what it did to his wife and children, I couldn’t bear to leave Hattie a widow.”

The pain in his eyes was unmistakable. Jillian’s heart softened.

“She married Bruce Bowers within the month, no doubt to spite me.”

“And he hated you because Hattie would always love you.” Her voice sounded soft, uncertain. But Jillian knew the veracity in her words. Any woman who fell under Benton Smith’s spell would forever love him. She loved him. She had to remind herself to breathe. “Am I right?”

Benton shrugged. “It doesn’t matter. What mattered was that she would be taken care of after the war.”

Jillian searched his gaze. “But you loved her didn’t you?” The thought made her heart turn over hard.

“Yes. I loved her enough to let her go.”

Jillian wanted to close her eyes but she couldn’t. She could only gaze into his thickly lashed gray eyes, the dark waves of hair falling forward to tickle her face, the sinfully sensuous curve of his lips accentuated dramatically by his feather-thin moustache and spade beard. He was so beautiful. So sincere.

“Do…do you still love her?” She couldn’t believe she was asked such a juvenile question. Again.

He looked at her. His gaze was warm and intense. “Not in the same way. Not now.”

Her heart soared—because now she had no doubt she was in love with him. Not after this. But at the same time, her heart ached so badly at the idea of him leaving her she thought it would burst from her chest.

With maddening slowness, he slanted his head down to hers and brushed his lips across hers. Jillian grew stiff. She wanted nothing more than to open to him, to taste his kiss, to feel his body moving in rhythm with her own. But she couldn’t. She couldn’t risk his safety—and she certainly could not risk heartbreak.

She bit her lip and twisted her head away. “No, Benton.”

He stopped. “Did I hurt you earlier?”

“No,” she squeaked. She did not dare look into his eyes.

He relinquished one of her wrists and caressed her cheek, letting his fingers trail down the gentle curve of her neck. She trembled. “Then why won’t you let me kiss you?” His drawl was silky. Dangerous.

All she could think about was kissing him, about his mouth on hers, hard and hot, his tongue tasting, searching. She flushed. “Because…I’m afraid for you. Because I don’t want anything to happen to you. I’m sorry for what I did earlier. Can you ever forgive me?”

A devastating smile pulled at his lips, creating a deep dimple at the corner of his mouth. “Of course, my dear. But you know it only weakens my energy if I manifest to you—if I allow
you
to touch
me
.”

Warmth rushed through her body. She was thrilled. Her heart beat wildly. Was he telling her he could make love to her without manifesting? She wanted to protest but her body was already betraying her, traitorously yearning for him, rocking upward against the unmistakable hardness that pressed against her hungry pussy. She battled with razor-sharp desire. Even if he could make love to her without endangering himself, she wasn’t sure she wanted to allow it to happen again. He wasn’t the only one in danger.

But when his mouth found the curve of her neck where he rained expert kisses across the breadth of her collarbone, Jillian heard herself moaning. She reached for him but her hands moved through him.

“No, no, sweet,” he whispered against her skin. “This time it’s my turn.”

He raised his head, looked into her eyes and then vanished.

Jillian gasped. She would have thought he was gone except for the fact she could still feel every long, hard inch of him on top of her. “Benton, what are you doing?”

She had a feeling he wasn’t giving her a choice this time. Panic surged.

The buttons of her blouse opened one by one, the snowy silk falling away to expose a lacy, champagne-colored bra. Her nipples tightened and although she couldn’t see him, she knew Benton was touching her, cupping her breasts, teasing one pointed nipple with the hard tip of his phantom tongue. Closing her eyes, she writhed on the sheets. Hands moved under her body, unfastening the bra, pushing it away. Hot kisses moved down her belly to where insistent fingers unbuttoned and unzipped her trousers. With her eyes closed, it was as if he were there. She raised her hips as he pushed her slacks, along with her panties, down and off.

The adamant kisses found the sensitive inside of one of her thighs, moving higher and higher until Jillian gasped and opened wantonly for him as she felt a finger pushing inside the slick, wet folds of her labia and up into her greedy cunt. Raising her hips, she heard herself moan. Heat spiraled through her body. She had never known anything so erotic.

Her eyelashes fluttered open and all she could see in the milky darkness was a glittering mist floating over her skin. Never had she felt as if she were the center of attention in bed. No one had ever set out to please only her. Her whole body tensed when she felt the tip of a warm tongue flicker over her distended clitoris, joining the finger in a relentless, exquisite assault. Strong arms encircled her hips, lifting her, pulling her toward a hot, hungry mouth.

Jillian’s fists clenched the covers. She rocked against Benton’s mouth as he explored, licked, sucked, teased. And then it was building inside her, cresting. She was coming. Her breath caught in her chest and she cried out as spasm after earth-shattering spasm racked her body.

But there was hardly time to recover before she felt his energy move over her like a whisper-soft breeze. Some unexplainable urgency consumed her and she found herself begging, pleading for more. Her body tingled. It was electric. She grew still and lay there waiting, anticipating, relishing every moment of this strange new experience.

Her body became weightless. Amazed, she gasped as it floated inches off the surface of the bed but she hardly had time to protest before the palpable energy caressed her. Hands roamed over and around her as if he had dozens of them instead of only two. The insistence of his mouth came down on hers and she opened for him, tasting the tangy sweetness of her own juices, feeling hard, warm pressure that made her lips tingle. The energy rippled over her whole body until she couldn’t discern exactly what he was doing anymore. She knew she was lost and she no longer cared. All that mattered was this moment, this connection, this exquisite pleasure—this soul.

“I want you inside me,” she murmured, gasping as she felt him, huge and hard, gliding inside, encased tightly, deeply within her. Her mind was spinning.

Never had she dreamed she could experience such passion, such complete and utter fulfillment in a man’s arms. Fear welled inside her that it was only temporary but she forced it away and concentrated on the incredible energy humming through her body. She could actually feel him plunge and recede time and time again. Was he feeling it too? Desire to please him overwhelmed her and she begged him to manifest.

“No, darlin’.” His drawl was thick as honey against her ear. “This is all for you.” And all the while he moved inside her slowly and precisely. Jillian arched beneath him, raising her hips so that his body ground against her clit and then his thrusts quickened, urgent and demanding, answering—rivaling—Jillian’s own passion.

Her nails dug into the sheets as she felt her passion building once more, taking her higher and higher, erupting inside her until she could hear herself crying out, calling Benton’s name.

When the spasms subsided she opened her eyes to discover she was once more on the bed, breathless and limp on the sheets, bathed in the mist of her own perspiration. Her body throbbed with pure pleasure. Wetness trickled down the inside of her thigh. But nagging at her thoughts was the idea she’d let it happen again. She had not risked his safety but after resolving not to risk her own heart, she’d foolishly let it happen again.

A soft kiss descended on her lips. Her eyes flew open and there was Benton. Beautiful. Naked. Smiling.

Jillian was not smiling.

Chapter Twelve

“What’s the matter?” Benton’s dove gray eyes filled with concern.

Jillian searched for words. How could she confess to a ghost she never wanted him to leave? She couldn’t throw that guilt trip on him. Her memory turned back to the revenant ghosts in the cemetery. If Benton didn’t go into the Light then he would always be at risk of being attacked by the soul collectors—of becoming one of those Light-less revenants.

Would he risk that for her? Jillian’s gaze sought his. Something in the soft gray pools told her he would. She bit her bottom lip.

It didn’t matter. She would never ask him to do such a thing. Never.

“Did I hurt you?” He moved languidly inside her.

She shook her head. “No.” Briefly she closed her eyes, her mind and body warring with conflicting emotions of how wonderful he felt buried deep inside her and how terribly her heart was breaking. How could he be so caring? So tender? She ached inside.

“Jillian?”

She opened her eyes. His fingers threaded through the dark hair at her temple while his thumb traced the arch of her eyebrow. “I wish you would tell me what I did wrong.” His breath was feather soft against her ear.

She swallowed the hard lump in her throat. “You didn’t do anything wrong.” Unable to contain her emotions any longer, a hot tear escaped and coursed down the side of her face.

“Then why are you crying?” He slanted his head down and kissed the tear away. It was a gesture that nearly proved to be Jillian’s undoing. A sob caught in her throat.

Her whole body became taut. She couldn’t tell him the real reason.

Her mind raced and came to a dead stop on the dream about Bruce Bowers. She still couldn’t shake the feeling that the nightmare had portended something—something very, very bad. It was not simply a dream of an event that
had
happened—it was something Jillian knew in her gut was
going
to happen. She was going to be to blame for something terrible happening to Benton.

“Darlin’, tell me why you’re crying.”

“That dream…”

Realization turned his expression from tender to bleak. He moved next to her in the bed, making Jillian painfully aware of the absence of the firm intensity of his energy on her body. She felt naked, exposed. With her foot, she pulled up the silvery comforter until she caught it with her fingers and then she drew it up just over the swell of her breasts.

Benton made no move to cover his own nakedness. Instead, he propped up on one elbow and waited for an explanation.

Jillian’s mouth went dry as her gaze raked his long, lean body. His chest was that perfect blend of sturdy muscle and smooth skin—ideal for resting a head on. His stomach was taut but not as ripped as a man who worked out in a gym. His musculature was all natural. She longed to run her palms over it, to trace the fine line of dark, wispy hair that led down to where to his still-hard, still-slick cock protruded arrogantly from a nest of black, black curls. A flutter of desire heated within Jillian’s pussy. She longed to touch him, to—

A fingertip caught her chin, interrupting her momentary escape and tilting her face back up so she looked into his eyes once more. Jillian’s cheeks infused with a warm blush.

“What about the dream?” This time his drawl was insistent. “Jillian, talk to me.”

She took a deep breath before she began. “In it, I was seeing things from Bruce Bowers’ perspective. It was as if I’d killed you, as if I were responsible for your death.” She swallowed. “And I’m afraid it’s going to come…come true.”

He drew her into his arms. Strong hands cradled her head. Sensuous lips brushed her forehead. This time his tenderness did prove to be her undoing. A sorrow-filled sob tore from her throat and she was no longer able to contain the torrent of tears that poured from her eyes.

“Hush, sweet.” His drawl was heavy with compassion. “You’re tired. You haven’t eaten. Rest, now. Sleep for a little while.”

“I can’t. I have to—”

A finger to her lips silenced her. “Just for a little while.” He snuggled her even closer.

Every fiber of Jillian’s being wanted to succumb, to lie here in his warm, strong embrace. She closed her eyes and gave herself permission to enjoy him for the short time she had left. Surely, it wasn’t that late. There was still time to go the office to look for evidence. Still time…

* * * * *

Jillian jolted awake. What time was it? She twisted her head and looked at the clock. 5:45. Damn, she’d overslept. But there was still time. She had to get up. She had to get up
now
. Throwing off the covers, she dashed out of bed and into the bathroom. Why had Benton let her sleep so long? And where was he?