Whispering Hearts (16 page)

Chapter Seventeen

Something shifted in Rachel's expression. Garrett couldn't miss it. He watched closely as she thought over what he said. Thought long and hard, from the looks of things.

She started off looking troubled, then shifted through perplexed and concerned before…relieved? Hopeful?

He didn't know how it was going to land.

Would she be mad? Hurt? Would she get up and walk out like she always did, leaving him to patch up his heart as best he could?

All he could do was wait. He held her arms lightly, let her stare into his soul, her hands gentle on his face.

She leaned in and kissed him.

He felt the shock of it in every cell of his body. Her lips—velvet soft—played across his mouth. A few tentative preludes before she became more aggressive. Her tongue found his, their breath mingling, her grip tightening to hold him right where she wanted him.

Was this still playing out from before? Was it about control or something else? Something deeper?

After everything he'd laid down on her, this wasn't at all what he expected. But he couldn't bring himself to stop her.

She pushed him farther onto his recliner and molded her body against his in a graceful lunge. The force of her movement made the chair kick back and flatten. She brought her knees up on either side of him, pressing their hips together.

He groaned as he felt her heat through her panties and his thin pajama bottoms. When had he grown rock-hard?

Damn, she knew how to kiss. He had imagined this so many times, but it was never this intense. There was always a slow build. He should have known better with Rachel.

She raked her teeth along his jaw. He felt it echo in every nerve ending in his body. She started rubbing against his erection as she lightly bit down on his neck.

Garrett sucked in a breath, trying to form a coherent thought. All he could do was groan and rock against her.

So many years full of
want
. And now he had her. Finally.

He let his hands glide down her back, past her waist, and cupped the fullness of her backside. She let out a little grunt, then moved her kisses up along his neck so she could suck and nip his earlobe. His fingers clenched against her flesh as electric pleasure crackled through him.

This was happening too fast. He needed a moment to catch his breath, to make sure they were on the same page.

If she was just doing this to say thanks or to give herself comfort… Well, he could comfort her in other ways. But not like this. This was too important.

She ran her nails over his chest, letting her fingertips burrow through his chest hair as she explored his torso.

“Rachel…”

She lifted herself from him a bit. He thought maybe she was going to stop so they could talk, but instead she pressed her hand against his abdomen, sliding it all the way down, right past the waist of his pajamas so she could grip his erection tight.

His head hit the back of his—thankfully—cushioned chair as his back arched. She didn't waste any time before starting to work him, pumping her hand up and down.

Her skin was soft as silk. His body must be glowing white-hot from how his nerves were firing off. They wouldn't be the only thing firing off any second now if she kept that up.

“Rachel—”

He grabbed her hand to stop its movement, but she didn't let go. Apparently she wasn't nearly done with him yet.

She nuzzled his cheek as she brought her lips back to his. The kiss was slow and deep. It gave him time to enjoy the taste of her, the warmth of her skin.

He had a chance to kiss her back. Really kiss her. Maybe it wasn't all about control after all.

He indulged himself, holding the kiss for long enough to saturate his senses with her before moving his mouth across hers, pulling first one lip then the other between his.

Her hair fell across his face and neck, feather-light. He let go of her arm to tuck it back behind her ear, then slowly slid his tongue into her mouth.

This was more the give-and-take he had imagined.

She didn't start up her hand again, and he couldn't say that he minded. He was way too close to the edge. Even holding still, her hand wrapped around him was sending lightning arcs of stimuli through him.

He needed to get her to let go—to give him a chance to cool down. There were still things he needed to talk to her about before this went any further.

As if she sensed his need, she finally let him go. She kept her hand down the front of his pants, though—playing with the sensitive skin above his hip and along his lower abdomen.

She shifted above him, kissing his cheek and jaw, then down along his neck. His eyes rolled shut as her gentle touches relaxed him.

Still, he managed to say, “We need to talk.”

She nuzzled his earlobe, and whispered, “There are much better things I can do with my mouth.”

He didn't doubt that one bit after what they'd just done. He groaned at the thought of doing more, but it wasn't the time. There were things they needed to work through.

She started to slide down toward the edge of the chair. Garrett kept his eyes closed for a minute and took a deep breath to help himself focus.

He needed to calm his body down, but he was wound up too tight. And she still had her hand down his pants. It was planted on his thigh for some reason. Probably so she could sit up.

The cool air of the AC hit his erection. That was the only warning he had before she wrapped her lips around him and sucked him deep into her mouth.

He let out a guttural cry as his body rocketed back up, his nerves singing in ecstasy. Her tongue flicked along his length, swirled around in circles that stoked him even higher. And all the while, she kept pumping him, lips wrapped around him tight.

He wanted to grab her and move her away. Part of him really did. But a stronger part, a more primal part, couldn't resist this pleasure. He looked down at her, watched as her golden hair slid across his stomach, and he came.

It was harder and faster than any climax he had ever experienced. His fingers dug into the arms of the chair, he couldn't catch his breath or stop the low grunts that escaped him.

And she never once stopped. She never slowed down. Even when his hips bucked up against her, she just rode him until he was spent, taking everything he was giving her, till the edges of his vision seemed to darken as the sensory overload threatened to make him pass out.

When she finally had mercy on him and let him slide from her mouth, she gently released the waistband of his pajama bottoms, then glanced up at him and gave him a wicked smile. She had just taken him down to the most primal level a man could reach, and she knew it.

And he wasn't sure why.

She slid back up his body, kissing a path to his mouth. He was still thrumming from what they had shared—physically more relaxed, but more on edge in every other way.

He tried to form his thoughts while she kissed him, but they all blurred together. When she was done, she leapt up from the chair.

“Why don't we skip breakfast altogether,” she said. “It's late enough that we can just have lunch.”

What. The. Hell.

Chapter Eighteen

Rachel had never felt more energized. She and Garrett were together.
Finally!
She couldn't wait for things to get back to how they had been when she lived with him before. Only this time it would be even better.

There were no more secrets between them. No more reasons to stay apart.

They were already living together again. It was amazing. The house was cleared and warded, and as soon as they solved the problems of the ghosts that were unhappy with her, they could focus on each other fully.

She was absolutely going to start taking care of him now. That little episode in the recliner was just the appetizer. They would need their strength for the next things she had in mind.

As he rose from the recliner, she said, “Is there still lunchmeat in the fridge? I can make us more sandwiches.”

Garrett was staring at her with his mouth slightly open. Oh yeah. He had enjoyed himself. She felt her smile broaden.

“Rachel, what the hell was that?” he asked.

She wanted to say
foreplay
but something in the way he was looking at her made her stop. He ran his hands through his hair, resting them on top of his head and holding his bangs away from his face. The supermodel pose accentuated his broad chest and narrow hips.

He was unbelievably beautiful. With his hair out of the way, she had a clear view of his strong cheekbones and jaw—those rich blue eyes.

She wanted to push him right back down on the recliner. Except his eyes were pinched around the edges. And he was frowning—not what she expected after what they had shared.

“I don't understand,” she said.

“
You
don't understand?” He let his arms drop to his sides. Even under all that stubble she could see a muscle in his cheek twitching.

He shook his head and said, “I can't keep up. One minute you're happy to be here, the next you're out the door any second. You ask for my help, but you don't listen to what I say, then you do a one-eighty and are going to do everything on your own. You're terrified of ghosts, then you're inviting one to breakfast.”

“If this is about Misha—”

“This isn't about Misha! It's about
us
. It's always been about us. How you look at me like…something's there, then laugh it off and flit away.” He pointed at the recliner and said, “And then you do
that
and immediately jump to lunch like nothing happened?”

“I—”

“You can't blow me just to let off steam! It has to mean something.”

“Of course it means something.” Her heart felt like it had stopped beating, like it was curled up in her chest.

“What? ‘Thanks for letting me crash here'?”

“How can you say that? I would never—”

Anger and disappointment clawed at her throat, cutting off her words. She would never be so casual about what she'd just done. Especially with him. How could he think that of her?

He put his hands over his face for a moment, then slid them along his cheeks till they were held in front of his lips as if he was praying. He dropped his arms to his sides again, letting out a deep breath. Somehow, it seemed to diminish him, like more than air was escaping. He looked crushed.

“I'm sorry. I said I would get a handle on myself, and I…messed it up again.” He bowed his head and murmured, “Shit. There's no going back now anyway.”

When he looked up at her, his eyes were blazing. It wasn't anger or frustration. It warmed her—made heat pool deep in her belly—even in the midst of this awful conversation.

“I love you, Rachel. I have since the night we met.”

The room started to spin around her. No matter how confident she was about his feelings for her, there was always room for doubt. Until this moment. Hearing the words was so much better than making assumptions about how he felt. And he had more to say.

“When you were staying here working on the house… I've never been happier in my life. It felt like how forever should be. I thought we had both found
the
one
. Then it was gone—you were gone—and I didn't know why. Still don't.”

He shook his head and went on. “But I still want it. What we had, whatever it was. I want it so much it eats me up inside. I've tried to get over it. To get over you. But every time I started to give up on the dream of us being together, you'd throw me a crumb and I'd think maybe we still had a shot.”

Rachel's heart was pounding so much she was lightheaded. She knew she had hurt him in the past and wanted to make up for that. She thought that was what she had been doing. That she was starting something beautiful with him. But she had only managed to make things worse—to hurt him more.

“I can't keep doing this. I can't—” His voice broke. It actually broke. Rachel's heart cracked along with it.

He cleared his throat. When he spoke again, his voice was low and quiet—so gentle it made her ache.

“You can stay here as long as you need. I will help you any way I can, except…” He angled his head slightly toward the recliner. “Except that. But I need to know where I stand with you. Once and for all.”

Rachel couldn't speak. Her chest was so tight, she could barely breathe. She felt the tears on her cheeks but didn't move to wipe them away.

All she could do was nod.

“Take some time,” his voice was still painfully gentle. “I'm going to go cool off.”

She closed her eyes so she wouldn't have to watch him walk away, but she felt him passing. She wanted to reach for him, to tell him he had it all wrong. But that would be reacting again. She couldn't risk hurting him any more than she already had.

She still didn't understand what had happened. She replayed that last few minutes in her mind, picking everything apart for clues.

They were talking… He wanted her to be more authentically herself. She thought that was what she was doing. Showing him how she really felt, letting herself be free to express who she was, passionate and adventurous and energetic.

And he couldn't keep up.

She was mercurial. She couldn't change that. She didn't want to have to change to be with someone. With Garrett, she never felt that she had to. Until now.

He kept going on about how she could be practical and focused. It was true. When she was working on a project, she did feel different. Confident… In charge. She didn't need to jump from one topic or activity to another just to keep her mind occupied.

Which was the real her?

Both. She couldn't deny it. And because of that, for the first time she truly wasn't sure if she and Garrett should be together. Not for any of the paranormal reasons or issues with her dysfunctional family. But because of who she was.

The hopelessness of that thought weighed her down. She felt like she would sink through the floor at any moment.

She wasn't right for him after all. He wouldn't be happy with her.

Something thumped against the sliding glass doors. And again and again. More freaking lubbers.

Dammit!
She had enough problems in her
own
life. She didn't need to be distracted by other peoples' afterlives.

She wasn't going to feel guilty that she was the only person to escape from Michael. Those other women needed to know that she was going to help them, but on
her
terms.

Going outside wasn't safe. She couldn't control the environment well enough. Plan B, then.

Rachel went to the kitchen and grabbed the container of salt, then stalked to her room. She trailed a thick line of the crystals across the entire threshold of her doorway, but left the door open. The barrier she'd made could be disturbed too easily. Besides, she wanted to be able to leap over it if she needed to. No ghosts would be able to cross that line.

They'd definitely need to get more salt soon. Rather, Garrett would. There was no
they
involved.

Wiping the back of her hand across her eyes and nose, she stood, then went to the bathroom. She grabbed a washcloth and wet it.

For a moment, she thought about tearing the sheet away from the mirror so she could face the women when she confronted them. Remembering their expressions, their wounds… Not a good idea.

She went back to her room and opened her blinds all the way. She wiped down the window, getting all the saltwater off the glass, then pulled her reading chair closer to it.

With a deep breath, she climbed up on it and took down her witch's ball and the poppet.

Nothing happened at first. That wasn't too much of a surprise. She climbed back down and tucked the poppet and glass ball under the sheet on her bed.

Turning the chair to face the window, she sat and waited.

Moments ticked by. She was getting restless. Her thoughts went back to Garrett and her stomach clenched.

“You look unhappy.”

The voice whispering close to her ear made her jerk away. It was male, but didn't sound like Misha. A chill swept over her skin.

“I didn't mean to startle you, pet.”
The genial tone returned.
“Is everything all right with your doctor friend?”

“I don't want to talk about that. Were you able to find the women I'm looking for?”

“Goodness but you sound serious. No, I'm afraid I didn't have much luck there.”

“I know they're close. They keep sending grasshoppers to bounce off the windows and they impelled a scorpion to crawl through the drain in the dishwasher.”

“That sounds unlikely. Impelling animals takes skill and a certain mindset. I doubt those women have enough self-control to do so.”

Rachel bristled on their behalf. “Excuse me?”

“Because they're upset, of course. They would need to focus their emotions to channel them properly to get an animal to do what they want.”

What he said made sense, even though she didn't like how he said it. What didn't make sense was the grasshoppers' behavior. One isolated incident wasn't suspicious. Three? That couldn't be a coincidence.

“Something is making them act strangely,” she said.

“Does the doctor have a lawn service? Perhaps a chemical sprayed in the yard recently upset them.”

“I suppose it's possible…”

“What's truly troubling you, pet?”

“I'm not a pet. Stop calling me that.”

“Of course. My apologies.”

She shouldn't have snapped at him, but the level of despair she felt was reminding her of her time in Michael's garage. Her hopes had risen higher than ever in her life, and then been dashed. Even the dream of being with Garrett was gone.

If she thought about it more she would start crying again. And she was sick of crying.

She stood and started pacing the room. “There has to be something else going on. Those women I saw at my mother's house must be around here somewhere.”

Rachel remembered how angry they had been, how terrified. Both at her mother's and in Michael's garage. They weren't walking away from this—from her.

“My dear, if you would tell me what is wrong, perhaps I could help you.”

“Find me those ghosts. That's how you can help.”

“Patience is required in this case.”

Rachel snorted. Misha wanted her to slow down too. More waiting. If she hadn't delayed so long with Garrett, things might have worked out differently. But could they have lasted as a couple, knowing the issues he was having now?

“I'm beginning to grow worried. Is Dr. Wolfstrom all right? I would check myself, but you've warded the house quite effectively.”

“This isn't my first rodeo. I doubt it will be my last.”

Her voice had a growl to it that even surprised her. Misha was quiet for a while. Good. Let him know—let them all know—she was done being messed with. She was done having people tell her who to be or how to act.

She was psychic. She was smart. She was weird. And most of all, she was tired of hiding it all. Hiding who she was and how she felt.

And how she felt…

She loved Garrett.

“Does he know you took the wards down?”
Misha asked.

“Of course not,” she said. “He would never have let me.”

“He has good reason for his concern.”

“I get it! He only sees me at my worst! When he's picking up the pieces after I make bad decisions. But this is the last time. After this, he won't be seeing me at all. He's done with me.”

The words—the thought of it—tore at her heart. No more Garrett. He was out of her life forever. She had ruined everything.

“I highly doubt that.”

She sat heavily on her bed, shoulders slumping. “He'll be better off. He as much as said so.”

“There is no way he said such a thing.”

“He can't keep up. That's what he said.”

Misha chuckled.
“No one can keep up with you, my dear! I don't have a body to exhaust, and I still get tired following you around. That doesn't mean he doesn't want to be with you. Accept who you are and believe that he does the same and you'll both be happier.”

“No. I've put him through enough.”

There was a long pause, then Misha said.
“If you walk away now, you'll destroy him.”

Misha's voice was somber and low. The hair on Rachel's arms stood on end. Ghosts only spoke like that if they had an ace up their sleeve.

“How can you be so certain?”

“Because I understand why he's so overprotective. Why the tiny scorpion brought out such a huge reaction.”

She had thought it was weird at the time, but was distracted by Garrett naked in his kitchen. Even now, the memory of seeing him in all his glory—and nothing else—made her body tingle.