Rampant

“When you say ‘the spirit resides there’ are you avoiding using the ‘ghost’ word?” She’d adopted a slightly bemused expression, which tickled him no end. At least he had her attention, which was a step in the right direction. And just looking at her made him think about how she’d been last night, her receptive nature. Not just Annabel, no.

“Not necessarily. The spirit can reside in the form of psychic energy and not make a ghostly appearance. From what I can tell about Her Haven, the spirit was dormant until very recently. The visitors talked about the atmosphere changing.”

He didn’t want to mention sightings. He was pretty sure Annabel had already identified with Zoë, but whether she would appear to her was another thing altogether, and that depended on how Annabel wanted to play it, and why she was identifying with Zoë at all. He knew he couldn’t go into too much detail too soon, or Zoë would run. He didn’t want that, all he really wanted right then was to take her back to bed, and not for sleep.

“My proposition to you is th

at the house and the spirit in it encouraged mischief between us last night, and thrived on it.”

Shaking her head, she pulled the marmalade pot closer and slapped some of it on a piece of toast. “You know, I’ve heard some far-fetched excuses from men when they decide it was a one-night stand and they regretted it.” She paused, and color hit her cheekbones. “But this one takes the trophy.”

Grayson had the feeling he was handling this badly.

“It’s not an excuse for last night, that’s not what I’m trying to say at all.” At this point, he began to think that Annabel was much more likely to convince her than he was, with mere words alone. The residual psychic phenomenon was still manifest in the atmosphere, even though it wasn’t visible to the naked eye. Soon enough, she would grow aware of it.

But he was trying to forewarn her.

“If you regretted what you did last night,” she said, “just say so. We’re both grown-ups here.”

“I don’t regret it at all, that’s not what I’m saying.”

“But you are trying to tell me that you only shagged me because some ghost made you do it?”

Now it was him that was frowning. Why couldn’t Annabel have picked a more receptive person to channel through? “No, if anything I am suggesting that you were more willing to shag me because of the sense of mischief here.”

Her eyes rounded.

Oh, boy, he was explaining this badly.

“So you don’t think I am capable of wanting a man all by myself, without some interference from…beyond?” She waved her hand at the walls.

He took a deep breath. She hardly knew him. He needed to gain her trust. “That’s not what I’m saying, quite the opposite.” He pushed his fingers through his hair, took another swig of tea. This was hard. Was it because he sensed her denial was deep-rooted or because he was physically distracted by her that he was messing up? “You’re a very attractive, sensual woman. I wanted you, that was nothing to do with the house or the spirit.”

She gave him a wary glance, then lifted her fork and ate a little scrambled egg.

“What I’m suggesting is that the spirit in the house tuned in to the attraction between us. The atmosphere has changed in here because of the psychic energy our…relationship has released.”

She put the fork down and stared at him as if she couldn’t quite believe it. She clearly thought he was insane. Why wasn’t he explaining this better? Granted, he was used to talking to believers, or to receptive students and people in the field. Perhaps it was because he was crap at communicating with women. His only attempt at a long-term setup had exposed that. Fenella Warbuoys, a fellow academic, had told him he was a real hotshot when it came to all the touchy-feely stuff and the sex, but he didn’t have the first clue how to communicate with a woman. That was some put-down, especially from a stern mathematician who dealt with cold, hard algorithms all day. He hadn’t retaliated. If he had, he might not have been carrying her accusation this long. Whatever, it meant he never tried for more than fast, no-strings sex with the women he met.

And now a lot depended on him communicating successfully with Zoë here. Great. Just great. Keep it light, he told himself. She was here for a holiday. He had to make it sound interesting.

“Zoë, I enjoyed last night. You did, too. I know you did. If you’re interested in a little more sexual experimentation, it would be fun to see what happened.”

Looking at her, waiting for her response, he had the feeling that his suggestion was ill fated.

He was right.

“Oh…my…God.” She stared at him, horror-struck, her eyebrows lifted. “First of all you seduce me in order to get in here.” She waved her piece of toast around the room. A dollop of marmalade slid off the toast and splatted on her chest. She was too wound up to notice, and it was headed for her cleavage. “To do your so-called research,” she continued, “and now you expect me to be your assistant on this wild goose chase?”

Yup, he’d hit the last nail in the coffin.

He stood up and reached for the tea towel that he’d abandoned earlier. Dropping to his knees beside her, he dabbed carefully at her chest.

“Marmalade,” he explained when she pulled away, looking at him as if he were certifiable. He lifted most of it off with the tea towel. “It fell.” There was still a sticky residue clinging to her, and now he was getting hard because he was two inches from her cleavage and he had one hand on her thigh, and all he could think about was pulling her legs apart and hauling her close against his cock.

Her nipples were as hard as pebbles. He could see them through her shirt. Cupping her left breast in one hand, he went in for the rest of the marmalade with his tongue, licking the sticky smear off her, repeating the action when he felt the tension in her body ease and she undulated against him, her hands shifting to hold his head close against her cleavage.

She moaned softly.