Wild Men of Alaska Collection - By Helmer, Tiffinie Page 0,87
Dreamweaver?
This day had been too long already. Sleep. She had to get some sleep.
“Yes,” Tern said. “I don’t know why or how this is possible but any chance to have Lucky back, no matter the capacity, I’ll take. He was robbed of his life. And...I owe him.”
“Tell her she doesn’t owe me anything,” Lucky’s voice came from her left this time.
She jumped. “You have got to stop doing that.” The man needed to stay put and quit floating around.
“Gemma? What’s going on? Is he there?”
“Uh...yes. He said you don’t owe him anything.”
“Of course he would say that. But he’s wrong. Tell him I love him, and whatever he needs from me he has it.”
Gemma turned toward where she assumed Lucky still was and went to repeat Tern’s message.
“I heard,” Lucky said. “Tell her thank you, but she’s wrong. My situation is nobody’s fault but my own, and the one who has already been punished.”
She repeated what Lucky had said, wanting answers herself.
“Oh man, I’m going to cry,” Tern said. “Gemma, promise me you’ll give him a chance. In fact, get some sleep. The unconscious mind will be open to the astral plane more so than if you are awake.”
Right now she didn’t want to be open to the astral plane. Gemma wasn’t sure how much Lucky could hear from Tern’s side of the conversation but didn’t want to share this little gem of information. “You know this goes completely against what you and Siri have been saying from the start.”
“Forget all that. This is Lucky. You are fated. I’ll go and let you two be together.” And then she was gone. Gemma had a strong feeling the “be together” wasn’t sharing a cup of coffee.
Gemma put the phone down on the counter, looking around the kitchen feeling exposed.
“Lucky?”
“I’m here.” She felt his hand on her cheek trying not to freak out that her eyes were open and she could feel him but not see him or his outline in the harsh lighting of the kitchen.
She took a step back, part of her weeping inside at the loss of his touch falling away.
“Talk to me. Tell me what you’re feeling.”
Couldn’t he read her thoughts?
“They’re coming too fast and jumbled for me to make sense of them. Gemma—”
He couldn’t make sense of them? Try having them. “I think it’s best if you go now. I need some time. This is...too much. I can’t make sense of anything.”
“You’re thinking too hard.”
“Of course I’m thinking too hard. How do I not? I’m falling in love with a dead man, my mother is off her meds, and I’m beginning to think I need to get on some.” She pressed her palms against her temples where her head pounded. She hadn’t eaten and now couldn’t as her stomach bubbled with anxiety.
“You’re falling in love with me?”
“That’s what you picked out from all of that?” The question coming out a bit hysterical. “Not the being dead part, my mother nuttier than a granola bar and me following in her footsteps? None of that concerns you at all?”
“Are we about to have our first fight?”
“Holy balls! You would think dying would have gained you some insight.”
“I really like how your skin flushes when you’re angry,” his voice rumbled with arousal.
“Are you freaking kidding me?”
“No. Your skin does that same thing when I—”
“Okay, enough. Let me tell you something, yelling in my kitchen, by all accounts appearing to be alone, to a spirit who is turned on by it is not an attraction for me.” She suddenly felt Lucky behind her, his hands massaging her shoulders.
“Close your eyes. I can make you forget everyone and everything.” His voice purred into her ear, making her want to give in. For a moment she did, closing her eyes and leaning into his body, her blood quickening at his obvious arousal. She wanted to turn and bury her head in his shoulder, grip his backside in her hands and pull him to her. Strip him of his clothes—did he even wear clothes?—at least, strip hers and then ride him until she thought of nothing.
He gave a painful groan, his hands leaving her shoulders to grab her hips, holding her tight against him. “Yesss,” he hissed.
All it would take was the relaxation of her body against his. One thought and she knew he’d have her naked and writhing on her kitchen floor. Did she want that?
“God, please say yes, Gemma.” His lips trailed down her neck, his teeth grazing her shoulder.