Dax took one more glance at her eyes, gray now, with no hint of silver anymore. But they weren’t black yet, and he prayed they’d stay that way, at least until she came. He wanted to take this slow, but slow wasn’t an option anymore.
“Now spread your legs, chère.” She did, and Dax moved his face to her most feminine spot and licked.
Heat, fiery, blazing, sizzling heat met his tongue, made his lips burn, and he delved deeper.
Celeste arched her back, lifted her hips and pressed against his mouth, while Dax ran his tongue up her quivering folds to her sensitive nub, accessible and exposed and perfect. He kissed it, then he flicked his tongue over it while her hips rose higher and she moaned his name.
“Please, please, I’m…almost…”
He moved his tongue faster, then felt her body tense as she strained to find release and fell just short of her climax. He wasn’t going to make her wait any longer; she was getting way too close to the edge, way too close to being taken from him again, and he didn’t want to lose her yet.
He pressed his mouth against her hot clitoris and sucked it between his lips, then she screamed, vigorously riding his mouth with hard, quick convulsions, her sweet juices soaking her pulsing center. Dax slid his mouth toward her opening and licked the delicious treat.
While she shuddered through the last ripples, he continued to lick her, kiss her, adore her. Then, when her body finally stilled, he rose above her and saw her eyes, dark charcoal and glazed with fulfilled desire.
“That was wonderful,” she whispered while he moved beside her, careful to keep his body against hers but his hands away from temptation.
“Yes,” he agreed. “It was.”
She closed her eyes, then slowly opened them again, and Dax could see the exhaustion claiming her spirit.
He frowned, and started to tell her, but she knew.
She gave him a soft smile, then reached out and touched his mouth with her finger. “I know. I need to rest now, or I’ll be taken again.” She nodded. “Don’t worry. I’m not going to leave you too soon this time. I’ll rest, but when I wake up…”
“When you wake up,” he said, his mouth moving against her finger as he spoke, “we’re going to talk.”
She blinked, then gave him a sultry smile. “On one condition.”
“Name it.”
“After we talk, I want to know.”
“Know what?” he asked.
“I want to know if there’s any way possible that it could be even hotter when you’re deep inside.” She slid her finger from his mouth, then moved her hand to her womanhood. “I want to feel that heat…deep in here.”
“Then promise me something, chère.”
“Name it,” she said, grinning as she echoed his words.
“You’ll get plenty of rest now, because after you wake up, and we talk, you’re going to need it.”
11
THE SOUND OF Dax’s stomach growling woke Celeste from a blissful sleep. She giggled as she rolled over, opened her eyes and viewed the beautifully naked man beside her on the bed. At one point during the night, he’d retrieved a silk necktie from the closet and asked her to tie his hands to one of the bedposts. They were still there, stretched above his head in a position that could in no way be considered comfortable. Safe, yes. Comfortable, no. But he’d said that he didn’t trust himself to keep his hands off her unless they were otherwise engaged.
The thought that she had that much power over him sent an arrow of desire straight to her core.
“You know, I could get used to waking up and finding a guy all naked and tied up and waiting for me,” she said, leaning above him and watching the way her glowing hair tickled his chest and his nipples promptly responded. “Even if his stomach does sound rather monster-like.”
He smirked. “I’m sure you could, and I’ve done my damnedest not to wake you, even though it’s well past lunchtime.”
Lunchtime? She turned toward the windows and realized that when he’d gotten up to get the necktie, he’d also untied the heavy drapes and let them completely cloak the room in darkness. “How long have we slept?”
“Oh, at least ten hours, but I’m going to have to leave this bed now, or I must admit rather embarrassingly, if I stay here much longer, I may wet the bed.” He indicated his impressive erection. “I’m afraid it’s not entirely due to arousal this time.”
“Oh, I’m so sorry.” She scrambled up the mattress to loosen the necktie at the post. Evidently, her knot-tying skills were improving if he wasn’t able to slide his hands free. She grinned.
“Hey, it’s not that funny,” he chided, sliding his arms free, then wincing when his shoulders cracked and popped as he moved them gingerly back in place.
She covered her grin with her hand. “I’m so sorry,” she repeated. “I could have slept over there-” she indicated the reading chair that occupied a far corner of the room “-and then you wouldn’t have had to worry about accidentally touching me, or anything.”
“As if I’d let you sleep anywhere but beside me while you’re here.” He gave her a reprimanding look. “Don’t even think about it, chère.” Then he climbed naked from the bed and grinned at her. “Besides, I’m not complaining. I wouldn’t trade watching you sleep or feeling you against me for anything, but right now, duty does call.”
He walked toward the bathroom while Celeste stared at his magnificent behind. Then he paused at the door and glanced back at her in a caught-ya-looking move.
“Hey, what can I say? I like what I see,” she said.
“Me too,” he said. “In fact, I like one thing very much, your eyes are silver again.”
She scooted across the bed and rose on her knees to see her reflection in the mirror above the dresser. Sure enough, her eyes were silver, not black like the other ghosts she’d seen. Funny, she’d never thought to look at them before, but apparently Dax had, and he’d noticed the distinction between her and the other spirits. “What does that mean, that they’re silver?”
“It means you’ve rested well,” he said. “They turn darker when you start to get tired, and then, when they turn black…”
“I go back?”
“Yeah.”
“Have you ever seen another ghost with silver eyes?”
“Nope, and neither has any of the other Vicknairs. Nan and I have started a list of differences, in fact, while we’ve been analyzing some letters from the attic.”
“Letters?” she asked, still staring at her image in that mirror and still not quite adjusting to the difference. She didn’t look like herself with these odd-colored eyes.
“I got a note from Grandma Adeline telling me that what Nanette and I needed was in the attic. We’ve been looking for proof that the house was inhabited during the Civil War. That’ll give us a better chance of saving our home.”
“Saving it? From what?”
“It’s a long story, but basically, ever since Katrina hit, the parish president has the power to remove all hazardous structures, and for some reason, he doesn’t want to give us the time we need to get this place fixed back up. Nan and I are trying to get it put on the National Historic Register to tie his hands. But while we were looking for that, I’ve also been trying to find answers about why you’re stuck in the middle the way you are. Grandma Adeline said that what Nan and I were looking for was in the attic. Granted, I’ve been helping her try to get information about the house, but I really thought she was referring to your situation, and I also really thought that those letters would help.”
“And they haven’t?”
“No. Well, not yet, anyway. Then again, there’s no reason for me to worry about getting information from those old papers while I’ve got you here. Surely we can figure this out together, and we’ll start with the list Nanette and I have made of differences between you and other ghosts.”
“Okay,” she said, holding her hair back and then tilting her head one way, and then the other, to get a better look at the odd-colored eyes. “What could it mean, that they’re different?” When she was living, her eyes had been green, the same bright green as both of her parents’, and her older sister’s, Nelsa. She frowned, and realized that she’d never see their green eyes again. Then she wondered…why wouldn’t she? Prissy had been allowed to see her parents again, and now Angelle was doing the same thing. Why hadn’t she been given another chance?