Cursed by a witch, Ian O’Meara has been trapped between the world of the living and the spirit realm for the last hundred and fifty years. Annoyed by having his eternity interrupted by amateur ghost hunters, he reaches through the veil to Emma Boulton knowing she can see and hear him even if the others can’t. When he discovers she can also feel him, he decides Emma is the most exciting thing to happen to him in the last century. Suddenly, escaping his miserable curse isn’t quite so appealing.
Much to her dismay, Emma has been able to see ghosts ever since she was a child. Most of the time she ignores them, but Ian makes that all but impossible. With his dark, good looks and his brooding personality, he’s a gothic novel hero come to life…so to speak. She knows she should help him toward the light, but the only place he seems to be interested in is her bed. Falling in love with the charming spirit is all too easy, but is a future together possible between the living and the dead?
When she opened her door, she found Ian on her bedroom floor reading, much as he’d been the night before. Only this time he wasn’t reading her Book of Shadows or her Grimoire, he was engrossed in an erotic novel she’d had hidden behind her spell books. Several more volumes were stacked at his side.
“Your sister left to go shopping with Rowan,” he said, never looking up from the story.
“Okay.” She turned away to hide the bright red flush creeping over her cheeks. Keeping her back to him, she pulled a pair of underwear from the drawer and hastily put them on. She grabbed a bra and, suddenly shy, cast a quick glance at him.
He watched her intently, blue eyes dark with arousal, a noticeable bulge in his jeans. “You won’t be needing that, love,” he said firmly.
“Beg your pardon?” she managed to choke out.
His eyes shone with wicked excitement. “I’ve discovered something important in these books.”
She eyed the titles on the floor. She knew exactly what was in those books, and she sure as hell didn’t like where this was going.
He pushed to his feet and crossed the room to stand before her, his gaze holding hers the entire time. Drawing a finger down the center of her chest, he slowly separated the robe. It parted like wet paper, barely resisting when he tugged at the loose knot holding her sash together. The fabric opened, and a rush of cool air tightened her nipples against the material that scarcely covered them.
Ian’s breath caught as his finger continued its downward trek to stop at the edge of her panties. Her pussy moistened in anticipation, and she couldn’t help but wonder if he could smell her arousal. He ran his finger along the edge of the silky, purple fabric. Goose bumps followed in the wake of his touch, spreading across her skin like a trail of need. He snaked an arm around her waist and pulled her flush against his body. His rock-hard erection pressed into her softness, making her ache.
“You’re so beautiful,” he breathed as he lowered his head to claim her mouth. He coaxed her lips apart, nibbling at her, stroking with his tongue as he deepened the kiss. She was vaguely aware of him walking her backward, but she was still startled when her knees hit the back of the bed.
Gently, he toppled her backwards, following her down onto the mattress. He raised his head and stared into her eyes. “Aren’t you curious about what I discovered?”
She swallowed hard but couldn’t respond.
“Shall I tell you, then?” Without waiting for her to answer, he slid his hand over her stomach, the muscles trembling and jumping beneath his touch. “I realized that all of those books naturally fell open to a specific part in the story as if they’d been read repeatedly. And all of those sections had one thing in common.”
She closed her eyes in embarrassment. She’d never shared her fantasies with anyone else, and Ian managed to stumble across them on accident.
He traced the outer edge of her lips with his fingertip. “In each story,” he continued, his voice rough and his brogue more apparent, “the woman’s lover ties her up and fucks her.”
She gasped, unable to keep the sound from escaping.
“Have you ever let anyone take you like that?” he asked as he nuzzled the underside of her breast.
Speech had deserted her completely. She shook her head. She’d never trusted a lover enough to tell him about her secret desires let alone act on them.
Sheer male satisfaction glowed in his eyes. He tugged the belt from her robe, then straddling her body, rapidly bound her wrists and secured them to the headboard. She tugged at the binding, finding herself immobilized. A hungry throb started deep in her pussy, and she squirmed beneath him. A fresh rush of moisture dampened her panties as Ian sat back on his heels and surveyed her. He pushed open her robe, completely baring her breasts. Her aching nipples stabbed upward into the chilly, morning air. Tight and swollen, they begged for the touch of his fingers, his mouth.
Reaching out, he rolled each one between his thumb and his forefinger—pinching and tugging—making her cry out. With her hands bound, it was nearly impossible to muffle her sounds. He bent over her and drew a swollen peak into his mouth. She arched off the bed, trying to get him to take more. She groaned as he switched to the other nipple while tormenting the damp one with his fingers. The harder he sucked, the more she wanted. She lifted her hips, repeatedly trying to make some kind of contact with his body. She’d never felt so needy in her life.
Ian climbed off the bed to stand at the foot end. He watched her through desire-darkened eyes. “Spread your legs,” he commanded. “I want to see how wet this makes you.”