She grinned. “You weren’t teasing me about this place being haunted, were you?”
His great aunt – who’d never balked at the notion of lingering spirits like he did – had said a few times that she thought there might be a spirit in the house. Harmless and only occasionally sensed, but there. He’d mentioned his aunt’s claim to Karen on a whim, teasing her, and had immediately feared that he’d hurt her. Mentioning ghost stories so soon after her grandmother’s death … he’d cringed as he’d waited for her reaction. He didn’t believe in that stuff, but for someone who did…
But she’d seemed interested, even delighted.
“My great aunt said she thought it might be. I’ve never seen anything. Don’t know if she ever did either, for that matter.”
“Well, you never know,” she said, walking a circuit of the foyer and drifting toward the living area. “Have you ever spent the night here?”
“Not since I was a kid.” He’d always returned to his apartment after spending time taking care of the house. He’d never had any desire to stay overnight before, but this – with Karen – seemed right. She was obviously getting a kick out of the historical house. It made him happy to see her so excited, running a hand reverently over a hand-carved bannister at the foot of the staircase, then inspecting an empty curio cabinet that stood in one corner of the living room.
“Are you ever going to move in?” she asked. “Or do you plan to sell it?”
He shook his head. “I wouldn’t feel right selling this place. My great aunt loved the house so much – I know she wanted it to stay in the family.” He didn’t believe in ghosts, but he believed in honoring the memories of the dead when possible. “At first I couldn’t imagine myself living here. But lately, I’ve been thinking the time may be right for a change.”
“This place is so much bigger than your apartment.” She tipped back her head, toward a high ceiling skirted by original crown molding.
He nodded, though it wasn’t like he needed the space. The move he was contemplating was more about moving on. No more stagnating in his apartment just because he’d once shared it with Alice. No more leaving her things on display, untouched. Those old habits couldn’t bring her back, so what was the point?
The apartment, the detritus of their long-vanished domestic life together … those things had rekindled his grief a dozen times a day, and in a way, keeping the fire alive had felt like loyalty. But deep down, he knew that was a lie, that it was exactly the opposite of what Alice would have wanted for him.
He gave Karen a tour, pointing out the house’s original features and supplementing the architectural facts with what scraps of the place’s history he could remember from his great aunt. Karen smiled and nodded and touched things carefully, like she was afraid she’d break something. Eventually he led her upstairs, to a hall lined with bedroom doors.
“I thought we could spend the night in this one,” he said, opening the door to the master bedroom. “It still has a bed, and I brought some clean sheets.”
Only some of his great aunt’s furniture was still present in the house. She’d given him her home, but had left some of the furniture to other relatives. What was left would do, for now – for the night.
They made the bed together, layering linens and a comforter he’d picked up the day before. When that was done he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her down onto it, slipping a hand beneath her shirt and pushing it up, eventually pulling it over her head. After tossing her bra onto the hardwood floor, he cradled her breasts in his hands, squeezing as her nipples pricked against his palms, warm and hard.
He lowered his head, brushed the swell of one breast with his lips and closed his them around her nipple, drawing it deep into his mouth as he pressed a hand to the small of her back, liking the feel of her arching into him, her spine bowing beneath his fingers. He teased the stiff tip of her breast with tongue and teeth until she was writhing against him, breathing hard.
Unzipping the fly of her jeans, he dipped his fingers into her panties and found her clit. He rubbed it, letting friction warm his fingertips, until she came, her ragged breaths rushing through his hair and sending a frisson down his spine. Straightening, he raised his head and allowed his gaze to linger on her face, memorizing the auburn spread of her lashes fanned against the soft skin beneath her eyes.
Moments later she was fumbling with his belt buckle, loosening his jeans and raking her fingertips over his chest, beneath his shirt. He let her struggle with his clothing for a few moments, her nails scraping over the surface of his skin and making it pebble. Then he helped her, stripping off his things before divesting her of her jeans and panties.