Page 16 of A Gift of Ghosts

CHAPTER NINE

  The post-orgasmic bliss lasted two or three minutes—not bad for Akira. The post-sex anxiety started immediately thereafter.

  Shit. She’d slept with her boss. And not just slept with him, seduced him. Hell, she hadn’t even made him buy her dinner first. And that third date rule? Smashed to bits.

  But he’d bought her a pool table, she reminded herself. Oh, not as a gift, of course, but she knew that pool table was here so that she would play with him. A small smile crept across her face, and she turned her head, letting her lips brush across his bare shoulder. His arm tightened around her.

  They were still lying on the couch, still tangled together. Zane had gotten up briefly, then returned, shifting so that she was half on top of him, tucked into the secure side of the couch, her back pressing against its back.

  “So,” Zane murmured. “How did you get so good at pool?”

  Pool, huh? That was what he was interested in? Well, it was what she’d been thinking about, too. “Practice, practice, practice and . . .”

  “Let me guess, more practice.”

  “We had a pool table in the house. My dad and I played a lot. Almost every day before he got really sick.”

  Zane stroked his hand down her back, a touch that felt sympathetic, not sexual, but before he could say anything else, his phone buzzed. There was a mutual pause, a hesitation born of uncertainty. Would they let the interruption break the moment? And then Akira moved, shifting off Zane and away, so that he could get up. With a resigned sigh, he swung his legs off the couch and reached for his jeans. As he dug out his phone, she gathered up her clothes, and quickly began to dress.

  “Damn it,” he muttered as he read his incoming text.

  “Bad news?”

  “You could say that,” he agreed, not looking up from his phone as he one-handedly typed a response.

  Akira pulled her tank top over her head and looked around for her sweater. Where had she left it? Ah, right, across the room, draped over the Asteroids cabinet. She grabbed it, but didn’t slip it on, clutching it in her hand as she returned to the couch. “Well, I’ll just leave you to it, I guess.”

  “No, no, no,” Zane said, springing to his feet, and stepping closer to her.

  “No?” Akira asked the question lightly, smiling, trying not to let the trickle of relief she felt at his words show on her face. Navigating the territory between flirtation, casual sex, friends with benefits, or something more was so damn hard. It wasn’t that she had any expectations: she’d acted on an impulse, and if it was only a fun evening, well, it had still been fun. But it was nice that he didn’t want her to leave. Maybe more than nice.

  “No,” he repeated firmly. He hadn’t put on any clothes yet, but he didn’t seem at all self-conscious about his nudity as he took her hand and tugged her closer, lifting her hand to his mouth and pressing his lips against her knuckles, before dropping it and sliding his hand around the nape of her neck. She swayed into him, feeling the liquid warmth starting again, the tingle of attraction running through her veins. Leaning down so that his lips were only a few inches away from hers, he added huskily, “A good teacher should never leave her pupils confused.”

  “Confused?” Akira breathed the question, eyes on his mouth.

  “I’m a very bad physics student,” he confessed. “You completely lost me at amplitudes.”

  “Oh, I don’t know,” she said, reaching up to take his lips. She let the kiss last, long, and slow, and deep, before pulling back and saying breathlessly, “I think you have a natural talent.”

  “Um, Akira?”

  Akira’s eyes widened and she stepped back from Zane. “Dillon? What are you doing here?”

  “Not looking,” Dillon responded, voice dry, as Zane’s eyebrows shot up. Akira nodded at Zane, confirming that yes, his 15-year-old ghostly nephew was in the room.

  She was grateful to be wearing her clothes—and that Dillon hadn’t shown up ten minutes earlier—as Zane, without rushing, grabbed his jeans and underwear and started dressing. “Nice timing, Dill,” he drawled. “I didn’t know you could reach my office.”

  “It took some effort,” Dillon said. “And it’s not comfortable. I feel like I’m being stretched like saltwater taffy. But it’s late.”

  “What’s he saying?” Zane asked, pulling on his t-shirt.

  Akira shook her head, not wanting to get into explanations. “We played pool for a while, and it’s getting late. I should go.”

  “Take Dillon home,” Zane suggested. “I’ll pick you up there and we can go out to dinner. In my car. And then we’ll figure out where we can pick up our physics lesson without interruption. I moved back in with my dad and Grace after my mom died, so how do you feel about—yeah, I thought not,” he finished, seeing her shaking her head before he’d made it through the question. No way was she sleeping with him in the same house as the CEO and Chairman of the Board of the company she worked for. Maybe they were his relatives, but they signed her paycheck. “Your house?”

  Akira thought for a moment. She still had a pleasant little rush of desire running through her. And she wanted to spend more time with Zane. Plus, if she started letting her ghostly companions limit her activities, where would she stop? She nodded. “I’ll have a little conversation with my, um, roommates, about boundaries and privacy first.”

  “Hey, I can’t exactly knock, you know,” Dillon answered as Zane grinned at her. “I got worried. I’m still worried,” he added pointedly.

  Akira gave him an exasperated look. They’d had this conversation over lunch. Dillon thought his uncle was going to break her heart. And even though he hadn’t said so, he was undoubtedly worried about the consequences for him if Zane did. But Akira wasn’t afraid. Her heart was tough, and her walls were thick. After a lifetime of keeping secrets and a few failed relationships, she knew better than to count on other people. Even other people who bought pool tables so that she’d play with them. “I’m fine,” she told him.

  “I’ve been watching a lot of television,” Dillon told her. “These things don’t end well.”

  “What’re you and Rose watching?” Akira asked. “Soap operas?”

  “It’s some show about housewives. People keep on dying. And relationships all end badly.”

  Akira smiled at him. She and Zane were just going to have a little fun: there would be nothing desperate about it.
Sarah Wynde's Novels