Page 12 of Haunted Desires
“The ghosts make some people nervous.”
She watches me for a beat, probably to see if I’m joking. Is that a blush on her cheeks? Her lips part just slightly as if she’s wanting to say something but she doesn’t. The flickering candlelight makes it hard to see, but that blush is as evident as it is beautiful.
My face is hot, too. I’ve never spoken to anyone about the spirits here. Over the years I’ve learned some souls simply don’t believe in ghosts. So I keep it to myself. But this is something I could share with her. I’m sure of it.
I don’t know what’s happening to me. Suddenly it seems important for her to know the depths of my knowledge, too. I know she reads about a coven long ago. She spends hours nearly every night craving their tales and to know what’s real. I’ve felt the spirits here and I know they’re not some trick of my mind. I know it’s all real—the magic and the spells and the ghosts.
“This place is haunted.” Hazel states although her tone makes it sound like a question. She’s confirming it for herself. She must have sensed it, and why wouldn’t she have? She’s been looking into the supernatural truth of this town for years. I merely nod and she answers, “I knew it.”
My lips kick up into a smirk.
Hazel holds the book closer to her chest, her eyes fluttering closed.
I want to kiss her so much. I’ve never felt such a pull to another.
“Maybe you’re not in the mood,” Hazel says to the book, her voice soft. She lays it aside. “Next one?”
I almost forgot about the spell altogether. “Go ahead.”
She never gives up hope. Touching one book after the other. Holding them, reading the first page or flipping through the pages.
By the time she gets to the last one, my head is spinning with disappointment.
I needed this to work. I needed to show her what I did. I needed to impress her, so she knows I?—
My thoughts cut out.
Hazel gently places the last book on top of the stack she made, and I can see her prepare to tell me ‘it’s fine’.
It’s not fine, but I’d almost believe it, coming from her.
“Have you eaten?” I ask, before she can say a word.
“I haven’t,” she says, running her fingers through her hair.
“Then it’s time for a picnic.” Quickly, I grab two bags that I stowed to the side. They’re not as aesthetically pleasing as a wicker basket would be, but wicker baskets don’t keep cold food cold and hot food hot. These thermal bags do.
Hazel scoots closer as I set out the plastic containers. It’s mostly finger foods that go with wine—cheese, apple slides, crackers, and sliced meats—but also imported chocolates and speciality spreads. A bit upscale. I also pull out melted chocolate, to dip.
“Oh my god,” Hazel breathes. “How did you get it to stay melted?”
“A spell that actually works,” I tell her with a wink. There is a spell on the container, but I don’t expect her to believe me when the spell on the books completely failed. “And,” I say, pulling out the mug warmer I keep on my desk. “A mug warmer as backup.”
Her eyes light up with her smile. “I love those things. I keep one behind the counter at the shop. It’s the only thing that keeps me going when?—”
“When it’s below zero,” I finish with her.
Hazel laughs. “You get me.”
“I do.” I move closer on the blanket so our knees are touching. “There are things I’d enjoy getting to know about you though.”
“Is that right?” she asks beneath her breath. It’s impossible to miss the desire in her eyes.
I set the mug warmer and chocolate at my side and open a container of strawberries. Then I hold one up in front of her so she can see it.
Hazel watches, her eyes sparkling.
I dip the strawberry into the chocolate, then take her chin in my left hand. Her skin is warm and when she parts her lips, my cock hardens.
