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Another sob rips from my throat as I recall his fevered promises.
That’s the start of our family, he’d said.
I’m going to make you so fucking happy, kitten.
“You promised!” My yell reverberates in the shower cubicle as I slam my hand against the wall. “You promised, Monroe. And you’re breaking your promise.”
Bracing both hands against the wall, I let the tears run free, sobbing my eyes out until I’m drained.
Until my knees are weak and my soul is empty.
I crumple to the floor of the shower, hiccuping as the water turns freezing. Only the need to protect the seed growing inside me by not getting sick makes me wrench the faucet off.
My whole body shakes with fatigue and misery as I pluck the towel off the peg and wrap it around myself, thoughts of spending another minute, another day not knowing where he is pressing down on me and sparking fresh tears.
I grab a smaller towel to dry my hair but my arm barely rises halfway before I bury my face in it, groaning miserably as despair rips me into smaller shreds. “Please.” The desperate call to the universe sounds pathetic, but I can’t help it. “I’ll do anything. Just…I can’t live without him.”
“You never will, baby. I promise—Oh Jesus, are you crying, sweet girl?”
My sob turns into a loud gasp as I drop the towel and veer toward the deep, low voice.
I blink once. Twice.
The man filling my doorway, dressed from head to toe in black, his eyes rushing feverishly over my body before latching onto my face, has to be a ghost.
He has to be.
Have I cried myself into a trance?
Is my desperate brain conjuring up Monroe to keep me safe, or have I slid fully into insanity?
His breathing is labored, frantic as he prowls across the small space to where I’m frozen in place.
“You’re not…are you…” I can’t ask because I’m too terrified the universe is punishing me. “Please,” I beg one more time. Then I squeeze my eyes shut.
“Open your eyes, Kitty. I’m real,” the hot ghost says hoarsely.
I shake my head. “No. I’m…scared.”
Footsteps move closer.
Do ghosts walk? Do they smell so gloriously like the man I love?
Is he?—?
“I’m going to take you in my arms now, beautiful. They’ve been empty for too fucking long for me to wait. Then I need you to open those gorgeous eyes and see that I’m real. Okay?”
Tears squeeze between my eyelids as I nod, another shiver coursing through my shocked and yearning body.
Strong arms wrap around me.
Warmth. Hard body. His smell.
Oh God, he smells so good.
The scent of light sweat and warm skin, but layered with new ones. Leather. Cologne. Man. My man.
I burrow deeper into his arms, rubbing my cheek over deep pecs that feel wonderfully familiar, while I pray that if this is a hallucination, it never ends.
