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It takes a few seconds for the call to connect. “Hello, Club M, how can I help you?”
“Uh, hi. I was wondering if you still offer self-defence classes for women?” I ask the girl on the other end of the line.
“Yes, we sure do. Wednesdays, Fridays, and Sundays. We have 7 a.m. and 7 p.m. classes available,” she says.
“Perfect, what do I need to do to enrol?”
“Nothing, just show up for your class of choice, fill out the forms for membership, and you’re good to go.”
“Okay. Got it. Thank you.” I hang up and write down the days and times she mentioned.
It’s Thursday, so I could get up early tomorrow and sign up for the morning class. I’m not usually a morning person, but lately I haven’t liked being out at night either. Unless it’s the library. I come here to escape the solitude of my apartment.
I unpack the textbooks from my bag and stack them on the table. It’s quiet tonight. Usually, there are at least a dozen people on this floor. Right now, I’m the only one here. Maybe there’s a party I don’t know about going on somewhere?
Plugging in my earbuds, I turn on my playlist and begin reviewing my study notes. Two hours later, I’m tilting my head from side to side, trying to ease the strain on my neck. My eyes are blurry, and I can’t even make out the words I’m looking at anymore. So I decide it’s time to gather up my belongings, pack my bag, and leave for the night.
I practically run to my car, unlocking it before I quickly climb inside and lock the doors again. Then I shake out my trembling hands and push the button on the dashboard to start the engine. I really,reallyneed to get over this.
I consider going to Shar’s house. I know she’d let me crash on her sofa—although she’d have a million questions for me if I did that. I don’t want to admit to everyone that I’m fucking scared of something I more than likely made up in my head. So, instead, I drive to my apartment, park in the garage, and walk over to the bank of elevators while scanning my surroundings. I count the seconds it takes for the elevator doors to open. The ping announces its arrival before I press my thumb to the panel on the inside, and the car starts its climb up to the penthouse.
As soon as I enter my apartment, I turn on every light, open every cabinet and every door, and even check under the bed. There’s no one here. My bag falls to the ground next to my bed and I kick off my shoes before plopping down on the mattress. I just need to close my eyes for a minute, then I’ll get up and change out of my clothes.
My eyelids grow heavier by the second. Until I jolt awake, my room now pitch black. I reach over to the bedside table and pull the cord to turn on the lamp. As soon as my eyes adjust to the light, I push off the bed and look around. Nothing appears to have moved, but there’s a lingering scent of cinnamon and whiskey—I know that scent well. It’s my brother’s drink of choice. Maybe Xavier dropped by to check on me? I’ll have to ring him and tell him to stop turning out my lights.
I shake my head and walk into the kitchen—at least everything is still on out here—then pour myself a glass of water and make my way back to my bedroom. As I pass through the hallway, I swear I can smell it again. That scent, and it’s definitely male.
Do ghosts have a smell?
And if the answer is yes, why does this one have to smell so damn delicious. I want to cover myself in it, curl up, and fall asleep with that scent wrapped around me.
I set my cup on the bedside table and pull my shirt over my head, undoing the button and zip on my jeans, and quickly slide them off. I climb into the bed, reach behind me, and unhook my bra, discarding it on the floor. Then I pull the blankets to my chin and close my eyes again. Hopefully I can get a few more hours of sleep before I have to be at the gym in the morning.
THREE
I reach into my pants and pull out my cock. I usually refrain from doing this while I watch her sleep, but tonight I fucking need it. I need her. Standing at the foot of her bed, my eyes glued to her sleeping form, I tug at my cock a few times.
She’s so innocent, so fucking vulnerable.
Her lips part slightly, and I imagine sliding my cock between them. Can almost envision what her wet little mouth would feel like sucking me in. I pull harder, faster, as I picture her choking, her tear-stained cheeks, her fear as I ram my cock so far down her throat she can’t do anything but silently plead for me to let her breathe again.
“Fuck!” I hiss under my breath.
I reach out with my other hand and gently pull the blankets down, just a little, enough to reveal the curves of her breasts as they fall free from the confines of her bedsheets. Her rosy-pink nipples are hard, and my mouth waters at the idea of wrapping around them. I can imagine licking, biting, sucking. I want to yank the blankets down farther. I want a better look. To get a glimpse of more of her. I don’t do that though.
You see? I havesomerestraint.
Instead, I walk around to the side of her bed and pick up the pale-blue silk bra she discarded. I wrap the soft fabric around my cock as I continue to pump myself. When she lets out a little moan, a gasp, I come hard. All over her bra. Fuck. Then I tilt my head and look at her.
What the fuck is she dreaming about? Or, better yet,whothe fuck is she dreaming about? Because, whoever they are, they’re fucking dead.
I zip up my jeans and shove her bra into my pocket. It’s not the first I’ve stolen from her. Reaching down, I tug the blankets over her chest, lean forward, and inhale the scent of her hair. Fucking vanilla. Always vanilla.
My lips burn to touch her skin, so I pull away before I can’t stop myself. I straighten my spine, turn around, and walk out, switching her light off as I go before I make my way to the staff elevator I use to get up here. It’s funny how it’s also the one place she never checks.
* * *
“What are you doing here?”Uncle Bray asks the moment he walks into the office of his gym.
