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“Those silver disc things are DVDs,” I whisper as I scoot close to Edward. I glance over my shoulder to make sure that Dad’s still asleep. “That’s what we used to use to store moving pictures before we got Netflix.”
“Fascinating,” Edward says in a tone that implies anything but. He flicks a DVD through his fingers, and it rolls across the rug. Entwhistle bounds after it and bats it under the sofa.
“Pax and Ambrose have left with Morrie,” I whisper. “What shall we do with our evening?”
“I can think of a few things…” Edward whispers in my ear.
“We have to be quiet,” I whisper back. “My parents—”
“I’m not the one who’s going to scream.”
“You talk a big game, Mr. Poet Prince, but when I wrap my lips around your—”
“Did you say something, Bree-bug?”
I whirl around, my cheeks reddening as Dad sits up and rubs his eyes. Moon topples off his stomach and darts behind the curtains.
I let out a huge fake yawn. “Just that I’m really tired. I think I’ll go to bed.”
Dad looks at his watch. “It’s only seven-thirty!”
“I know, but it’s been a…” I search for the right word. “…stressful day. Besides, you will probably want to start moving furniture early in the morning, and you know how grumpy I get if I don’t have my model’s twelve.”
“Sure, honey.” Dad’s eyes search my face. “But I thought maybe we could hang out. If not tonight, then another night, okay? I want to hear about your travels, and about these interesting friends you’ve made.”
“I’d love that…”Just not when a royal prince is whispering filthy things in my ear, and his hand is roaming along the curve of my ass.“Another night, okay?”
“Okay.” Dad swings his feet off the sofa. Edward lets me go, but he doesn’t quite move out of the way in time, and when Dad goes to hug me, he swings his arm through Edward’s neck. Edward collapses on the floor, howling with pain, and it’s all I can do to keep a straight face while Dad’s hugging me.
“Goodnight, Dad.”
“I love you, Bree-bug.” Dad kisses my forehead.
“I used to think you were okay, for a commoner, but that was before you put your elbow through my neck.” Edward rubs the bare skin inside his open collar as he gets to his feet. His dark hair falls back from his face, and I catch a glimpse of the mark on his neck – a pale bruise that’s always been there. I hate thinking that’s from someone holding him, pushing him out a window.
I follow Edward outside, swinging the door shut behind me.
The moment the lounge door closes, Edward’s lips are on mine.Yes,my mind screams, and I forget that if my mum decides to walk by, all she’ll see is my mouth open and my eyes closed as I snog thin air.
But Edward isn’t invisible, isn’t nothing. Everything about Edward is real to me – his hands cup my cheeks like I’m something precious he must handle carefully, his dark eyes boring down on me – not closed, never closed, because Edward likes to see everything. The press of his desire against my thigh, so hard that it feels impossible that this time a ghost and Living couldn’t…
Edward lowers one hand to the small of my back and guides me backwards down the hall as his tongue lays claim to every recess of my mouth. My breath catches as my hands roam over his chest and back, tracing the tight cords of muscle. The pulsing heat of his ghostly aura radiates against my skin.
It’s so much, he’s so much, and yet I’ll never have enough of him.
I can’t believe that we get to be together, two people whose lives should never, ever have crossed, who come from different worlds and different times, and yet I get to kiss him and touch him and lo—
I pull myself back into the moment before I can think of the next word. I’m not ready to go there yet.
Edward’s ghostly fingers cup my breast, his thumb circling my nipple until it hardens into a peak. I gasp against his mouth. He swallows my cry so that my father can’t hear it.
We’d better take this to my room.
Somehow, we manage to make it down the stairs without tripping. One of the stern great-relatives I never met stares out at me from her photograph as we stumble past, and I swear I see out of the corner of my eye her wink at us. We crash through the door of my bedroom. Edward kicks the door shut behind him, and the whole wall reverberates as it slams behind him.
Now that we’re alone and safe from my parents, Edward’s eyes grow dark and determined. His fingers slide from my cheek around to the back of my head, tumbling through the strands, sometimes gripping me, sometimes movingthroughmy hair. It’s a strange and wonderful thing, making out with a ghost. You don’t know when the moldavite’s power will slip for a moment, or when they’re no longer strong enough to touch you.
His other fingers keep working my nipples, pinching and rolling first one, then the other, until I’m gasping and moving against him, desperate for more.
