Chapter One
It all began with a murder.
I was convinced, in fact, that dad being killed had been the catalyst that set everything into motion.
After all, it was only after his death that I began seeing ghosts.
Tonight was one of those heavy, suffocating nights that seemed to close in around me. The weight of it was unbearable. And today, on the anniversary date of his murder, I did what I usually did—numbed the pain, and the ghosts, with alcohol.
“Hit me again, Greg,” I said, sliding my empty shot glass across the bar.
Greg turned to look at me while slinging a blue rag over his shoulder. His dirty blonde bangs hung over the left side of his face which he brushed away before responding. “You’ve had enough, Aimee. What is that now? Seven?”
I leaned forward, trying to close the distance between us. “I’ll tell you when I’ve had enough.”
He shook his head. “I mean it, Aimee. I’m cutting you off and calling you an Uber.”
“Uber schmuber. Get me another drink or I won’t finish that sweet little piece.”
His gaze flicked down to the half-finished sleeve of roses and skulls winding up his forearm. My handiwork, a project I’d started in exchange for the drinks, despite not quite being twenty-one yet. “Nice try, Aims,” he said, stacking glasses behind him. “But who’ll supply your booze if you don’t finish?”
“We both know I’m getting the short end of the stick here, Gregory.” I frowned, drumming my fingers on the marble countertop. “Don’t be a jerk. Get me a Sex on the Beach. You ever had sex on the beach, Greg?”
He rolled his eyes and walked away, ignoring my question.
“Me neither.” I mumbled.
That’s when I noticed him. A man slipped onto the barstool beside me, his presence commanding attention like a shadow falling over the room.
I tried to ignore him. But the scent of expensive cologne, coupled with a shiny leather jacket had me swiveling in my seat to see who it was.
It turned out to be a man with a jaw sharp enough to cut glass and kissable lips, the top one smaller than the bottom. His hair was a near shade of black, styled with a modern part and he was handsome in the way cologne commercial men were handsome.
“Not very fun,” he said, breaking the silence.
I gave him a sideways glance, raising an eyebrow. “What?”
“Sex on the beach,” he clarified, his voice smooth with a hint of an accent. “Sand everywhere.”
I snorted, despite myself. Of course, he’d know that.
“Can I buy you a drink?” He asked.
“I’m cut off,” I grumbled, eyeing Greg’s retreating back.
The stranger tapped the counter, catching Greg’s attention. “An espresso for the lady. Make it a double, with a dash of rum.”
I narrowed my eyes at him. “Trying to get me drunk?”
He smiled, a small, almost secretive smile. “No, I think you’ve got that part covered. This will sober you up, trust me. It’s a family recipe.”
His accent was more pronounced now, and I couldn’t help but wonder where he was from. Somewhere far from this nowhere town in Oregon, that much was certain.
“I’m Christian,” he said, extending his hand. I twirled one of my curls and bit my lip, debating if I should shake his hand. One of the unwanted side effects of whatever freak accident had happened to make me see ghosts, involved seeing people’s auras when I touched them.
And today, I wasn’t in the mood for any of it.
“Sorry, but I don’t go to church.” I told him.
Christian threw his head back and laughed.
He looked handsome when he did it. Charming, even.
And I bet he knew it.
“Are you always this funny, or is it just the alcohol talking?”
“Little bit of both.” I admitted with a shrug, though, truthfully it was mostly the latter.
“Here, drink this.” He handed me the mug Greg set in front of us and I took a long swig.
“That’s strong,” I said, making a face.
“C’mon,” Christian teased, “you downed those tequila shots without blinking, and you’re complaining about this?”
“You were watching me?”
He shrugged, a smirk playing on his lips. “A woman like you? Impossible not to.”
I rolled my eyes, unimpressed. “If you weren’t so handsome, that would be creepy. Pretty people get away with a lot.”
“Oh, so you think I’m handsome. And pretty?”
“Eh.”
He smirked and turned back to his drink, tipping back what looked like whiskey. The ice clinked as he set the glass down and glanced over at me.
“So, what’s driving you to drink like there’s no tomorrow? Someone break your heart or something?”
I shot him a cheeky grin. “I’d need to have one first.”
He chuckled, leaning in slightly. “Then what is it?”
“Dead dad,” I said with a casual shrug, as if it didn’t matter.
But it did.
It was everything.
He raised his glass, his eyes holding mine. “To your dead dad, then. Cheers.”
I stared at him, caught off guard by his bluntness, before finally clinking my glass against his.
I missed.
Which made him laugh again.
“Your family secret isn’t working.” I informed him, feeling more than a little tipsy still.
“Give it a minute,” he said, his eyes never leaving mine.
“Maybe I’ll just dance myself sober,” I mumbled, pushing away from the bar. The music pounded through the club, the bass vibrating in my chest like a second heartbeat. I turned to Christian, a sudden recklessness taking hold. “Wanna join?”
He didn’t hesitate, standing and holding out his hand. “Thought you’d never ask.”
When I took his hand, I felt a slight shift, something almost imperceptible but there. A shadow, maybe, or just a trick of the light. An illusion of his aura, muddled and chased away by my drunkenness…it was hard to focus on, so I let it go.
The dance floor was a blur of bodies and flashing lights which cast rainbows across his leather jacket.
And for the first time that night, the ghosts were silent.
I swayed to the music, my body pressing against his, and felt the solid line of his chest beneath my fingertips. The alcohol made everything hazy, but in a good way, like the world had softened around the edges, leaving just the two of us in sharp focus. All I could focus on was the heat of Christian’s hands on my hips, guiding me in time with the music. There was something intoxicating about the way he moved, the way he seemed careful not to pull me any closer.
So I closed the distance myself.
How could dancing feel so damn sexy? Maybe it was the alcohol, or maybe it was just him, his intoxicating scent and tousled hair that made my pulse race. Feeling a little looser than usual, and because what harm could come from letting, I scooted closer to him.
His hands burned tattoos into my skin, leaving a trail of heat wherever they touched. Or maybe it was just that I was burning up from the inside out.
With a teasing sway of my hips, I brushed against the front of his jeans, and I couldn’t help but notice the telltale response. It surprised me—and, I’ll admit, flattered me too. He went still for a moment. Too still.
Then, warm breath was at my ear.
“Now this just feels wrong,” he whispered, his breath warm against my skin. “Like I’m taking advantage of an innocent drunk girl.”
“There’s nothing innocent about me,” I whispered back, surprising myself with how true it felt.
Without warning, he spun me around to face him.
“Oh,” he said. “Is that so?”
My hands slipped up along his chest and around his shoulders.
I wanna take a ride on your disco stick, Lady Gaga said in the background.
And maybe that just what I needed to do tonight.
One-night stands weren’t usually my thing, but I found myself considering it. Maybe it was just what I needed to get over this crappy day.
Sex with a handsome stranger in a leather jacket. To take a ride on his disco stick.
His hands slid down my back, resting on either side of my hips as we danced. He was a decent dancer and a dirty, drunk part of me wanted to know how those moves would transfer into, well…sex.
“Why don’t you walk me to my apartment down the street?” I told him, one hand trailing down the center of his chest.
He drew in a breath, his eyes darkening as he looked down at me from his impressive height.
“Wouldn’t want an innocent girl like me being taken advantage of.”
“No, we wouldn’t want that,” He replied in a low, husky voice.
Before I knew it, I was tugging him through the pulse of the crowd, Christian’s hand warm and firm in mine. The music throbbed around us, a heartbeat I could almost feel in my bones. At the door, Rob, the security guard, gave me a knowing nod.
“See you tomorrow, Aimee,” he said, his voice a low rumble beneath the music. I flinched.
Christian raised an eyebrow, glancing sideways at me. “Tomorrow?”
I shrugged, forcing a smile. Tomorrow. Right. Because the only time the ghosts left me alone was when I ten times over the legal limit. But tonight wasn’t about that. Tonight, I just wanted to lose myself in the moment.
Suddenly, Christian yanked me back, his grip tightening as I stumbled into his solid chest. “Careful,” he murmured, his breath warm against my ear. “You almost walked into traffic.”
I blinked, realizing the street was just inches away, cars whipping by in a blur. “Oh,” I breathed, my heart racing. “Good thing I’ve got a knight in shining leather to save me.”
He chuckled, the sound low and intoxicating, vibrating through me as I pulled away.
“You’re a mess,” he said. “Let’s get you home and into bed.”
“But you haven’t even bought me dinner yet,” I teased, flashing him a playful smile.
“That’s not what I meant, darling,” he replied, his voice dropping to a lazy drawl that sent a shiver down my spine. The way he said “darling,” like his tongue was curling around each syllable, made my heart flip. I wondered what else that tongue could do…
My heels clicked against the pavement as I led him down the street, past the closed shops and darkened windows. We stopped in front of the corner building, the neon sign above my beloved tattoo parlor flashing “Inkked” in bright white letters.
I fumbled with my keys next door.
Christian’s hand was suddenly over mine, steadying me as he took the keys and unlocked the door with a smooth twist. His touch was gentle, almost tender, as he guided me inside and up the narrow staircase to my apartment which was rented to me kindly by Sin, the geriatric owner of Inkked.
When we reached my door, I spun to face him, the alcohol making me bold. “Come inside,” I whispered, catching my bottom lip between my teeth as I pushed the door open.
His eyes flicked over the room behind me before settling back on my face. “Maybe when you’re sober,” he said, his voice soft but firm, his fingers wrapping around my wrist as I reached for the buttons on his shirt. He took the subtlest step back. How sweet...I did not want sweet.
“I’m sober enough,” I insisted. I hooked a hand in his collar and tugged him inside.
My lips crashed onto his, drawing a sharp breath of surprise from him. We staggered together, but his arm shot out, bracing us against the wall, while his other hand found its way to my waist, holding me steady. He made to pull away, but I wasn’t having it. I cupped his face in my hands, pulling him back down, desperate to feel his mouth again.
A deep, primal groan rumbled from his chest as his fingers fisted into the fabric of my t-shirt, just above the small of my back. That sound did something to me, igniting a hunger I hadn’t known was there. When he kissed me this time, there was nothing gentle about it. His lips moved over mine with a wild intensity, taking control, dominating the kiss until I was breathless.
His hand slipped from my waist, trailing down my spine, until he reached my ass. He skimmed over it, teasingly, before gripping it, hard. I gasped against his mouth, my tongue darting out to trace the curve of his bottom lip, earning me another one of those maddening throaty groans. The sound shot through me, making my thighs clench with a desperate need for more.
I dug my fingernails into the front of his shirt then under the hem, grazing over the hard lines of his stomach. He was perfectly sculpted, all sinewy muscle and hot flesh. Honestly, I expected nothing less.
One of his palms landed on my thigh and the other tangled in my hair. He yanked back and I gasped, surprised by the savageness yet oddly turned on by it.
With my neck exposed and his hot breath against my skin, I caught his wrist and guided his hand up the edge of my leather skirt, pressing his palm against the bare skin of my thigh.
He went still for a second but his eyebrows shot up when he realized I wasn’t wearing any panties.
I was out of clean underwear, but he didn’t need to know that.
He wasn't moving. I pulled away to look at him. "Please." I breathed, fingers hooking into his waist band, pulling closer. He shut his eyes and muttered out a curse.
When his fingers skirted my inner thigh, I lost all sense of thought. All I could think about was how badly I wanted more. Needed more.
I succumbed to the sensation of his fingertips stroking along the junction between my legs.
My hands were anchors on his shoulders, my breathing growing more labored.
One thick finger dragged across my slit, painfully slow.
I writhed against his palm, hoping to get closer to that finger, to ease this delicious ache inside me. But Christian pulled back, his dark blue eyes, hooded with lust, meeting mine.
“I can stop,” He murmured, his hand going still.
“Do I look like I want you to stop?” I breathed, my chest rising and falling rapidly.
His gaze dropped down to my breasts, shoved so far up my chest from how tightly I was pressed against him, then back up to my eyes. Once he had me, right there, lost in his midnight blues, he slipped a finger inside me.
“Oh fuck,” I moaned.
It was a slow type of torture, one that left me trembling, leaning heavily against the wall.
He pushed in and pulled back out, his thumb rubbing circles into my clit as he went.
A thousand sensations burst through me but the most powerful in that moment was the pure, raw pleasure he was creating.
“Faster,” I gasped.
Obediently, his digit swept in and out of my wet center, quickening.
With his free hand, he lifted my other thigh, swinging it over the inner crease of his arm, giving him better access into me. In and out he went, his pace increasing, his fingers hooking just right, hitting a particularly sensitive spot inside me.
“Fuck!” I shouted.
“Christian,” He growled. “If you’re going to be yelling anything tonight,” his fingers sped up, delving in further. “It’s.” Deeper. “Going to be.” Faster. ”My name.”
The orgasm tore through my body, lights bursting behind my closed eyelids, a delicious pleasure sweeping me from head to toe. His body was the only thing holding me up as I shook and brook into so many pieces, I thought I might faint.
No, really, I was about to faint.
My head spun as the room tilted, and suddenly, my legs gave way. Before I could hit the floor, Christian’s arm shot out, catching me around the waist and pulling me back up against him. His breath was warm and sweet on my cheek.
“Now don’t go fainting on me, Aimee.”
“I was just testing your reflexes,” I mumbled, trying to sound nonchalant, but the way his chest rumbled with a sexy, low chuckle made my pulse race. I squeezed my thighs together, and nearly groaned. Out loud. I might have. I’m pretty sure I did.
“I’ll be better in a few minutes,” I added, my voice softer now, almost a whisper.
“Oh?” His lips were so close to mine, the air between us charged with tension, so close it felt like we were nearly kissing again. “And why is that?”
“I’ll be better once you give me more.”
“So greedy,” He breathed, and then his palms were releasing my hips.
I went in search of his mouth again, clawing at his shoulders, but he only swept my hair back behind my ears and chuckled.
“We should really save this for when you’re sober,” he said with a smile that was both gentle and maddening.
“No, but...” The words slurred embarrassingly, only further proving my intoxication to him. My eyes were unfocused, and the orgasm had left my thoughts scattered.
Then his warm breath was on the shell of my ear and I forgot how to breathe. “I’m a bad man, Aimee,” he whispered, his voice a dangerous caress. “I want you to remember I said that. But I don’t take advantage of pretty drunk girls.”
“I am not drunk.”
“No?” He pulled back slightly, his eyes locking onto mine with a knowing smirk. “Then what are you?”
“I’m… tired,” I mumbled, the fight draining out of me. I yanked my skirt back down and wobbled toward the bed, barely making it before I collapsed onto the pillow, exhausted.
“Kay, well…thanks for the orgasm,” I muttered, pulling the blanket over my shoulders as I felt his presence lingering at the foot of the bed.
His dark laugh washed over me, a sound that was both soothing and unsettling. “Goodnight, Aimee.”
“Buh-bye,” I mumbled, and then the world faded to black.
