Page 25 of Adored by the Grumpy Ghost (Mapletown Monster Mates #1)
That makes more sense. Deeply disappointing, but certainly the more rational explanation for the request. I do as I’m told, stripping down to my underwear before sliding in next to her.
She wraps herself around me, her leg thrown over mine, her cheek pressed against my bare chest, and her hand featherlight on my stomach.
She fits perfectly against me, her softness pressed against my hard edges.
“You feel so good.” Her voice is throaty and smooth as silk. It makes me wonder if this is how she’d sound while taking my cock. Being painfully hard while Natalie’s sick seems inappropriate, but when the tip of her tongue darts out to wet her lips, I have to suppress a moan.
“T-Thank you.” I clear my throat, shifting my body slightly to avoid my dick poking her hand.
She lifts her chin, and I meet her gaze. “Just so you know, Winston, you deserve to be on the other side of that door. I hope one day you’ll see that.”
Her words break something inside of me. A wall, a glacier, some kind of barrier that I didn’t even realize I had built, Natalie stormed right through it.
My heart swells at the faith she has in me.
I don’t feel worthy of it, but every cell that’s still part of me wants to become the kind of man she thinks I am.
I may have failed Susanna and Daniel, but I won’t fail Natalie.
She presses a kiss to my shoulder and nuzzles into the crook of my neck. I rub her back until she dozes off, checking the heat of her forehead occasionally to see if the fever has broken.
An hour passes, and she wakes. She says nothing, just stares at the ceiling. It goes on long enough that I grow concerned she isn’t actually awake. I didn’t expect to discover anything about Natalie that would be a turn-off, but sleeping with her eyes open? That might make the list.
“Natalie?” I whisper, hoping she’ll hear me and respond. “Are you awake?”
“Mm hm,” she replies, and my shoulders instantly feel lighter. Okay, so she’s not a creepy haunted doll. I’m relieved but still perplexed.
“Tell me what you’re thinking.”
She shrugs. “Mom and I moved around a lot when I was young. We once ended up in an apartment that had a skylight in my bedroom. When I can’t sleep, I always think about that place. That skylight. Being able to see the stars was such a comfort.”
“Really?” I’ve gazed at the stars many times but never found them to be particularly comforting or interesting. All I see is a bunch of blinking dots. “What do you like about it?”
Her reply is immediate. “The reliability. The way it makes my problems feel insignificant. Knowing that the stars will exist as long as I do, and long after.”
I never considered this before, but I understand it. She’s lost too much, so much that the most reliable presence in her life are the stars. Maybe I could be that steady presence in her life.
Or…an idea hits me.
With the way the house was designed, there’s nothing above this bedroom. The third floor only consists of three rooms, with the attic above that. I wonder how difficult it would be to install a skylight directly above the bed.
“Isn’t it boring for you?”
When I don’t reply, she purses her lips at me.
“Lying here with me, doing nothing.”
I put a hand behind my head. “Boredom isn’t something I experience.
There are times I’m impatient, but that’s obviously different.
When time is endless, there’s less pressure to fill it.
” It took time to adjust to this, around five years or so.
To resist the pull to be productive every moment of my existence.
Now, I can enjoy the freedom of choosing how to fill my time.
I’m able to appreciate the slow pace of the afterlife, especially with Natalie here.
Silently lying beside her may seem dull, but I like watching her chest rise and fall, and the small movements of her body when she’s fighting off a bad dream or trying to get more comfortable.
I could do it forever and not get bored.
She looks wistful. “That sounds really nice. I wish I had the ability to just live and not obsess over all the things I should be doing.”
I’m running my finger along the line of her jaw, savoring the softness of her skin.
“I can help you with that. It’s something I wish I had learned to do before I died.
” My finger travels down the length of her throat and reaches the top of her shoulder, where the elephant tattoo is peeking out from beneath the sleeve of her shirt.
“What’s the significance of this? The elephant. ”
She looks down at it, rolling up the sleeve and making the design entirely visible.
“Oh,” her chuckle is soft as blood rushes to her cheeks.
“It was a silly act of rebellion, I guess. I was made fun of for being a chubby kid. There was one kid in middle school who liked to call me ‘Nelephant.’ He’d draw pictures of me with a trunk and tusks, and he and his friends would make that trumpet sound whenever I walked by. Fuckers were relentless.”
I continue stroking her skin as she speaks, hoping my touch will keep her steady as she recalls these memories. Meanwhile, I’m fantasizing about throttling this boy she speaks of.
“Anyway, I started researching them, and I learned how intelligent and empathetic they are.”
“Elephants?”
She nods. “They experience grief and joy, and they can detect the scent of water from miles away.”
“Huh. I didn’t know that.”
“And their skin is extremely tough, but also sensitive.” She shrugs.
“I don’t know. The more I learned, the more I felt connected to them.
I started embracing them as a symbol, as a way to reclaim the word from my bullies and make it my own.
A way to eliminate the shame and turn it into something powerful.
” She lets out a long, deep yawn. “When I decided to get a tattoo, I didn’t want just one little design on my wrist or ankle.
I went from none to a half-sleeve, and I knew an elephant would be at the center of the design.
I found a tattoo artist nearby and…the rest is history. ”
“It’s beautiful.” My gaze follows the clean lines of the elephant’s ears, then to the petals of the many flowers surrounding them. “Will you add color to it?”
“I don’t think so. Sometimes I get the urge, but it looks exactly how I want it to look right now. Any changes to it could make it look worse, and I’m not willing to take that risk. Not with how expensive it was.”
“Even if you might end up liking it more with color?”
She shakes her head, confidence clear in the lift of her chin. “When the grass is already green, why would I look for a greener patch?”
We talk about the cost of tattoos and how addicting they can be until Natalie nods off.
At some point, deep into the night, her legs twitch, and she mumbles something that sounds like, “luffoo.” I assume it’s nonsensical sleep talk, and ignore it, but when it happens a second time, not ten minutes later, I wonder if she’s awake.
I look down, and her eyes blink open, but quickly fall closed once more.
I’m not convinced she’s fully conscious.
“Illuffoo,” she says again, her breath hot against my neck.
“Natalie,” I whisper, cupping her cheek, testing to see if she’s awake. “I can’t hear you, sweetheart.”
Her hand strokes down my arm, her fingers landing on my bicep. “Love you.”
Time stops. The world stops.
Did I…Did I imagine it? Or did Natalie truly just say that?
No, I know what I heard. That doesn’t mean she meant what she said, though. Her eyes aren’t even open anymore.
It meant nothing.
But what if she did mean it? What if she does love me, and the feeling is so consuming, so deep that the words slipped past her lips while unconscious?
The possibility of that doesn’t scare me. It doesn’t bother me in the slightest. In fact, I want nothing more than for it to be true. Because I love her too. Of course, I do.
I’m not sure when it happened, but at some point, this curvaceous, clumsy crumb-dropper became the center of my universe. I’m completely fucking gone for her.