Page 16

I can see him.

Well, hardly.

But even in the low light, he’s unfairly stunning.

Strong, sharp jaw and high cheekbones that any model would kill for.

His dark hair is slightly messy, like he just ran a hand through it, but unruly locks still fall over his forehead.

And his hunter eyes, so dark I can’t quite tell where his pupil ends and iris begins, framed by full, slightly arched brows.

He’s beautiful and intense in a way that makes my breath catch.

Also, he’s shirtless.

Which is… distracting.

Because he’s ripped. Muscular but lean, big arms, abs carved, with ink covering most of his skin. He’s only wearing gray sweatpants, hanging dangerously low on his hips.

I blink. My brain ceases to function. “Umm… I couldn’t sleep.”

“Hm. Enjoying the view at least?” His voice is just as deep as ever, but there’s a smirk playing on his lips now.

I snap out of it. Barely. “I—” I fold my arms, trying to look unimpressed despite the betrayal of my heartbeat. “I thought you slept with your mask on.”

He chuckles low. “Only in front of the camera.”

I swallow hard. I don’t trust myself to look at his stomach again, so I focus on his face—which, ironically, isn’t much safer.

“So, what’s going on? Why are you up, Bun-bun?”

“I thought I heard something outside,” I admit, my stomach tightens at the mere memory. “You?”

He shrugs. “I was just grabbing some water.”

Somehow, I have a hard time believing him. I don’t know, something about this place makes me paranoid. Or maybe I have been this way for a while. I’m not sure if I’ll ever be the same after Alaska…

“I don’t think we should go into the woods tomorrow,” I spurt out.

Ghost tilts his head, watching me in that quiet, unreadable way that makes my skin prickle. “You’re overthinking,” he finally murmurs, stepping closer. “Do you want me to take your mind off of it?”

I take a step back, but he catches my arm before I can fully retreat. His grip isn’t rough, but it’s firm, his thumb brushing against the inside of my wrist, right over my spiking pulse.

My breath stutters. “Ghost,” I start, but before I can finish, he’s already tugging me forward.

I should pull away. I should tell him to stop being so— so Ghost —but I surrender. He draws me against his chest, his large hands gripping my waist as he lifts me, and my legs circle his hips instinctively.

He’s warm. Too warm.

He carries me like I weigh nothing, arms tight around me as he crosses the hallway’s creaky hardwood floor. My heart’s still hammering from that sound outside—that low, dragging scrape—but being against him soothes the edge of my panic, just a little.

His bedroom door shuts behind us with a low click, and the lock slides into place. “No more creepy noises,” he murmurs into my ear, his voice a warm rasp. “Just us now.”

His palm slides up my back, onto the back of my neck, his thumb caressing the curve of my jaw below my ear. His eyes bore into mine, and he doesn’t have to say anything—they tell me all I need to know.

Nobody has ever looked at me the way he does.

Nobody has ever made me feel this wanted.

I lean in, just barely, but it’s enough of a green light for him.

Then, he kisses me.

Ghost Daddy kisses me.

Slow at first—just the ghost of lips against mine, teasing, testing—then deeper, hungrier, like he’s pulling the fear out of me and swallowing it whole.

He tastes like mint with just a hint of our homemade Moscow Mule from earlier, sharp and intoxicating, and I melt into him before I can stop myself.

He’s trying to make me forget. Maybe I want to.

His tongue claims mine, possessive and slick, and I moan into his mouth as he lowers me onto the unmade bed.

The mattress groans beneath my back as he leans over me, caging me in.

The scent of him—smoke and leather and something darker—wraps around me, thick as a shroud.

His hands find the hem of my tank top, long fingers dragging against my ribs as he pushes it up, baring my chest to his hungry stare.

“Fuck, Bunny,” he mutters, more like a prayer than a curse, voice rough enough to send a shiver down my spine.

His large palms cup my breasts, thumbs brushing over my nipples, already tight with anticipation. The cool air of the room licks at my exposed skin, but it’s nothing compared to the heat of his mouth when it closes over me—hot, wet, sucking hard enough to make my toes curl.

My breath stutters as his tongue circles my nipple, licking, then flicking, just enough pressure to make my back arch and a whimper catch in my throat. The sharp edge of his teeth grazes the sensitive peak, and I gasp, fingers tightening in his full, soft hair.

“You’re so perfect,” he rasps, kissing his way to my other breast, giving it the same devastating attention. His heavy stubble scrapes against my sensitive skin, causing a delicious friction that leaves me trembling.

“Oh, Ghost!” I moan when his teeth gently tug at me, the sharpness toeing the line between pleasure and pain.

He bites down harder, just shy of too much. “Try again.”

A shudder runs through me. “Daddy…”

“That’s my girl.” His lips curl in a smirk before he returns to sucking, tongue working in slow, torturous circles.

Simultaneously, his hands grip my thighs, fingers digging in with just enough roughness to make me squirm.

I gasp as he yanks me to the edge of the bed, the sudden movement sending a jolt through me.

He drops to his knees, the floorboards creaking under his weight, and his lips follow the path down my stomach, leaving a trail of fire in their wake.

His fingers hook under the waistband of my sleep shorts, tugging them down my legs—slow, teasing, like he’s unwrapping a present he plans to ruin.

Then he parts my knees, sliding in closer, the heat of his breath brushing against my inner thighs. My pulse thrums between my legs, already aching for him.

“Look at you,” he says, voice thick with need, and my walls clench in response. “Already so fucking wet.”

I writhe underneath his wolfish stare, my heart hammering so hard I’m sure he can hear it.

The air between us is charged, thick with the scent of my arousal and the musk of his cologne.

I’ve been dreaming about this moment for so long, fantasizing about his hands, his mouth, the way he could unravel me with just a look.

Now that he’s here, I can hardly control the desire coiling tight in my belly.

“How many times did you play with yourself thinking of me since Valentine’s?” His voice is a low, taunting purr. He says it so confidently, like he knows the truth. Maybe he’s that cocky… or maybe I’m that easy to read

“Ugh! Zero times!” I try to kick him, but he catches my leg effortlessly, pinning it to the bed with that infuriating little chuckle.

“Liar.” His free hand slides up my thigh, fingers parting my slick folds with deliberate slowness. “Mmmm, this pretty little pussy knows who owns it.”

Before I can retort, he leans in and licks a long stripe, tongue wide and slow, and oh God—I feel the cold glint of his piercing drag over the most sensitive part of me. The shock of it—smooth metal against overheated flesh—makes my hips jerk, a whimper escaping before I can stop it.

“You like that?” he asks, voice dripping with smug satisfaction.

Then he does it again, the piercing teasing my clit in slow, maddening circles.

“You’re shaking. Is that from me, or are you still scared?

” He doesn’t wait for an answer, sealing his mouth over me.

“Doesn’t matter,” he murmurs against my tender flesh, the vibrations sending another wave of pleasure through me.

“Daddy’s going to make it all better, baby.

” And then he sucks hard enough to make stars burst behind my eyelids.

A broken moan tears from my throat as my fingers fist in the sheets, and I toss my head back. My hazed eyes catch the slightest shadow, blocking the moonlight.

Wait—moonlight?

The blinds are open.

And something’s there.

A tall, hunched figure, not moving, just watching.

A choked gasp catches in my throat. I bolt upright, blood running cold, fingers tangling in Ghost’s hair. “St—stop. There’s—someone’s at the window!”

He groans in protest, not letting go, mouthing me even harder, the bastard. “Bunny,” he says between licks, “we’re on the second floor. Nobody’s out there. It’s impossible.”

“Something is!” I whine, yanking at his hair. “We were told to close the blinds. You’ve heard everyone! Why didn’t you listen?”

He finally lifts his face. For a split second, I swear I see a strange glint in his eyes. Then he asks, voice ice-cold, “Well, why did you look?”

I shake my head, nudging him. “Uh, stop messing with me!”

He sighs—long, annoyed, like I’m the one being ridiculous—and gets up, adjusting himself with a quiet curse as he stalks to the window. He doesn’t even look out before grabbing the cord and yanking the blinds shut in a rattling snap.

“There,” he says, turning back to me. Even in the complete darkness, I notice his smirk returning. “Window’s closed. Mystery perv is gone.”

I’m still jittering, heart thudding loudly in my chest. I want to keep looking at the window, even with the blinds shut, because I felt it. The watching. It’s still there, even if I can’t see it now.

But then he kneels between my legs again, licking his lips.

“Just relax for me, Princess. You’re creeping yourself out for no reason.

” He drags his tongue across the slit of my pussy.

“You taste even better when you’re scared,” he hums, eyes locked to mine, his voice low and dark. “Maybe I should want you terrified.”

And when his mouth returns to me—more relentless, more consuming—I can’t tell if the thing I see in the window when I blink is a trick of memory or still there, pressing its shadowed face against the glass.