Haunted

“Wren, you’re crying.” His drawl was so soft and tender it only made me cry harder.

And then suddenly, he crushed me against him and I became achingly aware of the feel of his ethereal body pressed against mine from head to toe. With his free hand, he lifted my chin so that I looked up into his eyes and then he brushed one of my tears away with the pad of his thumb. Closing my eyes, I turned my face more fully into his palm, relishing the all encompassing feel of this dangerous intimacy.

I wanted to wrap my arms around his waist and lay my head on his shoulder but fear and uncertainty consumed me and I resisted.

His breath fanned my cheeks as he studied my expression, and I intuitively knew he debated whether he should release me or…kiss me.

My heart skidded.

This close, I could see the slight misshapen crook of the bridge of his nose. I’d never noticed that before. This close, I could see his wealth of black lashes, the sharp slash of his high cheekbones and the soft pout of his bottom lip, which was a tiny bit fuller than his top lip. My gaze lingered on his mouth and I hoped for a heart-stopping moment that he would take that next step and kiss me.

Instead, he gently set me away from him. “I apologize.”

Thick disappointment seeped through my insides. I thought I was going to have to kick myself in order to unscramble my brain. “For-for what?” I stammered.

“I took liberties I should not have taken,” he whispered.

Of all times, why did he play the southern gentleman card now?

The rain had let up and gently pattered the tin roof. Thunder rumbled, low and soft, like a whisper in the darkness. Above all, I knew some new intimacy had just formed between Jeremiah and me that sparked a sense of promise in my heart.

As disappointed as I had been that he had not kissed me, I understood the need to move forward slowly. Even though I wanted there to be more between us, I wasn’t sure if I was ready for it.

After all, he was a ghost.