How To Bring Your Love Life Back From The Dead by Wendy Sparrow Read Free Book Online Page B

someone who’d just had a snow cone.
    A deep chuckle brought it all
crashing down. Ana’s eyes flew open.
    “Well, hello, little mouse,” the
ghost said from above her.
    Ana swallowed. There was a
dark-haired ghost right here…with her, and she was pretty sure he’d
been kissing her. Were ghosts allowed to do that? Her eyes were as
wide as she could make them—but…this was impossible.
    Clearing her throat, she said, “I’m
sorry, but…uhh…I don’t believe in ghosts.” There. They might as
well get that out there right now.
    His mouth twitched, and he leaned
back against the bookcase. “Indeed? Well, you’ve wounded me to the
quick then, because I’ve always assumed I existed.”
    Now that he wasn’t bending over her,
Ana sat up. “Yes.” She coughed at the dust in the air and brushed
her red curls back from her face. “I mean, no. No, I’m sorry, but
you don’t exist.”
    “How inconvenient,” he said,
propping an arm on one of his knees. “I felt like I existed just a
moment ago.” He leaned forward, focusing his intense dark eyes on
her face. “You’re sure?”
    His body was see-through as if she
was seeing someone in the distance in the fog. If she had to guess,
his eyes were probably brown…as was his hair. Not that it mattered
because he didn’t exist. Likewise it didn’t matter that his lanky
build and arrogance were making her breathe a bit faster. Damn her
fascination with bad boys. This is what came of being repressed.
You fantasized about sarcastic ghosts who wore old-fashioned
clothing including pants that were far too tightly-fitted. Her
imagination was disturbing and possibly unrealistic.
    “I’m sure.” She furtively pinched
her arm. Nope. She was awake. Fantasy it was.
    His smile was immediate and wicked.
It was the smile of a scoundrel. Crap. Just the kind of guy she
liked—which led, of course, to heartache. Deep, soul-wrenching
heartache, and a guy conning you out of a hundred thousand dollars
of inheritance.
    “So, I don’t exist, little
mouse?”
    “I’m not that little,” she said,
putting her hands on her hips. “I’m five foot six.”
    “You weigh less than some dogs,
though, I’d warrant.”
    Ana’s eyes narrowed. “Did you just
compare me to a dog?”
    “Favorably, though.” His lips
twitched in a repressed smile.
    “Oh really?”
    He moved to his hands and knees,
approaching her, and said, “So, if I don’t exist, then I certainly
can’t do this.” He kissed her again, sliding one hand around her
waist and the other hand to cup her cheek.
    “No,” she agreed before she opened
her mouth to his.
    Ana might have assumed that kissing
someone so cold would be unpleasant but, then again, she liked ice
cream and this was sweet and cold and…he’d just slid his hand to
cup her butt.
    Were imaginary ghosts allowed to do
that?
    Apparently so.
    She lay back as he stretched over
her. How strange…there was the pressure of weight against her, but
no actual substance. It was as if the air was heavy and so, so
sexy. His mouth broke away and traveled down to kiss her neck as
his hand pulled her shirt aside to expose her collarbone and
shoulder to his cold lips.
    Oh, she was repressed. She was good
and repressed if she was imagining this. She was mental. She should
be in therapy. But, wow, it felt good. It figured only a fantasy
man would get her torn up inside with want.
    “I don’t know how far I can go, but
you may want to make your wishes known.” His lips brushed her skin
with each word. So cold. So hot. Her bones were melting.
    “I like what you’re doing right
now,” Ana said, closing her eyes and arching slightly. Mmm. Really
liked it.
    He chuckled against her skin. “I
meant that I haven’t had a woman in nigh on a century, and I want
to lie with you and bury myself in your heat.”
    Ana’s eyes snapped open. “Can you do
that?”
    “I have no idea, but I’m certainly
willing to try.”
    Analise scrambled from beneath him
and was shocked