mind loss, mind bending, and mind blowing going on,” he said. “But I wanted to make sure you were with me. I’m not alone feeling this . . . this . . . instant and overwhelming . . . draw, pull—”
“Magnetic attraction?” she suggested.
“Exactly. I needed to be sure you were aware and on the same page as I am. Getting hit upside the head with an industrial-sized magnet is rarely mutual and often harmful.”
“Oh, it’s mutual.” Just to prove it, and because she wanted to, Harmony slipped her hands beneath his shirt, appreciating the increased pace of his heart and the catch in his breath. His skin and its nap of chest hair were softer than his shirt, the silkiest she’d ever run her fingers through—Egyptian-cotton soft—and so hot it should come with a warning label. Warning: Might Cause a Fiery Swell of Orgasmic Insanity.
Paxton’s sigh turned her to liquid honey as she resumed her tactile exploration and regularly scheduled sexcathalon—a gold-medal hands-and-mouth competition, fired by endurance and determination—a race they both wanted to win.
He slid both his hands down her back to cup her bottom and pull her up into his arms. Instinctively, she wound her legs around him, and he turned them so he leaned on the wall and slid them down to the floor, where she straddled him.
“I don’t care why the lights went out,” he said, “this is absolutely—”
Harmony fingered his man nips to hard little pebbles so he stopped talking. “It is amazing, but haven’t you figured Gussie out by now?”
“Gussie?”
“Every time you deny her existence, she does something to prove she’s here.”
Chuckling, Paxton slid his hands beneath her shirt and stopped. “What do you have between your breasts? It feels like a . . . pouch.”
“It’s a sachet of perfumed herbs,” she said, telling the truth.
He unhooked her bra in half a beat. “You know,” he said. “If the ghost does exist, this is the nicest thing she’s ever done for me. I’ve never been happier about anyth—”
The lights came on with a flash that half blinded them, and with the light came clarity of mind.
They couldn’t look each other in the eye, but they retrieved their hands so fast, their fingers tangled. A second later, Harmony stood to dust herself off and give Paxton time to stand and lose his boner. The locks clicked, eight in a row. “The doors are open,” she said.
“If the ghost exists,” Paxton said, turning her way, “she’s a mean old bat.” He shouted as if in pain, lurched, and knocked her on the floor.
“Hey!” she snapped.
“Sorry.” Paxton bent to give her a hand up, but straightened with a shout, before he could.
“Did you throw your back out?” Harmony rose on her own, watching Paxton turn to look behind him, and as he did, she saw the cause of his discomfort. A huge honking splinter, and not just any splinter.
One life-sized toy soldier’s rifle was missing its bayonet.
“What is it?” Paxton asked, trying without success to see his own backside.
“I really hate to tell you this, but you’ve been shot in the ass by a wooden soldier.”
----
Chapter Eight
“A toy soldier? That’s impossible,” Paxton snapped.
“No. That’s Gussie trying to prove she’s here.” Harmony walked around him, assessing the damage. “You know, judging by its placement, if you hadn’t turned to me when you did, she might have shot you in your man brain.”
Paxton paled, and Harmony put her arm around him. “Is there a nurse on the construction site?”
“There’s a first aid kit. Curt usually takes care of scrapes and bruises, but I’ll be damned if I want him knowing about this.”
“Too embarrassing?”
“Too close to feeding your ghost stories. I don’t want a mutiny, however close I got to abandoning ship for a weird spell there.”
“You gonna yank that bayonet out of your butt yourself, or are you gonna walk around like that and refuse treatment like a real
“Magnetic attraction?” she suggested.
“Exactly. I needed to be sure you were aware and on the same page as I am. Getting hit upside the head with an industrial-sized magnet is rarely mutual and often harmful.”
“Oh, it’s mutual.” Just to prove it, and because she wanted to, Harmony slipped her hands beneath his shirt, appreciating the increased pace of his heart and the catch in his breath. His skin and its nap of chest hair were softer than his shirt, the silkiest she’d ever run her fingers through—Egyptian-cotton soft—and so hot it should come with a warning label. Warning: Might Cause a Fiery Swell of Orgasmic Insanity.
Paxton’s sigh turned her to liquid honey as she resumed her tactile exploration and regularly scheduled sexcathalon—a gold-medal hands-and-mouth competition, fired by endurance and determination—a race they both wanted to win.
He slid both his hands down her back to cup her bottom and pull her up into his arms. Instinctively, she wound her legs around him, and he turned them so he leaned on the wall and slid them down to the floor, where she straddled him.
“I don’t care why the lights went out,” he said, “this is absolutely—”
Harmony fingered his man nips to hard little pebbles so he stopped talking. “It is amazing, but haven’t you figured Gussie out by now?”
“Gussie?”
“Every time you deny her existence, she does something to prove she’s here.”
Chuckling, Paxton slid his hands beneath her shirt and stopped. “What do you have between your breasts? It feels like a . . . pouch.”
“It’s a sachet of perfumed herbs,” she said, telling the truth.
He unhooked her bra in half a beat. “You know,” he said. “If the ghost does exist, this is the nicest thing she’s ever done for me. I’ve never been happier about anyth—”
The lights came on with a flash that half blinded them, and with the light came clarity of mind.
They couldn’t look each other in the eye, but they retrieved their hands so fast, their fingers tangled. A second later, Harmony stood to dust herself off and give Paxton time to stand and lose his boner. The locks clicked, eight in a row. “The doors are open,” she said.
“If the ghost exists,” Paxton said, turning her way, “she’s a mean old bat.” He shouted as if in pain, lurched, and knocked her on the floor.
“Hey!” she snapped.
“Sorry.” Paxton bent to give her a hand up, but straightened with a shout, before he could.
“Did you throw your back out?” Harmony rose on her own, watching Paxton turn to look behind him, and as he did, she saw the cause of his discomfort. A huge honking splinter, and not just any splinter.
One life-sized toy soldier’s rifle was missing its bayonet.
“What is it?” Paxton asked, trying without success to see his own backside.
“I really hate to tell you this, but you’ve been shot in the ass by a wooden soldier.”
----
Chapter Eight
“A toy soldier? That’s impossible,” Paxton snapped.
“No. That’s Gussie trying to prove she’s here.” Harmony walked around him, assessing the damage. “You know, judging by its placement, if you hadn’t turned to me when you did, she might have shot you in your man brain.”
Paxton paled, and Harmony put her arm around him. “Is there a nurse on the construction site?”
“There’s a first aid kit. Curt usually takes care of scrapes and bruises, but I’ll be damned if I want him knowing about this.”
“Too embarrassing?”
“Too close to feeding your ghost stories. I don’t want a mutiny, however close I got to abandoning ship for a weird spell there.”
“You gonna yank that bayonet out of your butt yourself, or are you gonna walk around like that and refuse treatment like a real
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