Awakened with a Touch Page 5

  April interrupted her. "I'm sorry! I know I should have. I just wanted to be normal, and every time I accidentally did something weird, it made me feel more like a freak. I just wanted it to go away," she explained mournfully. The words rushed over themselves as they tumbled out of her mouth at high speed. After a pause, she asked quietly, "If you'd trained me, would I be able to handle this better?"

  Her grandmother was silent, contemplating the question. When she finally answered, it was with careful words but there was a ring of truth to them. "No. Nothing I would have taught you could fix this, but perhaps you'd have felt a little better. What I told you at your uncle's funeral was a child's lesson. It's true that we are meant to help spirits move on, and that it's no good to pay them attention or encourage them to stay. But that is for those spirits who have passed on naturally. Later, I would have taught you about the other types. April, you can make a spirit leave against their will, but it's a thing we reserve for those who cause harm. Whether his choice to stay is right or wrong, I can't say, but he seems to act only in defense. Your attention isn't a factor here." Her voice was sorrowful as she lectured, but it lifted April's spirits.

  "He's part of the house, and he refuses to go. Appo, he wants me to stay with him. Inside, it's like he's alive. He's solid and warm, honestly, there's no difference," she hurried to explain.

  "You know that no matter how real he feels, he's just a shadow, April. He's not alive and never will be; it might not feel like it matters now, but someday, it will. A spirit can stay or it can go on; it can never return to life, not unless—" Her grandmother stopped immediately, aware that she'd said more than she meant to. There was an extended silence and April waited anxiously.

  "Unless?" she whispered, prodding.

  The older woman seemed to debate whether or not she should continue but, finally, she did. "The only way for a spirit to live again, really live, is if he inhabits a living body. This is a bad thing! It's a theft, Chepota! He'd have to steal a life that didn't belong to him, and how could you enjoy that body, knowing where it had come from?" she asked.

  April slumped, letting her forehead rest against the cold metal of the gate. "Oh."

  "If you decide to stay with him, at least, you'll have love while you're inside your nice, big home. There are worse lives," she said gently.

  "That's true. You and mom won't hate me, if I stay with him?" April asked carefully.

  "We want you to be happy. I worry that your happiness wouldn't last long. The living and the dead aren't meant to stay together, but if you chose it, no, of course, we won't hate you, April," she reassured her granddaughter. "I trust your instincts and I trust the gifts you were born with to tell you if he's worth the sacrifice. Pay attention to them when you decide and not your heart. It's easy to be fooled when you love someone," she said finally.

  "Thank you, Appo. I don't know what I'm going to do yet. I'm not sure if this can work or not, but I know I love him, and I know he loves me, too," she said firmly. Maybe her heart was biased, but none of her instincts had told her otherwise yet.

  "I'll be here if you need me. And Foshi sends her love, but I need to go. She'll be ringing that damn bell for lunch in a minute. I wish I'd never given it to her," the older woman grumbled.

  April laughed; there was so much love mixed into the complaining that it made her heart hurt. "If you hadn't, she'd just have shouted the house down, instead," she pointed out. Her grandmother agreed and they exchanged love and goodbyes before April hung up. She sat there for a few more minutes, staring out into the street with her bisected view.

  Her grandmother wasn't angry or disappointed in her. She didn't blame her for holding him back from passing on. She still had the love of her family to fall back on, and those were all the things she'd hoped to accomplish with the call. But that slip—that tempting bit of information about a way for John to live again—that was something extra.

  She told herself that she wouldn't mention it to John. Either he already knew it was possible and had refused the evilness of such an idea, or the knowledge would just torment him like it was doing to her. To know there was a way that everything could be resolved, but at such a cost; it was a burden that sat heavily on her shoulders. She almost wished her grandmother hadn't even mentioned it.

  The gravel wasn't terribly comfortable to sit on, especially with her backside still a little tender from the day before, so she got up to go back inside. She found her feet were dragging as she headed back up the driveway and into the house, subconsciously stalling, though there was no real reason to avoid going in at the moment. It was daytime, and like as not, she'd have hours before anything of interest happened.

  It was more that she was simply exhausted with being filmed. So, she let her steps slow and used the time to do a quick count of the days. Being housebound had made them blend together and she realized she wasn't entirely sure how much time was left. A quick check on her phone's calendar confirmed that it was her eleventh day in the house. Somehow, it seemed like not enough time, but also too much. Nineteen days to decide her future, and nineteen days being filmed nonstop.

  Her mood was not the best when she stepped inside and locked the door behind her for the night. The house felt empty and the silence made her uneasy. She killed time by cleaning up her lunch mess and then settled in the library with a book, but she couldn't focus enough to comprehend what she was reading. After a couple of hours of struggling, she gave in and called John.

  He appeared instantly, looking concerned, but a quick glance around showed her in no trouble. "I just missed you," she said in a grumpy tone as she tossed her book to the floor.

  One eyebrow went up but he didn't comment, merely holding his arms open so she could step into them with a sigh. Just being with him made everything feel better, and she started to relax against his chest. But then, she thought of the cameras and wondered how odd it must look for her to be embracing air, and with an annoyed grumble, she pulled back. "I'm so tired of this, and we have nineteen more days to go," she said. She slumped back onto the sofa.

  He took a seat next to her without speaking and slowly reached out one arm to pull her closer. When she didn't resist, he dragged her into his lap and rested his chin on top of her head. "I know it is difficult for you and the expectations are high, but that's not such a long time, is it?" he asked gently.

  His voice was soothing and low, and she let out a long sigh and mumbled, "No," reluctantly.

  "How was your day? Did they give you a hard time over the kitchen?" he asked as his arms wrapped tighter around her body.

  She shook her head. "No, actually it was—it was fine. Carson randomly decided that she was going to be nice to me, for some reason. I explained to them before they saw the footage, so I think that helped," she said. "And then, we all watched it together and it was pretty freaking graphic. I mean, the camera angles were right on target to catch…um...everything."

  "Ah. The embarrassment must have been difficult to bear," he said. There was some sympathy in his voice, but they both knew she'd been the one to agree to it, not him. He had the grace not to say I told you so, which might very well have set off a tantrum that would have ended with her getting spanked again.

  Sensing she was on edge, he suggested they spend some time just talking, and after some debate, they ended up discussing what an ideal date would be. She suggested several crazy ideas that absolutely were not what she'd want to do on a date, but she wanted to see if he'd believe it. He wasn't quite that easily fooled, though she did have to explain to him what some of the suggestions were. "Hang-gliding? You like to fly around in the air on a giant kite when you go out on dates?" he said, sounding skeptical.

  "Oh, yes! It's the best thing. We go so high that all the people look like ants, and we spend hours soaring through the sky likes birds. Of course, sometimes, we end up a few states over and getting home is…" She paused, narrowing her eyes. "You're not believing a word of this, are you?" she said in an accusatory tone.

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nbsp; "No, not one word," he said, letting go of the laughter he'd been visibly holding back.

  "Damn, I thought I had you." She shifted in his lap, turning until she faced him with her knees on either side of his thighs. "Okay, your turn. If we lived in your time, where would you take me?" she asked curiously.

  He looked thoughtful, tipping his head back to stare at the ceiling while he thought it over. "Well, an unmarried girl with appropriate station would have to be chaperoned so it's unlikely we'd be alone. Meeting up with well-bred girls usually happened at public events with her whole family present. Maybe a ball; there was always a good opportunity to get lost in the crowds and have a few minutes to talk while you danced. And, if she liked you, she'd let you claim more than one dance."

  "A ball? Like with big fancy dresses and waltzes?" April made a face, her forehead wrinkling. "I don't know how to dance like that. I never even went to my prom," she admitted. She didn't care for the idea of wearing a dress so huge she couldn't get through the door, either.

  "Prom?" he asked, blank stare indicating they'd hit one of his gaps in modern education.

  "In your last year of school, when you're seventeen or so, the school has a sort of ball for the ones who are going to graduate. It's called a prom and you get all dressed up and dance. It's supposed to be one of the big memories of your teen years," she said.

  "Supposed to be? Why didn't you attend?" he asked, tilting his head and looking into her hazel eyes.

  "Ah, well, I wasn't exactly popular. Everyone thought I was a little weird so no one asked me to go with them. People don't usually go without a date," she admitted in a neutral tone. At the time, there'd been some sadness that no one had asked her, not that she'd been surprised, but after six years, she wasn't really bothered by it anymore.

  "I don't understand. I can't believe men of this age are so foolish as to neglect a beautiful woman like you," he said firmly, making her blush and look away as a silly grin crossed her lips. "Well, there's no reason we can't make up for lost time. At the very least, I can teach you to dance," he announced.

  "But I—" She stopped. Why not? What else did they have to fill the hours, anyway? "But we'll need music," she reminded him. She bit her bottom lip thoughtfully, face brightening as she got an idea. The television had at least thirty music channels, and although she'd never accessed them, she was sure there were some with classical programming.

  She slid out of his lap and grabbed the remote, flipping through the guide until she found one; the sounds of an orchestra filled the room.

  "Not quite," he said, shaking his head and wincing at the clashingly loud cymbals. The tempo was way too fast for dancing. "Are there other choices?"

  She nodded and flipped through the group of classical channels until he stopped her. "There, yes, that will work," he said. One thing the house didn't lack was floor space, so he rolled back a throw rug and held his hand out.

  "There is a ballroom on the second floor but I don't believe there's any music available in there," he said as he pulled her in and began arranging her stance. "I hold this hand, and you put your other hand on my shoulder," he explained. His hand at her back lightly guided her into position.

  "Like this?" she asked. It felt so stiff and formal with her right arm raised and a space between them. "Wait! A ballroom? How did I miss that?" she demanded. Then something gave her a mental nudge and she recalled her walk down Elizabeth's memory lane. Elizabeth had thought about throwing a party to use the ballroom, but April still hadn't had time to really explore the house.

  "Mhm. Upstairs. Yes, exactly, like that. Now, follow my movements," he said as he began to move.

  She kept looking down to try to see how his feet were moving but that just made her trip. She stumbled, closing the gap as she fell against him, laughing. "I suck at this," she said ruefully.

  "Don't be silly, anyone can dance," he assured her, smiling with a glint of amusement in his eyes. He pushed her back and dropped the hand at her waist so he could spin her.

  She giggled as her hair flew out behind her, upper body dipping back just a little as he turned and then dragged her back in to press against him. She felt almost graceful as she moved, though she knew it was all him. He was a very good dancer and a decent teacher, as well. By the end of the third song, she was remembering how to move her feet and starting to relax so that her movements were less stiff.

  They took a break after about an hour and she collapsed breathlessly on the couch. It had been exactly what she needed to relax and ease the stress she'd been under. She panted gently from the exertions. "That was fun, but just wait until I teach you the Macarena," she said with a slight little smirk. Maybe she'd never learned any real dances, but everyone knew that one.

  "The what?" he asked, eyebrows rising in question.

  "You'll see. It's a line dance they always play at weddings." She sniggered gleefully and, as soon as she caught her breath, she was back on her feet and pulling him over to show him the steps. She didn't think there was much chance of just happening on the right music on the TV, and she didn't get a good enough signal to go online to find it there, but she had once downloaded a basic version of it as a ring tone, and that was what she played while she taught him.

  He watched her skeptically as she showed him the whole routine, crossing his arms over his chest and giving her a look. "Are you sure you're not just mocking me? That's an actual dance?" he asked, incredulous.

  "Yep, I promise you it is. One of the most popular ones, too. Of course, it's kind of old now, but people still play it at weddings and stuff," she assured him with complete sincerity.

  It took a little coaxing but, finally, he gave in with a sigh and tried the comical steps to the dance. Eventually, he mastered them; they weren't all that difficult, though he never stopped complaining about how silly they looked.

  "That's the point. Trust me; wait till I show you the chicken dance," she said, giggling as she finally pronounced him competent to dance at any wedding. A shadow darkened her giddy mood for a moment as she realized that he'd never get to go to a wedding, but she brushed it off.

  He snorted, "I believe I'll stick with proper dancing. Yours are too undignified," he said.

  "Old man," she teased, sticking out her tongue.

  He pulled her into his arms in response. His hand slapped down across her ass roughly, making her squeak and jump. "Not too old to teach you a thing or two, girl," he said in mock threat.

  The glint in his eyes made it clear that he was teasing, and she molded herself against his chest, head tipping back to stare up into his deep blue eyes. She loved the way they shifted color from light to dark, depending on his mood. "I'll look forward to the lessons," she assured him.

  His large palm stayed where it was, hand cupping her ass and gripping her as they embraced. "All of them?" His lip curved up at one corner. "Some of them might be painful." The smirk broadened slightly and she realized he was talking about something other than dancing lessons.

  She squirmed in his arms as her face heated. "Well, I wouldn't say I'd be looking forward to those as much," she said. There was a slight bit of nervousness in her tone, but her body was reacting differently. After the punishment she'd received the day before, she wasn't exactly in a hurry to get another spanking, but her body didn't seem to be taking that into account. Her nipples tightened and a tremor of excitement spilled across her skin. Her hips rocked forward to press against him.

  He tilted his head, one eyebrow rising skeptically. "You sure about that, darlin'? Seems like that might be a little falsehood."

  She dropped her head, groaning. "I am definitely not looking forward to any more painful lessons, trust me, but the thought of it is kind of interesting," she admitted. She knew, absolutely and for sure, that she wanted to avoid further punishment at all costs, but her traitorous body still got turned on at the thought of spanking. She couldn't figure out why, but she knew that if he slid his hand inside her pants right now, he'd find her slippery and wet.
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br />   What was worse, he knew it, too. He had that look in his eye as he began to move her towards the wall of books. With her eyes locked on his, she took one step backwards after another until she felt the sturdy wood case at her back. She didn't say a word when he moved his knee between her thighs and pressed up.

  She whimpered as he lifted her body with his knee until she was stretched on her toes, all her weight balanced on his leg. It must have looked impossible on camera, but she wasn't thinking about what others would see at that moment. She was just thinking about the hot pressure that was placed just so against her mound. She could feel her clit pulsing in response and her eyes slid shut as a breathless sigh went out of her.

  He leaned in and whispered a one-word order into her ear, "Ride."

  Her eyes flickered open and she looked confused. "What?"

  He laughed and leaned back, hands going to her hips and shifting her in a rocking motion and then she understood. She licked her bottom lip nervously, leaning forward to wrap her arms around his neck. The leaning position caused her to press more of her weight against the top of his knee and she began to undulate her hips against that steady pressure. There was an instant spike of pleasure and she couldn't stop the low moan that spilled out of her mouth.

  He guided her movements until she found her own rhythm and then he just held her to keep her balanced as she did all the work. The gentle rolling of her hips as she shifted back and forth caused a slow friction to build. Her panties soaked, she could feel the cotton cloth helping to provide stimulation with her movements.

  It took only a minute or two before her hands clenched tight in his hair and her head tipped back against a row of leather-bound books. A cry of animal pleasure filled the library and was recorded indelibly as she shuddered through her orgasm. She slumped against him and he slowly lowered her back to the floor; her arches and calves were grateful for that.

  Leaning against the bookcase, she struggled through a lazy haze of pleasure to catch her breath and focus her attention on him. He watched, amusement and hunger obvious on his face. "That was…that was nice," she stammered finally and immediately felt stupid. Nice didn't begin to cover the sudden intensity of what had just happened, and they hadn't taken off a single piece of clothing to get there. "I mean. it was—"