It was a body I crashed against, although I never saw anyone else in the room and certainly not in front of me. A large hand clapped over my mouth, muffling my shout, as a strong arm fastened around my shoulders, holding me fast to the invisible figure.
“Shh, puisín, no shouting now,” a man said in my ear, and there was a scratch of a beard against my cheek and warm breath on my skin. I screamed again, eyes growing huge and searching the air for any hint of who was holding me. My voice was barely audible through the grasp of his fingers, digging into my cheeks just enough to be firm. “Hush now, I’m not here to harm yer pretty head,” he said, a trill of Irish brogue ringing in his words.
In the back of my head, I was cataloging all the ways I might have enjoyed such a voice in my ear and a strong, wide chest against my own. He was being gentle but firm, and I had to remind myself that Magdalena hadn’t told me he was coming, which meant he wasn’t supposed to be in my bed. I went limp in his arms just long enough for him to relax, and then I thrashed with all my strength.
All I got was rolled over onto my back with a big and entirely invisible man pinning me down. Now I really had to argue with my own body’s reaction. He felt wonderfully heavy on top of me.
“Settle, puisín, settle,” he soothed, his knees spreading wide, keeping me so far stretched, I could barely move. “Now this…this don’t look good for me, I’ll allow. But just give me a tick to explain. All right?”
I narrowed my eyes up at the ceiling of my bed and gnashed my teeth against the invisible palm covering my mouth. He chuckled at my attempts at being ferocious.
“Name is Ezra MacKenna. I was traveling south when I heard about this manor and came to have a look for myself,” he said, his hips settling down onto mine as if he were more than happy to make himself comfortable while keeping me pinned and muted. “Saw your sweet face panting out of the window, watching that dog and his lady having themselves a time on the lawn. So I went about the proper channels to become a member here.”
I nudged at the hand over my mouth with my chin and furrowed my brow.
“You about to scream, puisín?”
I shook my head, and his palm loosened enough for me to speak.
“If you’re a member of the manor, why are you sneaking into a girl’s rooms?” I asked.
“Ah, see that’s the thing,” Ezra said, and he weighed a little heavier on me, relaxing. The pressure was divine, and I spent too much concentration keeping myself from squirming against him. “The membership fee is…well, honestly, puisín, it’s highway robbery. And I should know. I’m a thief.”
“It’s expensive?” I asked. Dr. Underwood had mentioned being a patron. And Auguste…he seemed a bit rich. As much as a man could when he spent most of his time between your thighs. But I hadn’t thought about who was paying for everything until now. Did that mean there wasn’t a provision for an unusual gentleman who wasn’t wealthy? That didn’t seem fair.
“It’s exorbitant,” Ezra said, drawing the word out playfully. Damn him, I was starting to smile. “And I know I should have seen myself off but, you see, I had a problem. I’d already seen your delightful face. Worse still, I’d watched you on that little bench writhing in pleasure.” And with that, his thumb stroked over my lips, parting them. I bit down on the tip, but we both knew it was less a warning and more an excuse for me to catch a taste of his skin. Bitter and salty, like a man’s. “I wanted to make sure I saw that expression on your face as often as possible.”
“You’re not a ghost,” I said, resisting the urge to suck on the digit still poised at my lips.
“No ma’am, I am not,” he said, rolling his hips and pointing out his…considerable solidness. “Just the victim of an unfortunate curse. I asked a witch to make me…discreet. She made me invisible.”
I narrowed my eyes again, wishing I knew exactly where to stare at his face. I was certain it was sporting false innocence. “You wanted a spell to make it easier for you to steal things.”
“I’m an honest man with a dishonest profession, puisín,” he crooned. “But I use my curse for good sometimes. I got you and your fangy friend out of the woods before the wolf arrived, didn’t I?”
"What do you keep calling me?" I asked, squirming beneath him. The word sounded like 'pusheen' and he purred it every time.
"Pussy cat," he said with a soft growl, and then he leaned down and lapped softly at my pulse.
I strangled my moan and tried to sort my thoughts. The flickering lights in my room had been Ezra. I bit my lip and started to relax. “Madame Mortimer says that no one can cross the threshold who isn’t meant to be here.”
I knew where Ezra’s face must be because he was nuzzling his nose against mine. He smelled like beeswax and woodsmoke and the whiskers of his beard were tickling my lips.
“Then it must be true,” he said, fitting our bodies together from our cheeks to our hips. My legs were starting to fold around him, happily discovering just how broad he was all over. “I was meant to be here, puisín. With you.”
“I’m not sure that’s what she meant,” I said, too breathy. When had my hands moved to rove over his back? And how did an invisible thief get exactly this many muscles up his ribs and shoulders? He felt like a mountain on top of me, and it was dizzying to see my hands floating while they felt so solidly grasping onto fabric and flesh. So I closed my eyes.
“Give me a night to prove it to you,” Ezra said, his mouth against the corner of my jaw. He had full lips and a big nose that kept nudging against my cheek, reminding me to pay attention to him. I grinned to myself. He reminded me of a puppy.
“Booker will be back in an hour,” I said.
“Then give me an hour, puisín,” he said, and then his tongue swiped across my pulse, right over the spot where Auguste had left his mark as I’d asked. I moaned and arched beneath Ezra. “What do you say?” he rasped.
My head was spinning. Would Magdalena throw me out of the manor? Was I too much of a wanton, even for a house like this one?
“It will have to be a very strong argument,” I said.
Ezra laughed, covering my lips with a kiss and swallowing my groan of relief. His kiss was rough and devouring, stubble scratching and teeth dragging over the sore mark Auguste had left on the inside of my lip. His tongue stroked against mine as I gasped for breath, rocking my hips up against his hard length. He didn't tease me, but he didn't rock with me, just remained pressing me deep into the mattress with his weight.
I sucked roughly on the invading tongue, and Ezra growled, the sound vibrating through me. My hands rucked up beneath a coarse shirt, and he lifted himself just long enough for me to tear the fabric up over his head. It wasn't until his arms had pulled free that what I'd felt suddenly became visible, dark fabric flying through the air to land in a heap on the floor where I'd tossed it.
"Oh! How does that work then?" I asked, trying to crane my neck to look, only for my eyes to fall shut again as Ezra took the opportunity to suck and bite my throat.
"Magic, puisín, now pay attention," Ezra said, licking at my collarbone and nosing at me again with that need for affection.
I returned my hands to his skin, hot and ridged with muscle, and closed my eyes against the disconcerting sight of them seeming to float in the air.
"You don't know how long I've been imagining your taste," Ezra groaned, taking another long lick off my skin, air rushing over the wet marks and sending shivers through me.
"You'll waste your hour if all you want is a taste," I groaned, my skirt riding up to muffle the weight of him cradled between my thighs.
"Aye, I suppose I would. But you sound so pretty as you beg, puisín. I heard you at night with your bloodsucker," Ezra rumbled.
I pinched the skin of his back roughly and gasped as he bucked against me. "Don't call him that. He's a gentleman."
Ezra's breath huffed hotly against my neck as he laughed. "Trust me, no man is a gentleman when something as sweet as you is on offer."
I'd lost track of one of his hands, but it reappeared suddenly, yanking down my collar and tearing a button away. Thick fingers dug into the top of my corset, and I arched, crying out as Ezra took me in his mouth, working my breast with a heady kiss. One of my hands traveled shyly up into thick, shaggy hair, tightening my fingers in his locks and holding him to me, as his other hand pushed the fabric of my skirts up high to wad around my waist.
His touch vanished, but the sound of fabric rustling was mingling with my panting, whimpering breaths and his steady groan around my breast. His kiss released, and suddenly there were fingers over my lips. My eyes flashed open, but there was nothing to see, only the brief hot, tap of flesh against my center before the immediate, deep thrust. I screamed behind Ezra's hand as he filled me. It wasn't painful—not after so many nights with Auguste—but it was shocking all the same. And exquisite.