Free Riding the Storm by Sydney Croft

every single square inch of skin, which would
set his body to vibrating better than his old Harley ever did.
    Without
warning he shoved his hands under her shirt again.
    "This
is such bullshit, Creed," she said, even as the house began to hum again.
    "It's
called ghost hunting, honey. Trust me." But she didn't trust him, didn't
truly trust anyone but Dev.
    Creed
liked pissing off Annika, mainly because it was easy to do, and he liked the
flush it brought to her cheeks. Rumors held that she was frigid as hell and hot
for Dev. Neither of which made complete sense, especially the way her body was
reacting to his.
    But
none of that was his concern now. He was on the job. Paging the ghostbuster.
Sort of.
    His
spirit was more like the bounty hunter who brought the goods to him. Through
Kat, the ghosts would tell their story. Not like Oz, who could see through to
the ghosts themselves. Of course, Oz was always contacted by the worst of the
worst.
    Oz
would never answer Creed as to whether he could actually see the spirit who'd
been with Creed since birth.
    Oz
had been gone from ACRO for a while now—three years by Creed's count.
Supposedly, no one, including Dev, had heard from him again.
    He
wondered if Dev opened up about that to her, or to anyone. Oz would've been the
natural choice to come here and feel for any leftover energy.
    "I
don't think there'll be much," Dev had told him last night. "But I'm
looking to see if any spirit talks to you specifically about adoption. Or
kidnapping."
    Creed
hadn't questioned further, had a feeling that Annika was sent ahead to scout
out energy but wasn't sure what else she'd actually been let into.
    For
him, so far, there was nothing but a feeling of intensity in this house. In
itself, that was normal for a haunting. Usually, the energy translated into a
feeling of intense loss or sorrow, mixed with other emotions. But here, there
was no confusion and pain. All those normal feelings were suppressed. Gone.
Replaced with nothing more than a void.
    Which
was not normal at all.
    "Tell
me what you feel," he said, his hands firm against her upper back.
    "I'm
cold," she whispered.
    "You
don't feel cold to me at all," he whispered back. "I need you to
touch me—put your hands under my shirt and touch me."
    She
complied, yanking his shirt out of his pants and putting her freezing cold
hands on his back. Her body molded to his, seeking his warmth. He bent his head
into her neck, closed his eyes so he could concentrate on the house ghost, who
was now seeking its own warmth from Annika.
    This
was going to end in disaster. Annika knew it. No good had ever come of her
touching a man so intimately. "Why is this thing pissed?" she asked,
trying not to notice how hard, how cut he was beneath her fingers. She
definitely didn't need to note the raw sensuality emanating from him like some
sort of masculine power grid.
    "It
wants possession of someone. It's attracted to your energy. And mine. But
together, we're too strong for it."
    "I
swear to God, Creed, if you're making up this shit as an excuse to put your
paws on me…
    Amusement
flickered in the black depths of his eyes as he looked down at her. "You
think I'm that desperate?"
    "The
raging hard-on jabbing at me says yes."
    He
thrust against her, his back arching, and her first instinct was to deck him.
Even as she curled her hands into fists, she noticed how his entire body had
gone rigid, his breath hissing through clenched teeth. No, this wasn't sexual.
    "It's
trying to separate us. Hold on to me—fuck… Dev's parents. Murdered."
    Okay,
she officially hated this paranormal shit. Dead people should not have this
much power. "Tell the fucker that everyone knows Dev's parents were
murdered. I'm not impressed."
    "He
says… here. In the house." Creed strained like he was trying to breathe,
and she had no idea what to do except hold him like he'd told her to, and
Christ, now she was starting to get scared. Not of the ghost, but for Creed.
She just hoped his