Forget Me Never by Sable Hunter (spicy books to read .TXT) 📕

at her, the very thought of it made her giggle now.  He had looked so stern.  His face was wide, his jaw was strong and his eyes could be piercing.  But now he looked at her with love and there were crinkles of happiness around his mick and eyes and Savannah couldn’t wait to kiss each and every one of them.

Elvis sang “Don’t Be Cruel” and she sang along, a little off-key, at the top of her voice.  Never had she been so happy.  Why kismet had chosen to reward the nothing little swamp rat with someone as wonderful as Captain Patrick Heath O’Rourke was a mystery to her.  The miles whizzed by and she couldn’t help but open the sun roof and let the late fall breeze blow through her tresses.  Since the day of her attack, they had spoken on video chat as often as possible and Savannah believed they were growing closer day by day.

In the past, she had always been skeptical of online emotional relationships.  How real could they be?  And even though she and Patrick had physically met and had some unusual connections, most of their attachment had developed via email and instant messaging.  Now all she could think about and plan for was his homecoming.  He thought it would be after the first of the year.  So sometimes between now and then, Savannah had to come to terms with her lack of sexual experience.  Oh Patrick knew she was a virgin, he had to – considering that she had lived her life as a pariah.  But their emails had become so hot!  They were having cybersex, especially on private message where there was no time delay.  And she was good at it!  It amazed her how intimate and emotional black words on a white line could be.  Before meeting Patrick and starting this computer affair, she had rarely ever masturbated.  Now, Savannah was a near nympho.  All it took was seeing Patrick O’Rourke’s name pop up and her clit popped up right along with it.

Gee, she needed to think about something else – she was turning herself on.  Something mundane, that’s what she needed.  But still about Patrick – oh yeah.  During the time she had been communicating with him, she had found out a little more about his childhood.  He had given her a little insight into the history of Evermore Plantation and she had begun gathering up anything else she could find.  Little Felix worried her.  She couldn’t help but dwell on what might have happened to him.   The idea of a little lost soul trapped in space and time for eternity had stolen many hours of her sleep.  She wondered if she could help him move on. . .  Savannah had gone online and ordered a half dozen books on ghost-hunting and communicating with the dead.  It was fast becoming more than a hobby.

So far she had visited the local cemetery three times.  Once she had taken the girls from work with her, but that had been a horrible idea.  It had quickly disintegrated from a paranormal investigation into a giggling, totally irreverent, grave-hopping shindig.  She had spent most of the evening apologizing to the dead.  Tammany, Cato and Fresca had probably offended the deceased with their attitude – or maybe not.  It’s possible their joy had been infectious.  Either way, Savannah had tried to observe proper protocol, greet everyone and ask permission to videotape and take photographs.  But Fresca and Cato had started making up silly stories about the dearly departed and Tammany had proceeded to lay down on people’s graves and then jump up and scare the other three when they would pass by.  Suffice it to say, Savannah had not gotten any evidence worth having.  No self-respecting ghost would come near those three hedonistic heifers.

Her next visit had been different, however.  She had gone alone.  Not really knowing what to expect, she had just started taking pictures.  Walking through the old cemetery, weaving in and out of the tombstones, Savannah had spoke kindly to the dead and explained that she was searching for proof that they were still tethered to earth.  She began snapping photos, constantly watching through the viewfinder.  At first she got nothing – no dust orbs, no possum eyes – nothing.  And then they started to come. . .

First there were two and then three and then three hundred.  Before Savannah knew it she was surrounded by balls of light.  The orbs were textured and incandescent, giving off their own iridescent glow.  The colors were magnificent: cobalt blues, vibrant greens, pink, gold, opalescent – even a couple of blood red ones.  What did the colors mean?  She had no idea.  It could be like auras, indicating personality traits or moods.  And the closer she looked at some of the orbs, the more convinced she became that there were faces in some of them.  Savannah was shocked, amazed and a little unnerved.  She had left shortly thereafter.  In fact she had trotted.

When she had gotten home she had giggled like a child and immediately sent a few to Patrick.  She shared everything with Patrick: happy news, sad thoughts, worries – the only thing she hadn’t shared was how people were beginning to gossip about her again.  The news of her unfortunate past had leaked out around town and at the hospital.  She only prayed that it didn’t leak out at work, she needed her job.  Mr. Davis knew, but if the other employees protested working with her, she didn’t know what she’d do.   Being questioned by the police and having to explain everything there hadn’t helped, either.  People loved to talk and a connection to leprosy was unusual enough to start lips moving.  Savannah didn’t want to upset Patrick, so she kept quiet.  She knew he would worry.

During the last few weeks, she had gone back to the cemetery several times and learned more each time she went. In October PROOF had come to town and