Love Like a Curse, Page 2

  Kayla grinned and, hands raised, headed out of the room. Opal had been dabbling in witchcraft for years now, and Kayla suspected it had something to do with feeling a little left out of the otherworldly connection running strong between she and Aaron. It made sense that Opal would want her own thing, Kayla just wished it had worked out for her better. To date not a single spell cast had taken and she was starting to suspect her little sister had a better chance of burning the apartment down than working any actual magic.

  On that note, she pulled out her phone, and made a note to pick up an extra fire extinguisher.

  “Still mad at Aaron?” Opal asked, following her back to the kitchen.

  “I’m not mad.” Kayla poured herself a glass of water and took a long drink. “I just don’t appreciate my big brother haunting every guy to cross my path. I’m twenty-five years old, and there’s nothing wrong with wanting a little lip action now and then.”

  Opal raised a brow, amusement dancing in her violet eyes. “A little lip action, huh?

  Her eyes went wide, and she looked at her sister, alarmed. Because yeah, where the heck had that come from?

  Sure she’d appreciated the flirt—at least before Aaron’s ring in the ashtray reveal—but that was as far as it went. The wine distributor didn’t cause her make-out-o-meter to ping. No one really did. Not since Rafe.

  But as she stood there, her lips tingled as the idea of a steamy make out session with…someone…set up shop in her mind. Which was nuts, because that kind of thinking would all but guarantee another run-in with her brother before the night was through. No kiss was worth that.

  Opal gave her a quick peck on the cheek and winked. “No, there’s nothing wrong with it. Don’t pout. You’ll get a little kissy-kissy sooner than you think. Now, get downstairs. I need to get ready.”

  Chapter Two

  Rafe Carpenter pulled into an open spot and cut the engine. The clock on the dash read eleven-forty-seven. He’d made it.

  He looked around the familiar corner of his old Wicker Park neighborhood. A couple of bumblebees and a zombie were waiting at the bus stop on the corner, while a she-devil and a Dorthy in a short skirt and five inch red heels giggled as they brushed past him on the sidewalk. They were pretty, but the only woman he was interested in was the one whose soft hazel eyes and breathy laugh had been causing him to push the limit on every mile he’d covered over the last sixteen hours.

  He peered down the street to the orange neon sign glowing bright against the midnight sky. The Black Cat Pub. He’d been in the bar before, but for whatever reason, never when Kayla was working.

  Let her be there tonight.

  The lights in the second floor apartment above the bar blinked on, and in the front corner window the silhouette of a man filled the frame. Rafe set his teeth, braced for the possibility that she’d found a boyfriend. Who was he kidding? After a year, she might be married by now.

  The idea that she was unavailable cut through him like a blade, but there was only one way to find out.

  The chilly night air urged him on, pressing and tugging against the backs of his legs with every step. Ahead, the front door of The Black Cat flew open, spilling music, laughter, and the beckoning glow of warm light into the night. And something else too.

  His chest tightened. He took a deep breath and tried to clear his head, but the teasing scent of vanilla was in the air, taking him back to the smell of her skin, the fleeting taste of her mouth. Kayla. Soft and sweet, she was still on his tongue, still in his arms. He felt the curve of her hips, and the press of her breasts against his chest.

  Blood thundered past his ears, throwing off his equilibrium. Jesus, he had to get inside.

  * * * * *

  Kayla pushed the pumpkin martini across the bar and turned away from the crowd. Facing the rows of liquor bottles, she wiped at her brow with the back of her hand, trying to slow the racing of her heart.

  What the hell was wrong with her?

  All night she’d had this growing sense of nervous anticipation, of something building, like a static charge in the air around her. She was jumpy, on edge, her skin prickling hot and cold.

  Opal sidled up to the bar, her black hair pulled into a tight bun and her green and purple polka-dotted stockings slinking up her legs to the bottom of her short black shift. “Nice turnout tonight.”

  “Sure is.” Kayla pressed her lips together, and the pressure made her think about being kissed. Hard.

  Opal leaned over the bar with a solicitous look on her face. “You okay?”

  “Yeah, I’m just hot.”—and bothered. “Distracted.” From sizing up every guy to walk through that door as a candidate for some feel-good groping…and finding them all lacking. But what had she really thought—that lightening would strike twice, and just because it was Halloween again, she’d meet another guy capable of getting her past her own head and hang-ups? Another guy she wouldn’t be able to forget even a year later?

  “You should clock out.” Opal walked around to the business side of the bar and grabbed a towel. “The rush is over, and you deserve the break. Who knows? Maybe you’ll find someone worthy of a little kissy-kissy.”

  “Cut the kissy-kissy talk before Aaron hears you, or half the clientele’s gonna leave with a rash and we’ll be out of business.”

  “You’ve got to stop worrying about Aaron. He Ouijaed me that he was feeling kind of drained after earlier, and not to expect him until tomorrow. So maybe just…don’t worry about him tonight. Find someone hot.”

  Kayla loved how simple everything sounded when Opal said it. ”Sure, I’ll just swing by the supermarket and pick up some Grade ‘A’ Hottie,” she laughed.

  “That’s the spirit,” Opal grinned, either oblivious to her sarcastic tone, or more likely just ignoring it.

  A couple regulars were leaving, and Kayla waved as they pushed the door open. Cool outside air swept through the bar in a rush. That glimpse of the night had her skin growing warm and her fingers tingling as a slow wave of yearning washed over her. As if pulled by some force outside her body, she started toward the door.

  “Yeah, if you don’t mind,” Kayla murmured absently. “Maybe I’ll go for a walk.”

  A goofy sort of smile quirked Opal’s lips. “Just relax and enjoy yourself. You can thank me tomorrow.”

  She was only a few feet from the door when it swung open again, and a six-foot-something man, dressed in blue jeans and a long-sleeve shirt, walked into the bar. The worn denim hung low on his trim hips, hugging in all the right places. The fit of his gray cotton shirt stretched across his broad shoulders and powerful arms. But it was the hard cut of his jaw, the crooked set of his nose, and cappuccino brown eyes colliding with hers that left her breathless, staring at the man she’d been waiting for this whole night. This whole year.

  “You’re back?” she whispered, barely able to believe her eyes.

  His face split into a grin and his brows lifted. “You remember me?”

  A nervous laugh slipped past her lips. Better than she was willing to admit.

  “Yeah, you make a lasting impression.” She should step back, give him some space to come inside, but her legs weren’t listening and took her further into his space. “How was Portland, Rafe?” she asked, the whisper of his name on her lips sending a shiver through her body.

  What was going on with her?

  “Honestly, not everything I’d hope it would be,” he answered, cupping her elbow with his big hand and brushing his thumb over the skin of her arm with an intimate familiarity she wanted to question as much as she wanted to melt into. Because, wow, did that feel good.

  A stitch pulled between Rafe’s brows as those light brown eyes tracked down to the point of contact between them. He looked like he was as surprised to find his hand on her as she was.

  Shaking his head, he let her go and took a step further into the bar. “Sorry. Been a long day driving and I’m not really thinking straight.”

  She blinked. “Driving in fro
m…?”

  “Portland. Or I guess Wyoming this morning.” He stretched his arms out, causing his shirt to pull even tighter across his defined muscles. “But yeah, as of about three and a half minutes ago, I’m officially back. You want to be the first one to welcome me home?”

  A warm heat crawled up her neck and cheeks as she thought about how very much she did want to welcome him back. How she wanted to pick up from where they’d left off a year ago.

  She froze, her body going rigid where she stood.

  What if Aaron was catching this? No, he hadn’t already or Rafe would be starting to scratch or wheeze. And he’d told Opal he’d been too depleted to be around. Was it even possible that by some stroke of luck, she had another window? With the same man from the year before?

  Could it be fate?

  “I know this sounds nuts,” Rafe said, causing her head to snap up. “But I’ve thought about you a lot since I left. I was thinking about you the whole way back, if you want the truth of it. Hoping that if you hadn’t met anyone, you might let me take you out sometime?”

  If she hadn’t met anyone? She wanted to laugh only suddenly her heart was pounding in her chest, and the sound of the crowded bar was fading into a low hum. Her vision tunneled to his face, his body.

  “It doesn’t sound nuts,” she said, stepping closer because suddenly the space between them physically hurt. With every breath, she caught more of his masculine scent…felt it hit her like a drug. A really good, really potent…dangerously addictive drug. Wow. “It’s good to have you back.”

  Rafe nodded, his eyes darkening as he lowered his gaze to where she’d splayed her hand between his pecs. Shocked, she jerked her wandering limb back. What the hell?

  She didn’t just touch random guys. Heck she didn’t touch not so random guys either. But here she was standing in the middle of her bar surrounded by dozens of patrons—anyone of whom might send a stray thought in her brother’s direction—practically petting him. And as incredible as that kiss from a year ago had been, it did not give her license to grope. Uncool.

  Rafe probably thought she was on drugs; one of those freaky X junkies who got off on touching everything. She might know how he’d taken her cheap feel if she could tear her eyes away from the muscular expanse of his chest long enough to glance up at his face…but every time she tried, she got tangled up in the sexy ridge of his collar bone… and images of her tongue teasing a wet path along it.

  Whoa. How did that happen—her hand was on him again, her fingers playing with the top of his shirt, her thumb smoothing over the line of his neck, back and forth across the strong vein that seemed to pulse faster with every stroke. She needed to stop touching him.

  She needed to apologize, explain that she wasn’t herself.

  Forcing her gaze to meet his, she opened her mouth to tell him she was sorry. “I missed you.”

  What? Shaking her head, she tried again. “I know it was just one night, but I think about you all the time.” Heat splashed up her neck and cheeks as her eyes went wide. She covered her mouth, but even from behind her fingers, the words wouldn’t stop coming…like something was possessing her. ”I was thinking about you today, thinking about that kiss.”

  Rafe’s breath rushed out, something hot building in the eyes that searched hers. Leaning forward, he closed the distance between them, so his lips hovered a fraction of an inch above the shell of her ear. “That kiss has haunted me for a year straight. You’ve haunted me.”

  Haunted. Something about that word tugged at her consciousness. Like there was a reason all these words spilling out of her and actions she couldn’t control might be a bad thing. But then all she could hear was the sound of his breath in her ear. All she could feel was the slow churn of anticipation deep in her belly, and the beating of his heart like it was slamming against her chest trying to get in.

  She reached for his hand, gasped at the spark of low charge when their fingers caught.

  Yes.

  Contact.

  A smile that was half relief and half exhilaration curved her lips as she met Rafe’s eyes.

  “We’ve got to get out of here.”

  * * * * *

  Hell yes.

  Kayla was tugging him back through the bar, down a dimly lit hallway, around a corner and through a door marked “private” to a stairwell that led to her upstairs apartment. Before the door to the bar even closed behind them, she turned, giving him those gorgeous sea glass green eyes again.

  “I know it’s been a year, and this is crazy… but I can’t wait.”

  Jesus, neither could he. Catching her by the back of the neck, he pulled her in, taking the kiss she’d been about to offer. And fuck, her mouth was perfect. Sweet and wet and open beneath the thrust of his tongue. Because yeah, he’d had to taste her, claim her…have her.

  Had to.

  Those sweet wandering hands of hers were coasting over his chest, balling in his shirt and then restlessly moving on. Like somehow no matter what she touched, how much she took it wasn’t enough. Or at least, that’s the way it was for him.

  He wanted her every soft curve, every secret place.

  And when she gave up that first fragile moan…he wanted all the rest of her sounds too. The gasps and cries and—shit, he shouldn’t be thinking about making her scream his name, but yeah, he wanted that too.

  Kayla was pulling at the fabric of his shirt with one hand, and his belt with the other.

  He’d been worried she wouldn’t remember him.

  Fuck, that unfounded concern might have made him laugh if he wasn’t burning up from the feel of her soft breasts pillowed against his chest and the urgent crush of a kiss about to blaze out of control.

  Her arms tightened around his neck, her knee sliding up his side as he rocked into her hips.

  “Oh god,” she gasped, moving to meet him as he did it again. “Rafe, please.”

  There was nothing tentative about her plea or the way she was practically crawling up his body. He had to have her.

  Beneath the swing of her short skirt, he cupped the globe of her ass and pulled her hips forward to meet him. He wanted her, couldn’t remember a time he’d ever wanted a woman more.

  Breaking away, Rafe nodded toward the stairs. “Your apartment?”

  She shook her head. “No. My brother’s up there.”

  Her brother. The man at the window.

  Right. He hadn’t even thought about her brother, hell he hadn’t thought about anything more than the way she was looking at him since he’d walked through the door.

  “I haven’t moved into my apartment yet,” he said. “I’ve got to pick up the key, but we could go there.” He could take her to a hotel, to his car, anywhere—so long as he could be alone with her.

  “Too far, too long,” she gasped, delving her fingers into his hair to pull his mouth back to hers.

  “Baby,” he groaned against her parted lips. “If we don’t stop, I’m not—”

  “Don’t stop. I don’t want to stop.”

  This time when he pulled back, he stared straight into her eyes, needing to know if what he was hearing was right. “What are you saying?”

  “That I wished we’d done this a year ago.”

  He moved his hands over the backs of her thighs, his fingertips tracing the tops of her stockings. His thumbs stroked the soft flesh above them until they grazed the warm, wet strip of her panties, and a shudder ran through her.

  She wet her lips, going on, “That I don’t think I can wait a minute more.”

  He’d driven a thousand miles to get to her…neither could he.

  Rafe grasped her ass and hoisted her against him. She wrapped her legs around his waist and looked pleadingly into his eyes. He braced her against the wall, rocking into the cradle of her thighs as he kissed her long and deep. Let the need rise between them until they were both breathless and fumbling with their clothes.

  Belt…panties…fly…condom…

  None of it could happen fast enough
.

  But then he was there, sliding against the wet spread of her sex, teasing her opening with each maddening pass.

  “Please,” she gasped, fisting his hair in her hands.

  Rafe shifted, bringing their bodies into alignment. And then after one grueling beat, pushed inside.

  Kayla’s head dropped back, a ragged cry escaping her throat. She shifted her knees higher up his ribs and cinched her ankles at his back. Pushing him deeper. Taking more. Taking all of him.

  “Kayla, you feel so fucking good.”

  She was tighter than he could have imagined, and her body pulsed around him with a hungry grip. He cupped her ass and rolled his hips, slowly moving within her. Face buried against the side of her neck, he breathed in the sweet scent of her.

  * * * * *

  Rafe’s breath was hot on her neck, his hands anchoring her hips, as he drove into her. God, she couldn’t believe this was real, that he was actually here. A year.

  But more than that, she couldn’t believe what they were doing, or the way her inhibitions had disintegrated into thin air. But it just felt so…right.

  “Rafe!” Really right.

  Her every nerve ending charged. Her blood simmered beneath her skin as pleasure coursed through her belly. Through every deep stroke, sensation pulled harder, built faster until she was there—gasping his name, as she clung to him.

  She rested her forehead on the damp skin of his neck, her body supported by his arms. As the last waves of her orgasm subsided, Rafe growled his release against the top of her head.

  Trembling, she drew a slow breath, caught sight of the clock on the opposite wall as the second hand ticked down to twelve. Pulling back, she met Rafe’s heavy lidded stare. He was still holding her…still inside of her, but suddenly it felt like he was slipping through her fingers. Like this little bubble of perfection was about to pop.

  “You okay, Kayla?” he asked, the stitch pulling between his brows making her wonder if he could sense her growing unease. If he could feel it too?

  With their eyes locked, that crazy connection between them sizzled and stretched taut, threatening to snap.