A Wish, A Kiss, All Amiss Ch. 05

The corner of her lips kicked up. "Are you saying that this is not what you want from me, Gabriel?"

He almost hated her at that moment; he hated the way she cheapened his feelings for her like she was not worth more than this; he hated the way she used it to hurt him as if she knew it would hurt him more than anything. It did; it hurt more than anything.

And she was close enough for him to feel her heat, but it was not heat; she was pure flame, burning red, setting him ablaze. Rosaline reached for his belt buckle with trembling hands but before she could open the clasp, Gabriel lifted her from the solid floor, flipped her around and pushed her against the wall.

She raised the corner of her sinful mouth, her pink tongue tracking the outline of those lush lips, daring him to kiss her. He crashed his lips onto hers.

Rosaline met his tongue stroke for stroke, squirming against him, her hands roaming free on his back. He grabbed her breast and squeezed the tissue in his hand, wanting to contain it. Failed. He plucked at her taut nipple and she arched herself into his hand.

"Yes," she screamed.

Her hands found the waistband of his jeans again, and Gabriel was suddenly afraid. He was afraid of the implosion she would induce if he allowed her free reign on his body and his mind. So he turned her around to face the wall, blocking himself from her probing gaze, shielding himself.

"Don't you move," he warned against her ear, and she turned her head to face him.

Her flaming gaze saw through him. A wicked smile on her lips. "Make me."

With a sharp intake of air, he removed his belt and pushed his jeans down his hips. The metal hit the wooden floor with a loaded thud.

Lowering himself, he parted her legs with his bent knees. She flexed her hips in response, her hands pushing against the wall to keep her back arched. Grabbing his cock in one hand, he positioned the swollen tip against her wet opening, while his other hand found her clit through the soft hair. She threw back her head and moaned his name.

And he froze.

"What's wrong? Isn't this what you came back for?" she asked into the wall.

He flipped her around so he could meet her eyes but saw the reflection of the sorrow of his own eyes. He stepped away from her flame, restoring his clothes to cover himself.

"I came back because I care about you."

Her nostrils flared as she sagged against the wall. He watched the tears well behind her eyes as she blinked them away.

He never, in his life, hated himself more than at this moment for telling the truth, for the truth could only lead to more pain.

"Get dressed." He picked up her clothes off the floor and tossed them at her. "We are leaving. It's not safe here."

*****

Rosaline woke up in a strange room, feeling like a creature had burst out from her now-split brain. It was still dark out, and her phone blasted with the luminosity of a supernova that it was two in the morning. This was not her own room; the linens were much softer and they did not smell like her bed. It smelled like alcohol.

She guessed this was the wrath one must endure if one ordered a bottle at noon and another one at three and a whisky at seven and...OK, she got the point.

Then the memories barged into her with a full army set on vengeance. She had attempted to theorize the timing and Gabriel's involvement, drawing and charting all the imaginable possibilities that might constitute his ulterior motives, leading herself into a rational cul-de-sac.

She had never been one to indulge in the temporary fix alcohol could provide, but it had felt appropriate because the alternative was more paralyzing.

But where was she now?

Oh. Gabriel.

Rosaline swung her legs off the side of the bed; or her legs anchored themselves on the floor, her torso a wavering nylon rode and her head the bobbing boat.

Fuck.

She needed some water. And of course, she would, at that exact moment, kick over the bottle of water that he left next to the bed. And paracetamol. Then she remembered she needed to pee as well because he had made her wash down the painkiller with a liter of water.

The hallway was filled with the silver light from the full moon, and as she inspected each closed door in search of the bathroom, there was one door that was wide open. Darkness shielded everything beyond the foot of the massive bed. She softened her steps and snuck away from the frame of the master bedroom and found the bathroom at the end of the hallway.

She had tried to fuck Gabriel because no matter which of her theories proved itself to be right in the end, she knew one thing for sure; she wanted him, if only for one night. She wanted him with a desire that burned all the other options, but the most pathetic of all she wanted him to want her.

Sitting on the toilet relieving herself, she felt much lighter, so light that she was not sure if she still had substance. And as she accidentally peeked at the two-meter mirror above the sink, she did not know who this girl with sunken eyes and messy hair was.

Rosaline had not believed if anyone would want her for her once they discovered that Rosaline the girl was simply a conduit for the powers that no human beings should be allowed to possess, and therefore possess it they must at any cost, especially when the cost was just the life of an ordinary girl.

So when she returned to find her lock broken and Gabriel standing in her apartment looking concerned, she had desperately wanted to prove herself right: everyone wanted her for something else and no one wanted the girl behind it all.

And it had been as liberating as it had been damaging until the moment it was not. Until the moment he announced what she truly wanted but had been too scared to consider a possibility.

She headed back to where she now assumed to be his guest room, but the darkness beckoned her as she passed by the master bedroom once again.

"Gabriel?"

No. That was stupid. He must be asleep; it was two in the morning, and he did not start drinking at noon.

"If you want something to eat, the kitchen is downstairs," he said.

OK. She was wrong. Again.

"Did I wake you?"

Of course, she did. She should go back to the guest room and let him sleep.

"No."

She lingered in front of the door as she considered what she wanted. "Can I sleep with you?"

He turned on the bedside lamp and sat up to study her, the comforters bunched at his waist; the fabric draped around him, rendering him a stoic Roman statue. He ran a hand through his hair and patted the other side of the bed.

She padded into the room, sat on the edge of the bed and slowly she pulled her legs onto the bed and settled herself into the softness. He turned off the light, inviting the moonlight to stream through the window.

"I'm sorry," turning on her side, she whispered in his direction.

There was no response for a few seconds. Then his low voice drifted to her side, "Come here."

She scooted to his side, and he pulled her into his embrace, tangling his limbs in hers. His breath was long and steady on her face, his features a faint outline.

"My mother sends her regards," he spoke, his voice quiet.

"You told her?"

"She knows a walk of shame when she sees one," he said. "I think she likes you."

"Are you close?"

"No." He huffed a dry laugh. "But they made sure I have enough money to have anything."

"Anything?"

"Yes. Inconsequential things. Things that most people want, private islands, properties, jets, job titles that sound important, girls—"

The muscles around her lips twitched.

"OK, I wanted girls, too, but I never really cared that much." He looked to her. "I wanted something money can't buy."

"You can start with the girls."

"I'm starting with one girl," he said into her ear.

"Good for you, but bad news for the girl. She has to put up with all this without the financial compensation," she said.

He chuckled. "What with her new drinking habits, I can't imagine she likes this new direction, no."

She rolled her eyes. "So what did you want?"

"Young and stupid, I decided I wanted a legacy, something influential, and what is more influential than ideas?"

Realization dawned on her. "That is why."

"I'm not even that good," he said softly.

She traced her finger on his angular jaw. "You're fine."

"You said it."

"You're good enough."

He laughed and kissed her cheek.

"I have it now."

"A legacy?"

"Influence," he said. "It may be hard for you to comprehend but I do have a modicum of modesty."

She laughed. "So what do you want now, Gabriel?"

"I want to hear you laugh like that," he said against her lips and kissed her, full of longing and sorrow as if her laugh was a secret, as if he could not have her laugh like that. But he had just done that, and she would gladly laugh a thousand times more just like that for him.

He changed the subject when he broke the kiss and she was still panting for air.

"I don't think The Order did it," he said.

"What do you mean?"

"The break-in, it's messy and careless, not exactly something a powerful organization would do. And while we're at it, I'm starting to doubt the text message you got. If you say they want you back, they now accomplished exactly the opposite by alerting you. Twice. It just doesn't make sense."

She frowned. "But who else can it be? No one else knows about me. Or are you saying this is all just random? It was a random burglary and a random text message?"

He went quiet for a while and said in a low voice, "Honestly? I don't know."

He hugged her more closely. "And I'm scared because I don't know."

"They didn't break into your house," she said.

Perhaps she spoke too soon because his shoulders tensed up, so she pressed her lips to his, caressing them with soft pressure.

"Don't ever say that," he said against her lips, smoothing a hand down her back as if he was reassuring himself of her presence here in his arms.

"I can use my powers."

He let out a long breath and she thought he closed his eyes and said, "You don't even know who they are."

"I have a phone number. I can contact them and get them to be in the same room as me."

"And do what?"

"To find out who they are? Get them to tell me the truth?"

He frowned but stayed quiet.

"I know this won't solve all the problems, but it will give us a lead," she continued.

"Sounds like a terrible idea."

"You're very encouraging."

"It's careless. And have you considered that this might be exactly what they want you to do to draw you out?"

"You read too many crime thrillers."

He rolled his eyes; she could not really see but she knew he did. "That's my fucking job."

She shook her head. "They don't have my powers."

"They will if you walk into their trap and they get you."

"You should consider becoming one of those self-help book authors. You'll make a fortune and you don't need to read so many crime novels."

"Rosaline, you don't even like to use your powers."

"I don't but I have no choice if I stay. I'm putting both of us at risk."

He said quietly after a pause, "I can't lose you."

She softened her tone when she spoke. "It's one meeting, and we only need to be in the same space; they don't need to actually see me."

"How do you get them to talk to you if you don't show up?"

"They can talk to you."

"Try it on me. Whatever you want them to do, try it on me first."

"No." She tensed up.

"Now you are contradicting yourself."

"I'm not. I don't want to try it on you."

"Why the hell not?" he asked. "I need to know you can do this before you get into more trouble with this crazy plan, which I'm still not convinced of, by the way."

"I just don't."

No matter how comfortable she could be with her powers, she never wanted to alter the thoughts of the people she cared about. Of the people she loved. Not again. Wait.

Did she just say love?

This had escalated quickly. She could not love him, could she? It had only been a few weeks. It must be something else, something less profound. Like lust. Or infatuation. Or his charm. Or his money. She was just in love with his wealth.

Yes. In love. That sounded better. She was just in love.

"You're repeating yourself. What's the difference?" he asked.

The moment the question came out, she knew he understood.

"I'm going to sleep." She wriggled herself out of his tight embrace and turned her back to him; he molded himself to her curvature, winding his arm from her stomach to the valley between her breasts.

"What's the difference, Rosaline?" he pressed, his voice tantalizing against her ear.

"I'm trying to sleep here."

He huffed a warm breath. "Coward."

She could not resist. "You're one to talk."

"I don't claim to be the expert here. Someone had to strip-tease it out of me."

"After two bottles of red wine and many, many fingers of whisky." Extending her fingers to count, she blamed it on the alcohol even though it was one of the most liberating things she had ever done.

"You're making it a difficult decision, Temptress; should I put a lock on my liquor cabinet or should I give you the password?" He dropped a series of wet kisses along her neck, making her laugh turn into a gasp.

"Gabriel?" she panted.

"Yes, love?"

"I think I'm in love with you," she said over her shoulder against his lips.

"I know." He kissed her, then pulled away. "I just wanted to hear you say it."

"Asshole."

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Next chapter coming next week. Hopefully. Maybe.

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