Tempted by His Wicked Kiss

by Zoey Williams

  But he’d lied a million times before—it comes with the territory when you’re on the other side of the law. He’d never felt guilty about any of the lies he’d told until now. And, he reasoned, if she knew the truth, she’d head straight for the hills...or the police. But they couldn’t help her. The police couldn’t book a dead man on charges of robbery.

  Above all this, there was another feeling. One he’d never felt before for anyone else. When he held her, he wasn’t just amazed at the fact that he could. He was amazed at what it did to him. He wasn’t lying when he told her she was beautiful—that was the truth. What he’d do to just kiss her lips like a normal person—kiss her because he wanted to and not because it was the only way to extract her soul.

  It hit him and the sick feeling he felt in the park washed over him again. Her skin still undoubtedly glowed with the mark. She was his target. This woman was the one person he’d have to sacrifice in order to avoid an eternity of torture. She was the one person he could send to the Underworld in his place. But could he do it?

  The snow was falling heavily now. Mounds of it collected along the curb, a slush had begun to form on the sidewalk. Charlotte dragged her feet slightly, careful not to slip. As she led him into the heart of Alphabet City, he noticed the buildings getting shabbier and shabbier. Paint peeling off of doors, shattered windows, garbage overflowing from the stoops of buildings and onto the street below. Their neighborhood in Brooklyn had been like this, except with more bullet holes. Someone like her—a wallflower who his crew never associated with—was probably on such a bright path in school and still ended up in a dumpy neighborhood exactly where they started from. He pressed his lips together, not sure how to feel when he reminded himself that it was all his and Cal’s fault.

  Finally, Charlotte stopped in front of a dilapidated storefront, a small door poking out of the corner. She withdrew a key from the depths of her fringed leather purse slung across her chest. After a few seconds of jiggling the key in the lock, she shouldered the door open. Leading him inside and up a creaky set of stairs, she turned around for a quick second and gave him a shy smile. For a moment, he wanted to forget about the purplish tint dancing over every square inch of her body and enjoy a cup of tea with her, spend time getting to know the woman he’d thought about with regret since the night he and Cal had stolen from her. But this whole problem was out of his hands. He had no choice; he had to take something else from Charlotte and then leave. At the same time, he had to make sure no one else was around. It was a blessing that she’d invited him back to her place.

  She opened the mint green door of her apartment and the inside seemed appropriate for someone who made her living as a fortune teller. Horoscope charts decorated the walls. There were colorful scarves thrown over lampshades, giving the room a multihued glow. Long strands of beads hung in doorways, barely grazing the floor. Two large velvet pillows were arranged in the living room in lieu of a couch or chairs. Charlotte went to the stove and put a large silver kettle on the burner. Then she lowered herself onto one of pillows and motioned to him to sit across from her.

  “While the water’s heating, I can still do a palm reading for you.” She reached out her hand. When Jack hesitated for a second, she added, “On the house, of course.” Her plump, pink lips pressed into a smirk.

  It was true that he didn’t have any money on him, but he didn’t hesitate for that reason, of course. He’d just hoped whatever magic had happened when she touched him on the street corner hadn’t vanished. It thrilled him to think that someone other than Cal could see him, listen to him. It was like a little secret just between the two of them. He was fascinated by it.

  “Which hand do you prefer?” he asked.

  “Right.”

  He laid his hand on top of Charlotte’s outstretched palm. The magic wasn’t gone. He could feel her bare skin, warm and smooth. A small shiver went up his spine. It shocked him—and not just the fact that he was able to physically feel again. Never in his life had someone’s touch had such an effect on him. Something about Charlotte made him wish he’d remembered her from school and noticed her sooner.

  She ran the tip of her finger down the center of his palm in a slow line and he stifled a gasp. Seeing her across the platform, he was not only struck by her mark but how much he realized he wanted her. Being alone with her now only intensified his longing.

  “Hmm. It’s weird. Your fate line is unlike any I’ve ever seen before. I’m not sure what it means. And your life line is pretty short,” she observed, her voice barely a whisper as she concentrated.

  He laughed mirthlessly despite himself. “That’s fitting,” he said it without thinking.

  Her eyes snapped up to his. “What do you mean?”

  He looked down. “Nothing.”

  You have her alone, just do it, a voice in his mind ordered. All he had to do was kiss her, breathe in powerfully enough to extract her soul, and get out of there.

  “You know, I’ve never told you this, but I was really into you in high school.” He was a sick bastard for using the information she provided against her. But if it was the only way to get her to kiss him without forcing himself on her, which felt wrong—he’d done some terrible shit, but would never force himself on a woman—then so be it.

  Charlotte’s jaw dropped. “You were?”

  The lie worked like a charm.

  “Yes, absolutely. Did you ever feel the same way?”

  Charlotte shook her head. “I can’t believe we’re having this conversation.” She laughed breathlessly. “But um, yeah, I did.”

  Learning that made him feel something warm in his chest, he had to admit. But now was not the time. He had to focus. “You know, you look exactly how I remember you.” That wasn’t exactly a lie. Jackson reached out and massaged her cheekbone with the pad of his thumb. He began to bow his head to hers, and as he leaned in closer he could feel her warm breath tickling his lips. He could practically feel their faces touch, so little space was between them.

  “You too,” Charlotte breathed, her eyelids fluttering shut. She leaned forward slightly.

  A piercing whistle sounded from the other side of the room, causing Charlotte to jump. The damn teapot.

  “Oh! Let me get that,” she said.

  The whistling climbed higher in pitch and decibel until she jumped up from her place on the floor and walked over to the stove, snapping the burner off. She removed two mismatched mugs and a small mesh fabric bag from a cupboard above her. Untying the drawstrings of the bag, she reached in and pinched a small mound of loose tea leaves, dropping some into each mug before lifting the dented teapot and pouring a stream of hot water into the cups. Steam rose up around her like a hazy cloud.

  She walked back over to him slowly, careful not to slosh the mugs’ contents, and then expertly crossed her ankles and lowered herself back down to the pillow. She handed him a mug.

  “It’s chamomile.”

  He held the mug in his hands, unsure of what to do. He’d learned the hard way that whenever he attempted to eat or drink anything, it’d go directly through his non-being. Dammit, he missed food. But was it different now that he was around Charlotte? He didn’t want to chance it. So instead, he held the mug in both hands, pretending to savor its warmth. Charlotte blew a few times on the tea, causing small ripples to dance on its surface, before taking one hesitant sip. She closed her eyes for a moment and sighed.

  “It feels good to warm up my insides.” She opened her eyes, sky blue rimmed with long lashes. He could get lost in them. “Aren’t you thirsty?” she asked before bringing the mug to her lips again.

  Jackson shifted in his seat. “I’m going to let it cool down a little first.” He needed to change the subject. “So. What were you studying in school?”

  Charlotte took a second to swallow her tea before answering. “Psychology.”

  “Oh, do you want to be a therapist?” Jack asked.

  “Well, not really. I’m hoping to become a school counselor. I’
m sure you remember that I wasn’t all that well-liked.” She looked away, running her pointer finger around the lip of her mug.

  “Really? I don’t remember that at all.”

  “Oh yeah, big time. I was into this new age stuff and no one kind of understood me. I wish I could have had a counselor to talk to. Especially our senior year. Remember how we didn’t have one that year?”

  He remembered and shook his head. “That poor guy.”

  Charlotte couldn’t help but laugh, her blue eyes sparkling. “Mr. Alvarez was so naïve, fresh out of school. He only lasted one day.”

  Jack put his mug down, laughing, too. “To be fair, he didn’t have a chance. Not when Cal was his first student to advise.” He felt kind of bad for the guy. “So you really want to be a counselor? After knowing how hard it is?”

  “Well, I mean, yeah,” Charlotte said. “Just because it’s difficult doesn’t mean it’s not worthwhile. Plus, I would’ve killed for someone to talk to in those days.”

  Jack was impressed. Not only at how Charlotte was making the best of her current situation, but at how she genuinely wanted to pursue a career to help people, no matter how hard the job was. She was so strong, yet easy to talk to. “Me, too,” Jack admitted, surprising himself. “I wish I could’ve had someone like you to confide in then, too.” Someone like her—so kind, so resourceful, and not to mention beautiful—may have actually gotten through to him.

  His admission made Charlotte pause for a second and he could’ve sworn she had a tear gathering in her eye. She cleared her throat. “Well, I’m done,” Charlotte stated, tipping the mug toward Jack. Only a mass of wet, golden brown tea leaves lay on the bottom. “What about you?”

  Jackson fidgeted with the mug’s handle, the cup still brimming full. “I uh...no, I’m not done yet.”

  “Well, here, we can do mine. Just for fun.” She passed him the mug. “Take a look.”

  Jack took the mug from her, his fingers grazing hers. He clenched his jaw as an unmistakable spark of electricity zinged up his arm.

  He tipped the mug on an angle and inspected it. In the bottom, it looked as if the leaves had formed two distinct swirl-like patterns.

  “It looks like two little tornados to me.” He shrugged slightly before passing the mug back. “But this is my first time doing this.”

  Charlotte smiled wide. “Hand it over to the professional,” she joked.

  She peered into the mug, her brow knitting for a second before she spoke.

  “I actually think you’re onto something,” she said. “But I see two people, not tornados. But they’re certainly in a flurry of movement.”

  He took the mug from her grasp. “Ah, I see,” he agreed, stroking an imaginary beard on his face. “The swirls could be limbs moving wildly together. Are you saying they may be doing the horizontal tango?”

  Charlotte threw her head back and laughed.

  “You know, Jack, you’re exactly the same as you were in high school. Same humor, same flirt,” she laughed. “Not that you ever flirted with me, of course, but I wish you had, now that I know how you felt back then.” Her gaze scanned his face. “Same eyes, same lips...” she whispered dreamily.

  She leaned into him and immediately a flurry of questions burned into his mind. She had the mark and was so close to him now—he had captured his target. All he had to do was breathe in deeply while kissing her and the process would begin. He could do what he needed to do. Should he just take what he needed from her and leave? End this, here and now and get off scot-free? After all, he’d done it once before, hadn’t he?

  But before he let his brain rule his actions, he closed his eyes and moved forward until he felt her lips on his. They were just as warm and sweet as he thought they would be. Her kiss erased all the questions in his mind. Intoxicated by her caress, he decided to kiss her back gently, normally, like a real person. He didn’t have it within him to breathe in with all his might, administer the kiss of death and see her crumple lifelessly to the floor—and in that moment, he realized he never would.

  Her mouth parted slightly and he deepened the kiss. For a moment, he worried if Charlotte’s ability to see him was still working—that she could feel him, his body no longer a wisp of vapor, but a real being. He didn’t dare open his eyes and find out. She silently answered the question when he felt her tongue ease into his mouth and begin to gently massage his before she gently bit his bottom lip and pulled away. When she sat up straight, her eyes were wild with hunger. She smiled at him as she breathed in deeply like she was almost out of breath. She was so damn gorgeous.

  “You’re very good at that,” she laughed before putting her hands on each side of his face and drawing him to her once more. He felt her smile against his lips before she kissed him again, slowly and softly, her lips sliding against his with the lightness of a feather.

  His hands trailed down her back as he gently eased her to lie back on the pillow underneath her. She immediately wrapped both her legs around his waist and he settled most of his weight onto the juncture between them. She groaned at feeling the pressure against the most intimate part of her.

  He kissed down her neck, dragging his lips across her delicate, porcelain skin. Charlotte sighed her approval as he kissed her there. He began to push his hips against her rhythmically, massaging her clit through her clothes, when all of a sudden he felt her hand on his as she removed it from her back and drew it up the front of her skirt.

  He let his fingers run up and down the length of her, over her damp cotton panties, a few times before he pushed the fabric aside and let his hand dive underneath. He heard Charlotte gasp.

  He pulled away to look at her. Charlotte’s eyes sparkled as she laughed breathily.

  “No, no, don’t stop. Your fingers are just cold. It feels good, actually.”

  “Don’t worry, I know a way to warm them up,” Jackson whispered against her lips.

  Jackson carefully pushed a few fingers into Charlotte’s warm, tight center as his thumb massaged her clit in small circles. Her breath went shallow as he increased his pace. He looked at Charlotte and saw that she’d tossed her head back, her eyes pinched shut. She was close. He began to slide himself down her body, intent on placing his head between her creamy thighs. Tasting her would bring her further over the edge. He felt dizzy with anticipation, but the feeling was interrupted when he thought he heard the sound of footfalls in Charlotte’s hallway.

  A loud pounding on the door startled them and Charlotte let out an involuntary shriek. The hammering outside sounded like metal hitting wood. Charlotte wriggled out from underneath him and ran to the door, standing on tiptoe to peer through the peephole. She opened the door and ducked out into the hallway, but whoever had been there must have run off. Frowning, she turned to walk back inside but stopped in her tracks. Her eyes widened.

  She brought her hands to her face. “Oh, noooooo. I can’t believe...” She trailed off, her voice growing more desperate.

  “What is it?” he asked.

  She tore a piece of bright yellow paper off the door.

  “An eviction notice.”

  It took a moment before her words sank in. This couldn’t be happening. “Ah, shit,” he said.

  “I know. The winter’s been really rough for me. It’s hard to bring in enough to cover my rent.” Charlotte crumpled the notice in her hand and tossed it dejectedly on the floor.

  “It’s all right, you’ll figure this out. We’ll figure this out. How long have they given you to move out? Thirty days?”

  “Tonight. They’ve given me ’til tonight.”

  “But that’s not possible. They can’t do that on the first eviction notice.”

  “You’re right, they can’t. But they can when it’s your third.”

  Jack hesitated. There was only one thing they could do. “Come on. Put your things together. You’re coming with me.”

  Chapter Four

  Charlotte had no idea where Jack was taking her. They had walked in the swirlin
g snow all the way to the Astor Place 6 train. Between not having earned anything during that day and Jack admitting he didn’t have his wallet on him, he helped her jump the turnstile, a wicked glint in his eye. Something told her he had done this many times before. She smirked as she lifted her long skirts to ease her way over, along with the two large bags of her belongings. It was turning out to be quite an eventful night, but nothing could dampen the high she felt after being kissed by Jack Holloway.

  At this time of night during the holiday week, the train was fairly empty. Jack snuck a reassuring kiss on her cheek and she shivered. He wrapped an arm around her and she leaned into his hard body. She was almost lulled to sleep by the feeling and the gentle rock of the train as it barreled through the large expanse of tunnels beneath the city. Not even twenty minutes ago, she’d been terrified to find that eviction notice nailed to her door. Now, here with Jack, she suddenly felt like everything was going to be okay.

  Her body was still singing with need. The way he touched her back in her now former apartment. It felt good. It felt right. And she needed more of it. She hoped that wherever he was taking her, he’d take her there fast. Because the only thing she wanted right now was to somewhere private so they could pick up exactly where they’d left off.

  When they reached 42nd Street, Jack took her hand and led her silently out of the train. After they climbed the stairs to street level, she found that they were walking west, towards Fifth Avenue. The large white tents of the Bryant Park holiday fair, lit with clear, sparkling lights, seemed to blend right into the snow falling around them. She remembered going there with her parents once. Hundreds of tourists popped in and out of the little shops, hot chocolate clutched in their mitten-clad hands. But the fair was closed at this hour—its pathways eerily empty, clear of all patrons. Like a winter ghost town.