Captured Memories: Cupid’s Cafe, Book Three

by Katherine McIntyre

  Liv lunged in—those lips pressed to his and all restraint flew out the door.

  5

  The moment the warmth of Zane’s hand soaked through the thin cotton of Liv’s dress, his possessive grip spurred her to action. Even though she’d been a tundra inside for so long, Z brought her body to life with exquisite precision, dosing her with the heady awareness she’d believed lost. But by God, she had longed for that sense of normalcy so, so much, of a time before she was broken.

  She pressed her lips against his, the softness a surprise as adrenaline swept through her body in an all-encompassing rush. His grip around her waist tightened, those big hands making her feel safe all while she dipped a toe over the edge of a cliff. The bristles of his beard brushed against her chin, a rough contrast to his smooth lips that enhanced her senses. Z smelled like sweat and sage, the scent causing warmth to coil in her core and her pulse to quicken, all while she drank in the taste of him, of smoke and pepper and memories.

  The fabric of her dress bunched as his grip tightened, and he pulled himself nearer. This close and personal, he towered over her, packing powerful, coiled muscle she wanted to wrap herself around. He kissed her with the ferocity of all the longing that squeezed her insides tight, his tongue slipping through the seam of her lips. She returned his attention just as desperately, the spark between them igniting into an explosion. Maybe she didn’t know why he left, maybe he didn’t know her secrets, but right now none of that mattered.

  Right now, she was given a second chance away from the constant problems pounding at her doorstep. Right now, she didn’t want to think about the future, she just wanted to feel something wild and deep, something with fire enough to thaw the ice encasing her heart. Her knees wobbled at the intensity unfurling between them, and she stumbled back. He moved with her, never losing the grip around her waist that kept her upright when she bumped against the counter.

  The years melted away as they kissed, each clash of their lips like he was breathing life into her once more, like her hopes hadn’t shattered on the rocks years ago. Like she was still sixteen and could almost reach the sky full of stars.

  He hoisted her onto the counter, and her pulse quickened, her heartbeat hammering in her chest with a need only he could sate. Even as she sank into the fevered kisses between them, wetness spread between her legs, and her core wound tight. She braced her hands on the countertop, her dress shifting so the cool surface pressed against her bare thighs, a contrast to the heavy heat in the air.

  She lost herself in the way they came together, how his big body pressed hers against the counter, the feel of those taut, tanned muscles making her all the hotter. He leaned to the side of her neck, nipping the bare skin. Her nipples tightened, and she squeezed her thighs tighter around him in response to the pleasure that shot through her. Even with the loose pants he wore, his erection strained against the fabric, intensifying the building ache for him deep inside.

  The masculine scent of him, all sweat and a musk that was uniquely Z’s drew her in like a moth to the flame. She drank in the taste of him with each delirious kiss. Her knees trembled, but the countertop kept her steady, as well as the way he braced her against his cabinets. Her fingers curled into his shoulders, her nails biting into the hard muscle as she let out a low moan.

  “God, I want you,” he murmured against her mouth.

  “I’m all yours, babe,” she whispered. “I always have been.” Her heart ached at the admission, but the words slipped out anyway. They’d reached the point of no return, and she wanted to throw herself into the fire until the flames melted away the years of ice that claimed her. The way he made her feel, made her yearn—like she had been drowning all these years to get a gasp of air at last. And God, she wanted more. She reached for his waistband, tugging down the zipper of his pants.

  His gaze flashed, the depth of emotion in those green eyes reminding her how far she’d once fallen for him. How despite the easy smile and smooth bravado Zane used to wield, a storm brewed beneath, one powerful enough to sweep her away. The layers between them were too much. She wanted more. Needed him.

  He let loose a growl that reverberated against her lips as he lifted her arms above her head, pinning her against the cabinets.

  Her heart soared up, up, up—only to plummet to the icy deeps.

  Panic surged through her in a violent sweep, uncontrollable.

  She breathed in the thick vanilla scent, tasted the film coating her mouth, and before she could stop herself, Liv lashed out. Her nails clawed at the hands holding her back, at the person standing in front of her, and bile rose in her throat. Her heart raced, and her mind whirled as the driving pulse to escape reigned. She had to get away.

  A shout sounded as the obstacle stepped out of the way. Liv leapt off the counter, her soles hitting the ground with a reverberating thud that traveled through her shins. Before she could bolt, dizziness swirled her surroundings, and she threw her hands out.

  Reality came crushing in all too fast.

  Gone was the heat, gone was the comfort, and gone was Zane Parata’s touch as he stood away from her, his hands up in defense and vibrant red scratches down his arms.

  Liv’s mouth dropped in horror, a wide, gaping nightmare she couldn’t run from, one that had come to dominate her entire life.

  “What’s wrong?” Zane asked, his voice harsh with worry and his eyes wide with fear.

  Liv’s shoulders pumped up and down in the wake of her explosion as heaving, ragged breaths heated her dry lips. The adrenaline which spiked so hard seconds ago came crashing down. The dizzying swill left her scraping the bottom like it always did, a smash to the floor that devastated her into pieces she didn’t know if she’d be able to put back together.

  “Fuck.” Her voice grew thick as her throat tightened, and hot tears pricked her eyes. She wanted this. She wanted him so, so badly and had believed maybe for once, her body would cooperate. That she wouldn’t be some freak incapable of even a hookup with the one guy on this planet she still believed in. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

  Shame flushed through her in a fierce sweep, and her hands balled into fists at her side. Tears escaped, stinging her eyes and leaving hot trails down her cheeks even as she hated herself more. Liv sagged against his cool kitchen wall while the moment between them shattered. All the longing, all the hope that had snuck through her defenses hurt all the harder now in the wake of this failure. At screwing up the one chance she’d gotten to escape the complicated mess her life had become.

  “Livs, are you okay?” Zane asked, taking a step closer. His hands were lifted in caution, but he didn’t touch her, as if he were taming some feral beast. Not like she could blame him after the angry marks she’d left on his skin. Her nails still tingled from the way she’d lashed out. Her knees wobbled, and she sank to the floor, the tears streaming down her cheeks unchecked as her shoulders shook. All the bravado in the world couldn’t recover this situation.

  The bastard had ruined her. A couple years had passed since she dropped out of college, but one bad night and she’d been changed forever, ruined from ever feeling like herself again.

  Zane’s eyes flashed with concern, his mouth drawn and serious as he crouched to the floor in front of her. “Did I do something wrong?” he asked.

  The fear in his tone, the quiet hesitation destroyed her, and she cried even harder. Sobs wracked her body even as she hated herself for crying. Even as she hated showing this weakness in front of anyone, especially him. How on earth could he think it was him? Zane had been there during all her teenage drama with his solid presence, those bone-squeezing hugs, and focused attention that brought her to life whenever she felt too invisible. She could feel his self-loathing descend as strongly as her own, the pinch of his lips and the ragged swallow undoing her.

  Liv forced herself to shake her head even as tremors rumbled through her, the crash of the adrenaline hitting in force. How could she ever explain to him how broken she’d become? The thought of diving int
o that past made her throat tighten and made her mind scream. Crazy girl was the badge she wore now, a warning to all men who dared interact with her.

  He settled his hand on her knee, tentatively at first, as if worrying she’d lash out when he touched her. Not like she blamed him. She covered her mouth with her hand, trying to stifle her sobs, trying to rein herself in from this ugliness he’d witnessed. This had all been a mistake. Hoping, believing herself fixed for even a heartbeat—a terrible mistake.

  The heat from his palm settled her, care she didn’t deserve. Not after she’d sliced into him with her nails like little more than a wild animal.

  “Not you,” she managed, needing to banish the guilt in his eyes, needing him to understand her outburst wasn’t his fault. That it had never been his fault, even if she couldn’t force the words out. Understanding darkened his eyes all too fast as the conclusions hit him. His brows furrowed, his grip on her knee tightened, and a deep, deep rage sparked in those green eyes.

  Shame pinked her cheeks already sticky with tears. Her eyes began to dry, but in the wake of the torrent of emotion buffeting through her, only an aching hollowness remained. Liv forced a shaky breath down in an attempt to calm herself. The outburst still resounded through his apartment in the rife silence that descended between them.

  “Who did it?” he asked. Everyone asked the question when the truth came marching in whether she ever stated the words or not. After a time, most of her closest friends pieced together what had happened, even though the response always dried on trembling lips before she could ever force it out.

  Like a name would give them some peace. Like the who mattered in the end. After all, the asshole who did this to her probably didn’t freeze up over stupid shit. He wasn’t waking up in a cold sweat and stuck in nightmares on an endless loop. He didn’t carry the invisible scars with him on a daily basis. Before him, she’d been whole, she’d been strong—and now she was broken, fighting every day to glue together the pieces.

  “I’ve got to go,” she murmured, rising on shaky legs. “I-I can’t do this right now.”

  Zane opened his mouth to protest but silenced once their eyes met. She must have looked like shit, because all of his efforts to fight ceased at once. Liv ran her hands down the front of her dress, smoothing out the wrinkles in the skirt over and over, like that would help in the slightest. The damage had been done, and Zane had seen all of her ugliness paraded out on Front Street. The dreams that surfaced upon meeting up with him again winked out of existence, stars darkening for good.

  Without another word, Liv strode out of his apartment. He’d walked away the first time, and he’d been right to do so then. Some people were too damaged to fix.

  In the days following her stupid-as-hell idea to meet up with Zane, Liv had achieved full zombie status.

  She’d scheduled one photo shoot for today with a coffee shop up the street who was introducing a new line of products and needed some snaps for their website. The camera bag hung heavy along her shoulder as she walked back to her apartment, and the sunlight did little to penetrate the cold saturating her marrow. She’d worked on automatic back there, the click-click of her camera ringing hollow as she worked, as hollow as she’d become.

  She locked her Subaru and heaved a sigh, wishing she could rewind to last week when her guards were still up and her defenses high. Before she’d made the stupid mistake of getting her hopes up. Her teal locks didn’t bring her the delight they normally did as she caught their glimmer in the sun, the way the shades shifted with each step. The entire world had turned to black and white, devoid of color and light, devoid of everything she loved to explore through her camera lens.

  Liv hadn’t experienced a setback like this since those early days after the night it all went down, when she’d hidden inside her dimmed apartment in a world of gray shadows and refused to come out. Lex and her folks had been worried sick, but months had passed before she could bring herself to explain to them what happened—and even then, the words gummed in her mouth, coming out awkward and stumbling.

  Some asshole camped out on the front stoop of her apartment building, stretching his long legs down a couple steps and placing him in the way of anyone who tried to go in and out of the building.

  Liv’s jaw clenched. She wasn’t in the mood to deal with human beings at the moment.

  Until she stepped closer.

  Zane Parata sat on her stoop, hunched forward with his elbows digging grooves on his thighs and a faraway look in those gorgeous green eyes. She came to a halt in front of him, and his gaze lifted to meet hers.

  “You’re not the only one capable of being stubborn, Livs.”

  6

  Ever since that night, Zane’s chest burned with a rage that couldn’t be quelled, one that drove the urge for the bottle even stronger. He’d called his sponsor four or five times and attended every meeting he could outside of work. Even still, his feet dragged each time he passed by the neons on the discount liquor shop. When Livs told him back in the Café that she had a rough go, he would’ve never have imagined the girl he loved had gone through those horrors.

  Rage mingled with shame, fueling his own insufficiencies. If he had never gotten locked up or been a fuck-up like his father, maybe he could have pursued something with Liv Morozov. Maybe he could have prevented her from getting scarred like this.

  He hunched forward on the doorstep of her apartment complex, looking up at the woman who’d run out of his place mere days ago.

  Liv’s jaw dropped in surprise. Her teal curls were pulled back in a sloppy bun, and rings circled her eyes, giving her a haunted look, like she hadn’t gotten a wink of sleep. Based on the beast of a camera hanging around her neck, she must have come from a job. With the storm brewing inside him, he had to summon every ounce of courage to face her, but he needed to be here. Zane had abandoned her once, and the worst happened. After the way she’d broken — after the way she’d shattered—watching her crumble had been like looking into a mirror, and he couldn’t let her plummet to those depths alone.

  “Z, you’re better off running as fast as you can in the opposite direction,” she said, steeling her jaw. Despite the brittle edge to her voice, he didn’t miss the way those blue eyes wavered. “We’ve reconnected, so now you know. I’m way too much to handle.” The harsh rasp in her voice broke his heart, the echo of pain and self-loathing he understood so well.

  Zane quirked an eyebrow. “Isn’t that my choice? I get a say in what I can handle.” She sucked in a shaky breath, and her lips pressed tight together rather than respond. Liv’s stare burned with the ferocity of the ugly emotions that stormed in his own chest, a toxic brew he’d been drinking for so long. “I want another date,” he said with a surprising steadiness in his voice as he locked eyes with her.

  “Sure you do,” she shot, placing her hands on her hips. “Want another sob-fest from me or more bodily harm? Those scratches look pretty fresh.” The bitterness in her tone ached him, like she’d become frozen from the inside out. Still, for once, he remained steady.

  “Oh this?” he lifted his arm. “That’s nothing compared to the scar I have on my side from when I got stabbed back in prison. Hell, sweetheart, you’d have to try a lot harder to leave any real damage—you’re one of the only folks who knows why my knuckles are as scarred as they are or why the arthritis set in early.” To say he wasn’t sad when the cops found his father passed out dead in an alley would put it mildly—Zane had nearly rejoiced.

  Her gaze darkened, and she heaved a sigh before running a hand through her tangled curls. “But I’m a mess,” she tried to argue.

  He didn’t bother restraining the smirk that rose to his face, his gaze heating with challenge. “I want the real deal. Sound familiar?” He spouted her words back at her, meaning them more than ever. He didn’t want any pretensions, none of the superficial posturing that came with a normal date. He wanted the girl who once made his blood burn with desire and the one who’d become an even more complex
and nuanced woman.

  He might be a train wreck waiting to happen, but he’d let her make the call to walk away. Her rejection would rip him in two—hell, he’d been on the receiving end of the ‘I can’t handle your damage’ speech more times than he wanted to count. However, he refused to make her go through the agony. Refused to shatter her further after the hell his Livs had been through.

  Liv shook her head, a half-smile rolling to her face. “I should have expected that one.”

  He grinned back, revealing teeth. “Yeah, you should’ve. Now are you going to invite me in or what?”

  She hopped over his leg up the step and strode to the front door, her keys jangling in her hand. “Don’t expect the fancy food you make,” she said, not glancing to him.

  His heartbeat sped as he rose before following her inside the building, the faint scent of cat piss permeating the foyer. The jagged edge of hope sliced through him yet again, despite the defenses he maintained and despite the boundaries he put in place. Hope led to disappointment and the bottle, a lesson he’d learned again and again, but like his father always said—lessons never stuck with Zane Parata.

  He sauntered up the stairs after her to the second floor corridor she strolled down, not looking back. Her torn jeans and oversized Iron Maiden tee was a far cry from the dresses and skirts he’d seen her in before, but this stoked his desire even more. Something could be said for leaving the masks behind, for ditching the pretense at being okay.

  Liv opened her apartment door, and he followed her inside, only to be serenaded with a chorus of yowls from the little gray tabby that appeared. He crouched and put his hand out as the cat approached to nudge at his fingers, erupting in a cavalcade of purrs. He glanced up to see Liv’s eyes on him, softened from the ice cold she’d displayed outside.