Page 58

“Yes. Fine.” She smiled up at him. “And you? You’re sure you won’t get in trouble for missing your shift?”

“Nah. They owe me a few sick days. Apparently Kaitlyn calls in sick every other day, and somehow she still has a job. Besides, I think where I’m needed most right now is here, with you.”

Devra rested her head on his shoulder. She watched through the window as her city rolled by. Vibrant streaks of red and green shone bright from the Calgary Tower in a dynamic pattern, while warm white lights glowed from the windows of surrounding skyscrapers. And Devra thought, perhaps for the first time in her life, how beautiful the cityscape looked at night in December. As the bus ride continued, snowfall turned to sleet, to a heavy rain, until a soothing drizzle pattered against the windows. Devra nuzzled into Bradley, closed her eyes, and was surprised to wake hours later after an undisturbed sleep.

They arrived at the Waterworth Cafe with an hour to spare. The entranceway was a gaping mouth of glittering chandeliers and smooth red-oak finishings. Devra alternated between shifting uncomfortably on the leather ottoman by the front door and pacing the lobby, all the while nibbling her nails and growing tired of telling the hostess they were happy to wait for the rest of their party to arrive before being taken to their non-existent reservation.

“Remember to breathe. That’s what my therapist is always telling me. Just try to breathe through it, Bradley.”

But the enormity of the confrontation she was about to have was a vise around her lungs. What exactly did she want to say to this woman? Did she want to yell or cry or feign indifference, pretend her mother hadn’t contributed to her precarious mental health?

Devra should focus on the curse, really. That’s why they were here, despite the childlike Why did you leave me, Mommy? that kept circling around her mind. Who knew how much time they would have with the oh-so-important Charlotte Montgomery. Devra had to make each question count and not get distracted.

But maybe this was about more than just preventing new injuries. Perhaps it was an opportunity to heal old wounds as well.

“Hey.” Bradley grabbed her arm, which drew her thumb away from her mouth. She realized she’d bitten through her nail and into the skin, a droplet of blood bubbling upward. “It’s going to be okay. You just need to breathe. In and out.”

She attempted a few laboured breaths. Bradley shot an all’s well smile at the hostess, who did not return it but did avert her wary gaze.

Devra allowed herself to be coaxed back to the ottoman, where Bradley leaned close and whispered, “Look, I know you’re nervous, but we don’t want to come off as suspicious and have the hostess kick us out.”

Devra nodded. But she kept nodding, her head bobbing up and down in an anxious tic. She had too much energy to sit still. She tried to get up again, desperate to pace, but Bradley tugged her back down onto his lap. When she kept squirming, he wrapped his arms around her waist.

“Hmm…” His breath tickled her ear. “Maybe we should find a more relaxing way to pass the time?” The drop in his tone, the rough edge, snagged her attention. She was suddenly aware of each point of contact between them, the firmness of his body beneath hers. “I think I might have an idea.”

At that, he pushed them both up to standing, took her hand, and tugged her away from the hostess stand. He led her down a short corridor off to the side of the restaurant.

“Where are we going?” she asked, even as her heart raced with anticipation. “My mother could be here any minute.”

Bradley glanced at his phone. “We’ve got thirty minutes before she’s supposed to arrive. Not to mention if she does show up, she’s probably planning to stay awhile.” He was testing doorknobs, opening and closing the doors. “Regardless, there’s a whole lot I can get done in thirty minutes. Ah, perfect!” With a quick glance over his shoulder, he tugged her into a coat closet.

The second he locked the door behind them, his hands were at her hips. Strong arms lifted her off her feet. She wrapped her legs around his waist, and he pressed her up against the wall, her back hitting smooth wood as their mouths crashed together. Lips devoured and tongues slashed. Long woollen coats cocooned around them as he pushed his body tight to hers, strong muscles flexing with effort and arousal. His lower body grew hard against her, and desire quickly consumed her, overshadowing her anxiety.

Jackets fell as Bradley tumbled them toward a console table and dropped her onto it. One hand gripped into her hair, tugging just hard enough to tingle her scalp, while the other travelled lower, rounding her breast, thumbing her nipple. All while he kissed her raw. He bit her lip gently, and then not so gently, fierce and hungry, like he needed this as badly as she did, needed her. His hands grew frantic as they grabbed at every part of her. Rough and delightful.

“Tell me if it’s too much,” he murmured against her lips.

“There could never be too much of you.” She pressed her palm to him, feeling his cock straining against the fabric of his pants. “Then again, I could be wrong.”

She read the shape of his mouth against hers and could picture his smile as clear as if she were admiring it from afar, noting how the left side rose higher in an uneven quirk that was attractive as hell.

Bradley tugged up her shirt, unclipped her bra. He pressed his lips to her bare chest, making wet, hot circles around tender nipples. He bit down, and she bucked forward, the pressure perfect, a sensation of danger rather than pain. She was so consumed by her arousal, by the intoxicating patterns of his tongue, she barely noticed him removing her other layers until his finger was sliding in, unimpeded, welcomed by her wetness. His entry was agonizingly slow compared to the roughness of his mouth, his stubble scraping her skin, as he let her body open up and adapt to the feel of him. But when she let out a contented moan, he shuddered against her and his urgency built. He pressed harder, moved faster, causing her to shiver as she fumbled to pop the button of his jeans. She bucked against his hand as she fought with his zipper, a hot ache building between her thighs.

When she finally sprang him free, her heartbeat went erratic, stuttering at the thrill of holding him in her hand. The closeness of him. The thickness of him. These forgotten pleasures. All the new ones she could experience with him, dirtier and lovelier than her rawest fantasies. She gripped him tight, exploring his length, squeezing the smooth steel of him in her palm, all while his finger pulsed inside her, the pressure building. She was close. So close. But she wanted more, she wanted this inside her. She wanted him in her mouth, she realized, a yearning she couldn’t explain but felt deep inside like the pressing of his fingers. It struck her with a start that if she wanted it, she could have it.

Devra pushed him back, lowered herself from the console table, and dropped to her knees.

“What are you—?”

She took him into her mouth, and his words were cut off by an unrestrained groan. Bradley’s hands drifted into her hair as she licked and sucked. “You…you don’t have to…” She almost laughed. Have to? God, she wanted to. Badly. She moved her mouth up and down, tasting him, swallowing him, loving how he pulsed and twitched at her whim, at her command.

She felt in control.

Something she’d lost long ago. Something stolen from her by one tragedy after another. A sense of control. Such a powerful small thing.

And she had it now, as he bucked and squirmed under the pressure of her lips.

“God, Devra, you feel—I can’t—” He appeared to be fighting to restrain his movements, to keep his baser instincts reined in as he gripped two fistfuls of her hair and pushed himself a notch deeper. “I don’t think…I can’t—I can’t hold on any longer.”