Chapter Ten
I knew who it was pounding on the door before I opened it—and not just because the Wilde mansion had video security. I seriously considered not opening the door. I didn’t want to after the conversation I’d overheard between Kirsten and Dean. Who could blame me? And yet, I opened the door.
“I brought booze,” Kirsten said, holding up a bottle of whiskey and swirling the contents as she did. It was clear she’d already helped herself to some alcohol if her frenetic energy and dilated pupils were anything to go by.
“Clearly.”
“Aren’t you going to let me in? You are my lawyer, after all. You can’t say no.”
“Considering it’s after office hours, I’d say I can,” I replied, though I moved aside and let Kirsten in nonetheless, following her along the hallway that led to the kitchen or the ground floor living room. When Kirsten headed toward the stairs, I grabbed her wrist without thinking. “Where are you going?”
She looked at me as if it were obvious. Her green eyes glittered with amusement in the low light of the hallway. “To your bedroom—where else?”
I ran a hand over my face. “Kirsten, what are you doing? Why are you doing this? It isn’t professional.”
“Neither was the way you spoke to me and Dean earlier,” she hit back immediately, which was true. “But I’m not here to complain. I’m here to clear the air. So drink with me.”
“But why in my bedroom?”
Kirsten glanced down towards the living room. “The rooms down here are too big for two people. And besides, your bedroom reminds me of good old times, playing board games and doing our homework and sneaking our first few beers together.”
Her comment made me laugh despite myself, and then Kirsten knew she’d won. It always struck me as odd that our families were at war and somehow we’d found peace. While my father didn’t like her presence, he did like to rub her visits in Liam’s face every time he got a chance.
“Head on up, then,” I said, “I’ll grab a couple glasses.”
“Glasses? Very classy, Rafe.”
“We don’t all want to swig from the bottle as much as you do.”
“Blame Ian for that.”
“I know. Now go on up.”
I made a stop in the ground floor bathroom first and checked my appearance in the mirror. My hair was a little longer than I usually let it grow, but it had been swept away from my face for work for so long, I’d simply forgotten to get it cut. Now, free of product after the shower I’d only gotten out of half an hour ago, the top of my hair fell over my forehead—some of it was almost touching my eyes.
It made me look younger. It made me feel nostalgic.
Nostalgic if I ignored the shadows under my eyes that gave away my tired and stressful career. How could it be that Kirsten’s eyes hadn’t darkened from stress, too? She seemed ageless somehow, despite the fact that she was easily under as much stress as I was on a regular basis. She was beautiful, with her red-brown hair and flawless skin, punctuated with a tiny spray of freckles across her nose that only made her more stunning.
And those eyes. They were nothing like my dark ones, which were currently boring through the mirror right back at me. Kirsten was all lightness and laughter and saving stray kittens and secret plots to prank our brothers. I was the moody, quiet one she forced out of his shell years ago. I might not have become the person I was if not for Kirsten O’Leary.
That was why it stung so damn much that I might actually have lost her to Dean. I sighed at my reflection. If that was what Kirsten had come to tell me, it was time for me to take it like a man.
Stopping only to grab two glasses from the kitchen, I made my way up the stairs to my bedroom, where Kirsten lay on my bed—waiting—for me.
She was lying on my bed. This woman was impossible.
“What? Was the giant sofa in front of the bay window not enough for you, O’Leary?” I mused as I pushed Kirsten over enough for me to sit on the bed beside her. She skillfully poured a stream of whiskey into the two glasses in my hand. I promptly downed the contents of one of the glasses before filling it up again.
“Clearly, I was right to come over with booze.” Kirsten laughed as she continued to swig whiskey from the bottle despite having a glass of the stuff in her other hand.
“Yes, because alcohol is never a bad idea.”
“You certainly don’t seem to think so right now if the rate you’re drinking the stuff is anything to go by.”
“On the contrary,” I mused, “it’s because it’s a terrible idea I’m drinking.”
Kirsten clinked her glass with mine. “I’ll drink to that.”
There was silence for a few minutes as the two of us drank more whiskey. Watching Kirsten out of the corner of my eye, I could tell she was waiting for me to speak.
Guess it’s time to ask, then.
“So…you and Dean are a real thing now?”
Kirsten almost spat out her drink. “Christ almighty, you jump to conclusions pretty quickly, don’t you?”
“What do you mean?”
“Dean did say he liked me, yeah. And I admit, I can’t believe I didn’t notice it before—”
“Kirsten, Ian and I noticed it within two seconds. How unaware can you be?”
“And whose fault do you think that is?”
“What the hell do you mean?”
Kirsten turned to face me, her expression fierce.
“The only reason I never noticed Dean’s feelings was that I was too involved in my feelings for you,” she said, jabbing a finger into my chest as she did. “But we’re not ‘allowed’ to be together, so of course I’ve got to try to move on. Why else do you think I’d tell him I’d consider his feelings?”
“So you’re going to—”
“My God, why do you always hear one thing I say and assume it means another, Rafe? I’m not going out with him. I said I’d think about it at some point after all this shit-storm of a drug bust is over. And he was the one who said I had to think about myself first, not me. That’s how conscientious he is…unlike someone else I know.”
“If I’m so awful, then why do you like me so much?” I knew I sounded like a child, but I couldn’t help it. I was jealous, plain and simple.
Kirsten saw right through me. I realized far too late she could tell and half the reason she’d said anything to me this evening was to bait me into showing my true feelings.
Kirsten smirked. “Unlike with anyone else, Rafe Wilde, I know what you think of me. I don’t need anybody else to point it out. That’s why the only way we could hide our feelings was to literally ignore one another for four years, but I’m done with that.”
“Is that so?” I asked, downing another glass of whiskey in the process. I could tell where this was going—could tell I had to stop it—but not a single bone in my body wanted to.
Kirsten was sitting in front of me, gorgeous even in a zip-up hoodie and shorts, her full bottom lip caught between her teeth as she looked at me. I imagined tasting the whiskey on those lips, and before I knew it, I could feel a roiling heat down beneath my stomach that had nothing to do with the alcohol.
Kirsten leaned in closer to me. “Don’t look at me like this is a mistake, Rafe,” she murmured, so close to my lips that I’d barely have to move to kiss them. “How could two people who have wanted each other for this long be a mistake?”
I didn’t know if it was because of the alcohol or because of my deep-seated feelings for Kirsten or frustration—or all three of the above—but I completely agreed with her. Wanting Kirsten could never be a mistake.
She barely had a second’s notice before I snaked a hand through her hair and closed the gap between us, crushing her lips beneath mine and finally tasting the whiskey upon them.
I was sure to regret this in the morning, but right now I didn’t care.
Chapter Eleven
It felt like I was dreaming. Or maybe it was the alcohol…maybe both. Probably both. But Rafe Wilde was kissing me. A
nd damn, was he good at it. How many years had I imagined this? It felt far longer than I could remember.
I ran a hand through Rafe’s hair as he was doing to mine, pulling him in closer, closer, closer. But it wasn’t enough. I wanted more. Funny how things happened like that—I finally got to fulfill my dream of kissing the guy I’d been pining after for most of my life, and it was suddenly, abruptly inadequate.
I wanted to see our clothes littering the floor, ripped off our bodies in reckless abandon in our desperation for each other.
Well. No time like the present.
My hand drifted from Rafe’s hair down over his grey T-shirt, snaking underneath the hem to allow my fingers to explore the planes of his body unencumbered. His skin was smooth, his body sculpted. This was the body of a man who took care of himself. The fire that had been building inside me all evening flared up. I wanted Rafe. I wanted him more than anything, and I needed him to know that.
“Rafe…” I murmured against his lips. He circled one of his arms around my waist as he set me down on the bed and lay on top of me, his fingers making quick work of the zipper on my hoodie. With a shrug, I threw the garment off, then slid Rafe’s T-shirt up and over his head, throwing it unceremoniously to the floor.
We were really going to do this. I thought my heart might burst with excitement.
“I wish I could quit you,” Rafe said quietly, his voice rough and unsteady as he broke away from my lips to glance downwards, his eyebrows raised. I don’t think he’d expected me to have nothing but a bra on underneath my hoodie, leaving me exposed now that he’d removed it.
I reached up and bit his upper lip. “No, you don’t. Other people want that for you. Not you.”
“Why are you always right, Kirsten?”
“It’s a gift. You should really listen to me more. But…”
“But?”
I gave Rafe a wicked grin. “Talking and listening isn’t what I want to do right now.”
Rafe matched my grin before kissing me again with renewed fervor, the skin-on-skin contact from removing the top half of our clothes made me all the more desperate for the man on top of me. I could feel him rock hard, against my leg. I bucked up into him, causing Rafe to moan slightly.
“Kirsten…”
I ran my fingers underneath the waistband of the sweatpants he wore, wishing they were already off. I needed Rafe in me. I needed—
“Kirsten.” Rafe’s voice was louder now. More insistent. Reluctantly, I looked up at him, knowing I wouldn’t like the expression on his face. I was right.
“Don’t tell me to stop, Rafe,” I pleaded. “Don’t you dare.”
“We can’t do this. We can’t.”
I wriggled free of him to sit up on the bed, feeling my face heat up in anger and shame.
“Even now, going this far, you still can’t? What the hell has to change for you to man the hell up and just be with me like you want?”
“Kirsten, I’m your lawyer! Ignoring everything else, I’m your lawyer. Surely, you can see how this is problematic? If the detective and court catch even a hint of this attraction between the two of us, they’ll have cause to throw the entire case I’m building for you under the proverbial bus. And I can’t see you go to prison. I won’t.”
I stared at Rafe, speechless—how was it this had completely escaped me? I’d been so involved in my own feelings, I hadn’t considered what this would do to Rafe’s career—or to my freedom.
How was it possible to be so self-absorbed, I could actually ruin my own life?
And still, I wanted him. Tears stung my eyes, threatening to escape, but I didn’t care.
“Rafe, I lo—”
“Don’t do this, Kirsten. Please.”
“Rafe!”
“Wait until I’ve cleared your name,” he roared back, causing me to recoil. “You know how I feel about you. You’ve got to realize how hard this is on me, too, but we’ve got to do the right thing. You know we do.”
I knew he was right, but I didn’t want to accept it. I ran my hands through my hair, frantic. I didn’t want to have to think about our families and the mob and this stupid set-up of a case against me. I just wanted to be with him. I lowered my head, staring at my knees but seeing nothing.
“Run away with me.”
I knew he was frowning at me even though I couldn’t see it. “What did you just say?” he asked quietly.
I threw my head up to stare at him. “Run away with me. Screw that I can’t leave Vegas. If this whole drug thing against me is a set-up, I’m probably in danger anyway.” It was so easy to believe what I was saying when it was at least partially true. I continued. “You can practice law anywhere. The same for me and veterinary medicine. So let’s leave.”
Rafe said nothing for a few moments. “Are you serious?”
“Yes.”
“Really serious?”
“Yes.”
Rafe looked away and laughed a little crazily, then he picked his T-shirt up off the floor and flung my hoodie at me. “Then screw it, let’s do it.”
Wait. What? “Y-you’re okay with this?”
Rafe pulled his T-shirt back on before wandering around his room, flinging clothes and miscellaneous items into a small bag.
“You’re right, Kirsten. If this was a set-up and it’s mob related, then there’s no promise this won’t happen again to you in the future. We both want out of this stupid life, so let’s just…do it.”
My excitement from earlier started bubbling up again, this time for entirely different reasons.
“I need to grab some stuff from my apartment.”
“That’s no problem. We’ll swing by there first, then we’ll get the hell out of Vegas.”
Clearly, Rafe was ignoring the fact that we’d both been drinking. I was fine with that. We were allowed to be reckless. It was about time we were reckless.
When I stood up and re-zipped my hoodie, Rafe surprised me by picking me up and spinning me around, kissing me as I laughed in surprise.
“Ian is gonna be pissed,” Rafe joked, “and he’ll be the least of our worries.”
“Eloping wouldn’t be eloping if you weren’t running away from at least a couple of problems.”
“I guess you’re right.” Rafe kissed my forehead, then put me back on my feet. Taking my hand in his, he led me out of his room, down the stairs, across the hallway, and into the adjoining garage. It was a huge space, full of expensive, vintage sports cars. But Rafe took me over to a car that stood out by virtue of it being a ‘normal’ car—a red Audi Quattro.
Rafe gave me a meaningful glance. “I think this has always been here as an emergency getaway car. Boring and not ostentatious in the slightest.”
“I actually like them, to be honest,” I said with a small smile. “They’re pretty nice cars.”
Rafe laughed. “Of course you have cheap taste in cars.”
“As long as it will take me from A to B without falling apart, it’s fine by me.”
I could almost hear the pounding of Rafe’s heart in the darkness of the garage. It matched the tempo of mine. With a flick of a switch, the garage doors opened and Rafe threw his bag into the back seat, opening the passenger door to let me in before sliding over the hood to reach the driver’s side.
“Smooth,” I said as he started up the engine.
“I may have practiced that a few times as a teen to impress you. I somehow never got to do it in front of you though.”
“Absolutely tragic.”
He revved the engine, moved the car into first gear, and then we were gone.
We were really doing this. We were going to leave Las Vegas.
The drive over to my apartment was possibly the most exciting drive I’d ever experienced. Certainly the most liberating. The two of us were laughing, singing along to rock music on the radio and sneaking kisses every time we had to stop at a red light.
I felt like we were ten years younger than we actually were, starting our relationship for real in ou
r teens like we should have been able to. We had so much lost time to make up for.
Running away no longer seemed like a stupid, fanciful escape—it was the right thing to do. Rafe and I belonged together. If that was a problem for anyone else…well. Soon, they’d no longer be a problem for us.
I spared a moment’s thought for Dean, who in reality didn’t wish either Rafe or me any harm. I knew if I told him I loved Rafe and it would be unfair to try to reciprocate his feelings, he would understand. He was a good guy.
It made me feel just a tiny bit guilty we were leaving without so much as a word of warning to anyone. That feeling was gone almost as soon as I felt it. Rafe and I had to do what was right for us.
In a haze of excitement and residual alcohol, we reached my apartment before I was ready to get there. I was almost tempted to tell Rafe to continue driving—I could buy clothes and anything else I needed anywhere. But I had important things in my apartment I really needed to pick up. My passport, I.D., savings account details, and a framed photo of my mother and me. It was the only one in my possession—the one thing I could never replace.
I resisted the urge to tell Rafe to drive on, and he slowed the Audi to a halt in front of my apartment building. I turned to face him, smiling before planting a kiss on his lips.
“As soon as we’re out of Vegas, you can bet your ass we’re continuing where we left off in your bedroom, Rafe.”
“I’d be extremely disappointed if we didn’t.”
I laughed. “Great. Now that we have that established, I won’t be inside long. Like, less than five minutes, so stay out here in the car with the engine running so I really feel like I’m escaping in the middle of the night.”
“Kirsten, it’s barely eight.”
I rolled my eyes. “You get what I mean, spoilsport,” he responded by ruffling my hair.
“Don’t take long. And remember to pack some leggings or something—you’re gonna get cold in those shorts pretty fast.”
“Yes, Dad.”
Rafe winced. “I don’t think I’m into the daddy kink, so maybe lay off that.”
Betting On Us (Wilde Love Book 3) Page 7
