Love Cursed

by Julia Derek

  “No, it’s the lasagna I made for dinner,” I said. “I made lots of it. Are you hungry?”

  He licked his mouth, telling me all I needed to know. And also making my knees so weak I feared they might not hold me up much longer.

  “Okay, you’re staying for dinner,” I said and patted his shoulder, hoping this gesture would make my words seem friendly only, as much for my sake as for his.

  “Um, okay,” he said, looking like he was happy I’d offered. “I’d love some. I’m actually starving.”

  “Well, my lasagna will take care of that. But let me show you where the dress is in my closet so we can get it down. Otherwise, I’ll forget.”

  We went over to my walk-in closet and I pointed to the top shelf where my dress was in a little bin. Being almost a head taller than me, he easily got the bin down after getting up on the stool. He handed it to me.

  “Here you go,” he said.

  “Thanks. Wow, that was easy. It must be great to be that tall.”

  “Yeah, except when you’re in the backseat of a car. Then it’s better to be your size.”

  I smiled. “Ha! Yeah, that’s true. Come on, let’s go to my kitchen and eat.” I grabbed his arm and pulled him out of the closet and over to my kitchen. There was a small table with two chairs at the one window there. I pointed for him to take a seat.

  “Why don’t you sit there while I get some plates,” I said.

  He looked hesitant. “You don’t need me to help you with anything?”

  “You already helped me enough by getting me that dress. Please, sit down. You must be beat from working so hard.” I decided it was best that I didn’t mention the wine. Adding even half a glass of wine to my system would only serve to intensify all the hormones going haywire inside me. And I had a feeling Dante wouldn’t let me drink water only.

  He sat on one of the chairs. “Yeah, I’m pretty beat. I wouldn’t mind a drink… Hey, why don’t I go get us a bottle of red? I’m sure it’ll go great with the lasagna.”

  Crap. I might as well tell him I have wine already then. I got a bottle out of the cupboard.

  “I actually have some,” I said. “I didn’t think you wanted any since you’re riding your bike and have to get up early.”

  He grinned at me. “I do have to get up early, but I can handle a couple of glasses of wine. I won’t even feel it.”

  I swallowed; yes, but I sure will. Out loud I just said, “Great,” and opened the bottle. I poured two glasses of the wine and gave him one. I clinked my glass to his, determined to barely touch my own wine.

  “Cheers,” I said. “Thanks for coming here tonight. You really did me a huge favor. I forgot that I needed to do laundry today, so I have nothing clean to wear to the office tomorrow that’s acceptable.”

  My cheeks heated when I remembered that I’d asked him to come over at four. Surely, there had been enough time for me to find a laundromat. But there was nothing I could do about my lame explanation except for acting like I didn’t know how many laundromats there were in L.A. I turned to the cupboards to hide my face that must be pink now and pretended to search for the right plates for us to eat on. When I felt confident my color had faded, I carried two plates and silverware over to the kitchen table. Then I returned to get the lasagna out of the oven.

  Dante

  I watched her as she searched for something in the cupboard. Did she actually expect me to believe that she would have to go naked to the office if I hadn’t come over to get that dress from the shelf? I smiled a little. True, I had believed her at first—well, almost—but I didn’t any longer. She could easily have found a place to wash a load of clothes to wear tomorrow. L.A. was full of places to do your laundry. Most of them were open till at least eight on weekdays.

  Still, I was glad that she’d found a way to make me come over and asked me to stay for dinner. I wasn’t so stupid to think her having prepared lasagna was a coincidence. It was ages since I’d had a home-cooked meal, and especially one that smelled this good. I’d have some of her lasagna, washed down with the wine, and then I’d leave. I would definitely not fall for whatever scheme she had prepared for me. She was surely up to something.

  Even if all her little moves suggested that she’d planned to seduce me, I very much doubted that was what she had in mind. She didn’t strike me as the type of girl who’d do something like that, especially not after I had told her that what had happened between us was a mistake. And that was good, because I sure as hell would not have been able to resist her advances. Not when she was having her hair in two pigtails like that. I don’t know what it was, but I’d always found girls in pigtails to be an incredible turn-on. No, she had something else on her mind.

  She returned with a steaming baking dish that both looked and smelled heavenly in one hand and a salad bowl in the other. She placed the dish on a wooden cutting board between our plates and took my plate and filled it up with lasagna. She gazed at me, unsure.

  “Would you like me to add some greens?”

  “Absolutely,” I said.

  She dumped a pile of salad next to my lasagna and put the plate in front of me.

  “Dig in,” she said as she filled up her own plate. “Don’t be shy.”

  “Thanks,” I replied. “It looks delicious.”

  I cut off a huge piece that I put on my fork and stuck into my mouth together with some salad. The food tasted even better than it looked and smelled, a culinary orgasm that had me moan with pleasure. I closed my eyes as I chewed slowly.

  “So you like it then?” she asked and I opened my eyes in time to see her stare at me with a pleased face.

  I nodded and swallowed. “‘Like’ is a brutal understatement. I think I just fell in love. Seriously.”

  She giggled. “Well, I’m glad you feel that way.”

  I had another big bite, which had my taste buds go crazy with happiness again. “Yup,” was all I managed to say and still keep my mouth fairly closed. It struck me that maybe she was drugging me, but I soon dismissed that idea. Why the hell would she want to do that for?

  We kept eating and drinking wine in silence for a few minutes. I kept wondering what it was that she had on her mind. Maybe I had misjudged her and she was about to seduce me after all. That was the only thing that made sense and I did know that she liked me. Still, I really hoped it was something else. I didn’t want to be put in a position where I’d be forced to resist her—somehow I’d find the strength to do so—and possibly upset her.

  “So how was your day?” she asked, interrupting my thoughts.

  “Not too bad. What about yours?”

  “Well, I got out early from work today, so I did a bunch of errands. Helped my sister buy new shoes. She’s here for a few days. You know, Belinda, the one I told you about who lives in Oklahoma with her husband.”

  “Right, I remember her.” I finished the last of the wine in my glass. Ricki poured me another glass and topped off her own. I couldn’t help but notice that she’d barely touched her wine. I needed to be careful that I didn’t drink too much either, or I wouldn’t be able to ride my bike back home. “How many sisters do you have?”

  “Two,” she replied. “One younger and one older. They’re great, but I rarely get to see them since Lisa is in college and Belinda moved when she got married. So it was nice to hang a little with one of them today. What about you?”

  I gazed at her. “What about me?”

  “How was it growing up in so many different foster homes?”

  I took another long look at her and noted that there was an urgency behind her eyes. So that’s why she had wanted me to come over—to pry into my business again. I should have figured as much. The girl must be the nosiest person I’d ever met. Well, I guess that was better than her trying to seduce me and me being forced to reject her. Even if I didn’t really want to talk about my past. If I gave her vague answers, hopefully she’d stop asking.

  “Pretty effed up,” I said and had a sip of wine.

&nb
sp; “What’s that supposed to mean?” she instantly countered. “What made it so effed up?”

  I smiled at her. She was obviously not going to let me get away that easily. Well, what the hell? So what if I told her a few things about myself? As long as I didn’t get into the gang stuff, it should be fine.

  “Let’s just say that few of my foster parents took on foster kids out of love,” I said.

  I had another couple of sips of wine. Big ones.

  She frowned. “So why did they do it then? From what I understand, foster parents don’t get paid very much.”

  “That’s true. Still, to some of the families I was in, the extra four, five hundred they got per month was apparently enough to keep me.”

  She looked like she was pondering my answer. “How come you were in four different ones?” She opened her mouth to say something else, but it seemed she had a hard time getting the words out. Finally she did. “Did… did they treat you badly?”

  “Yeah, the first one especially,” I replied, trying not to think about how much I’d gotten beaten up living with that first family. It always got me mad and I didn’t want to get mad here in Ricki’s house. I had some more wine. I needed to switch the subject. But Ricki beat me to it. Leaning forward, she asked, “What happened with the second family? Did they beat you, too?”

  “No. They were actually really nice. But I didn’t get along with their eldest son, so they got rid of me after a couple years.”

  Ricki sucked in a breath and put a hand on her chest, as though what I’d told her hurt her. “Oh, God, that must have hurt almost as much as being beaten.”

  I thought about what she’d just said. “More actually. Anyway, let’s—”

  “And family three and four? What happened there?”

  Ricki was clearly determined to find out all about my childhood. Unless I wanted to come across as rude, I had to answer, even if she was really the one who was rude, being such a busybody.

  “Family number three couldn’t afford to keep me,” I said simply, “so I ended up with family number four. I only lasted six months with that last one. The father of the family liked using his belt on me a little too much, so I ran away.”

  She filled up my wine glass again, but there was so little left in the bottle that it only filled the glass halfway to the rim. I threw a glance at her glass, which was still almost full. I couldn’t remember seeing her drink from it more than once, I realized then. Was I alone responsible for consuming all that wine? I must be. No wonder I was beginning to feel so relaxed.

  But I needed to stop talking about my childhood now; I had already gone on about it for too long, given too many details. The question was how I’d circumvent her probing. I suddenly knew the answer—I’d go to the bathroom and stay there for a while, pretend like I wasn’t feeling good and blame it on the wine, not her food. And then I’d tell her that I needed to leave. It wasn’t a great solution, but better than the alternative.

  Ricki

  Hearing about all that had happened to Dante when he’d grown up broke my heart. Judging from the way he’d kept clenching his teeth and his jaw muscles had kept twitching, it couldn’t have been easy for him to tell me, either. I didn’t think he’d been aware of all the times he’d resorted to drinking wine with each answer, which was good since that made it easy for me to keep his glass full and get him drunker. I was pleased with myself that I’d managed to hardly touch my own glass. What he’d revealed about himself had honestly captivated me to the point that I’d forgotten about my wine.

  He seemed more and more relaxed now—surely because the wine was finally getting to him—so I was getting ready to ask him about the scar under his eye. I was under the impression it was the result of one of the numerous beatings he’d taken, but I wanted to know for sure.

  I had a small sip from my own glass and smiled at him, about to ask what happened after he ran away. Did he live on the streets then?

  But before I could do so, Dante asked me if he could use the bathroom.

  “Sure,” I said. “It’s right at the entrance.”

  He disappeared out of the kitchen. I wasn’t sure if he wanted to eat more, so I decided to leave the food on the table in case he wanted more. I went over to the cupboard and found the second bottle of red. I opened it and added some more to Dante’s glass. Surely, if I got him a little drunker still, the words would pour out of him.

  I sat at the table and waited for him to return, thinking about what I’d ask next. When he’d been gone for over five minutes, I started to wonder where he was. I left my chair and walked out into my living room right in time as Dante was leaving the bathroom. There was an apologetic look on his face.

  “Sorry for taking so long…”

  “No problem. I was just gonna get something in my nightstand,” I lied. I went over to it and pretended like I was searching for something in the only drawer. As I turned around, Dante was standing right behind me. He gazed at me with those dark eyes, something like humor playing in them. “Did you find what you were looking for?” he asked.

  “Um,” I said, suddenly speechless. He was standing so close I could smell his cologne—something earthy with musk—and it paralyzed my tongue. His presence and the way he was looking at me, like he could hear how fast my heart was beating, made me dizzy with excitement. Oh, God, if he doesn’t move soon I swear I’ll faint. It struck me that that might be good. It would give me a reason to open up and be vulnerable, which, in turn, should prompt him to reciprocate in kind. Before I could ponder this option more, decide whether it was in fact a smart move, I collapsed in a heap on my bed. My eyes closed, I felt him sitting next to me and putting a hand on my arm.

  “Ricki? Ricki? Are you okay?” He sounded so worried that I almost felt bad for fake-fainting. At least I knew it must have been convincing.

  Slowly, I opened my eyes and gazed at him. My hands went up to rub my eyes, but I remembered at the last moment that I had mascara on, so I let them drop back down.

  He looked at me, his face perturbed. “What happened?”

  I pushed myself up on my elbow. “I was thinking about all the things you had to go through as a child and I think it upset me. I have a tendency to get lightheaded and faint when things upset me. Sorry. I know I’m a bit of a weirdo.”

  He caressed my cheek with the tips of his fingers. “Maybe a little bit, but that’s okay. I still like you. And I’m probably as much of a weirdo if not more than you are anyway.”

  “Why are you a weirdo?” I managed to asked, even though his touch on my cheek seriously affected my ability to speak.

  He sighed heavily and looked away. “Weirdo might not be the right word,” he said.

  “What word would you say describes you better?”

  “Lost,” he replied after some time. He turned to face me. “I feel like I’m lost.”

  I pushed myself into a sitting position. Okay, now we’re getting somewhere. “Can you expand on that? Why do you feel like you’re lost?”

  He looked at me and sighed, a thousand inexplicable emotions dancing in his eyes. “I don’t feel lost when I’m with you.” Then he put a finger under my chin and kissed me.

  I was grateful I was on my bed because those words—and the way he’d looked at me when he’d said them—made my entire body feel weak, not to mention the way his lips felt against mine now. Not able to resist him, I slung an arm around his neck and brought his mouth closer to mine. He instantly parted his lips and found my tongue with his, caressing it in circles. He leaned toward me and cupped the back of my head so he could deepen the kiss. I heard myself whimper as he pressed himself closer to my body and opened my mouth wider to give him better access.

  His hand was on my breast then, squeezing it firmly, which caused heat to pool in my stomach and between my legs. As he proceeded to play with my nipple, pinch and pull it lightly, another whimper came from me. The fabric of my bra and top provided little protection from his fingers. Not that I wanted him to stop what he
was doing. I suddenly needed more of him and damn the consequences. I lay back on my bed and pulled Dante with me. He didn’t resist, but lay on top of me, his mouth still connected to mine. I wrapped my arms and legs around him to get his hard body closer. I enjoyed feeling the weight of him on top of me.

  He came up for a bit of air then. “Ricki, what are you doing to me?” he asked in a hoarse voice as he looked at me under hooded eyelids.

  “I don’t know,” I panted. “I guess I just can’t resist you.”

  He sighed heavily, his black gaze glazed over with excitement. “I wish I could resist you…”

  Before I could ask him why he wished that, he crushed his lips to mine again and kissed me with such fervor all my nerve endings buzzed with ecstasy. As he flipped me over so I ended up on top of him, I wondered if getting involved with a client was his only reason for objecting to what we were doing, or if there was something else, too. I thought it was time to cut the act. It was obvious that the two of us were crazy about each other, so why resist it? I could always stop being his client.

  “Sit up and straddle me,” he ordered me in a voice that told me I’d better not object. I placed my hands on his muscular chest and pushed myself up and spread my legs over his hips. As I did, I could feel his erection grown even bigger against my erotic center. Oh, my God.

  He put his hands behind his neck and contemplated me for a moment with his burning eyes. “Now take that top and your bra off for me,” he ordered. “Slowly.”

  I had never before done anything like this—and I wasn’t sure I would have let any other guy talk to me in that way, like I was just there for his enjoyment—but I was helpless against Dante’s wishes. Any of them, apparently, because I honestly thought I’d agree to do whatever he asked me to do in that moment, it excited me that much.

  Without a word and while holding his gaze, I grabbed the bottom part of my top and began pulling it upward. As I removed it, I could tell that his breathing picked up speed. I moved on to my bra, finding that I was enjoying watching how much he was enjoying my little striptease. I unhooked my bra and removed it from my breasts. As I did so and they became visible to Dante, I bit my lip at the same time. He parted his lips and a moan came out. He squeezed my upper thighs hard toward his hips so I could feel how he was growing even harder against my wetness.