A Wish A Kiss All Amiss Ch 01

*****

This is a romance story with some sexy stuff in there and an expansion to my Summer Lovin Contest submission. I decided to expand the story because Rosaline and Gabriel were so much fun to write.

I’m eternally grateful to readers who have read or reacted to that story. You gave me the courage to continue writing.

The original title of this story was supposed to be

One Wish, One Kiss, Everything Amiss

, but the submission form can’t do more than 35 characters, so I had to compromise.

Oh and I need an editor. Please contact me if you’re interested!

*****

Chapter 1

Rosaline traced her gaze back to the beginning of the sentence for the third time; the words she could recite, but the meanings kept eluding her. Peeking over the edge of the book, she glanced at the darkened rectangle that was her phone. Sitting quietly on the other side of the table, it displayed no movement except for the pixels that made up the digits of time rearranging themselves to catch up to the new reality, bringing no trace of what had been into what was now.

She wished she could do just that, erasing the past like the pixels on her screen, and that ironic thought made her lift her gaze from the book and release a bitter chuckle, expecting to see the bustling of a late afternoon café in a summer afternoon.

What met her gaze instead, was a pair of piercing dark eyes with amusement dancing around their corners. They belonged to a tall broad man with long steady strides. The warm afternoon sun bounced from his unruly dark hair, coloring it the shade of dark chocolate, highlighting the defined angles of his cheekbones and the perfectly chiseled jawline. His shirt was casually wrinkled, exuding that kind of devil-may-care confidence. He was gorgeous, and he had no business making his way towards her.

Coming back to her senses, Rosaline felt the rush of heat flooding to the tips of her ears, and quickly shuffled her attention back to the book that she was not reading while being all too aware that her table was the inevitable destination of his journey.

“What’s so funny?” he asked with mild amusement and genuine curiosity while pulling out the empty chair across from her.

Rosaline batted her eyes, watching him settling himself in the chair with ease, tracing his graceful form and ending her perusal in the depth of his dark eyes.

“You were chuckling earlier when you were reading that,” he explained, pointing to the book.

“Oh, that.” Embarrassed as she was not actually reading, Rosaline splayed her fingers on the book, feeling the silky texture of the cover. “That was not from reading the book.”

He arched a dark eyebrow.

She felt oddly compelled to explain so she added, “I mean, I’ve read it a million times, and I loved it. I think she just needed an agent.”

“She?” he inquired further as his amusement spread across his face; the corners of his mouth lifted themselves, just enough to send Rosaline’s pulse racing.

“The writer.” She paused for a beat. “Of course, I don’t know for sure, but I’ve always imagined her to be a woman.”

He gave a lopsided smile, running his long fingers through his dark hair. “Interesting.”

That was when it clicked in Rosaline’s head, her eyes widened, and said, “Wait, you know the book, too?”

He tapped the tip of his impossibly straight nose.

Rosaline huffed under her breath, not exactly intending for him to hear. “I thought that was just a lame pickup line of unfortunate timing.”

But he heard it anyway, letting out a deep and rumbling laugh. “I admit it did lack creative endeavor.”

“Points for improvement then,” she said.

“Are we keeping scores?” One dark brow rose.

“You should be thankful. It is not an easy job,” she said.

“What does that mean?” His held her gaze. His dark eyes glimmered with amusement.

“Oh, you know what you look like,” she said, waving a hand at him and took a sip of her cold jasmine tea.

He watched her return the cup back to the tabletop. The corners of his mouth kicked up, turning it into a beautiful smile. “Is that a compliment?”

She gave it a thought, turning the tea cup in its saucer, and then shook her head. “Compliments imply some positive emotions from the giver; I am only stating facts because I assume you’ve looked into a mirror before.”

He chuckled, and Rosaline’s heart skipped a beat at that sound.

“If we are being empirical, you should read a better book next time,” he said, leaning back into his seat.

Her hands covered the book as if she was protecting it from his insult. “What’s wrong with this one?”

His gaze dropped to the book and thought for a while. “Actually, don’t read at all. Or at least don’t pretend to be.”

“I was not pretending,” she said, wrinkling her nose. “You distracted me.”

“What should I do with so many of your heart-felt compliments to my appearance?” He grinned.

She rolled her eyes at him.

“Why shouldn’t I read?”

“Reading makes you look intelligent.”

Her eyes went wide. “I beg your pardon?”

“I can do without the trouble fending off unwanted attention from other intelligent suitors for you.” He lifted a shoulder.

Rosaline laughed at the ridiculous and presumptuous man then. “Take your chivalry somewhere else. I’m doing fine by myself.”

With both hands on the sides of her chair, she pushed it backwards and rose to her feet.

“Although intelligent people are overrated,” he said softly, and when she stilled, he continued, “They impose themselves on you and ask uncreative questions like why the book you’re reading is funny.”

The muscles around her lips twitched, and she willed them to not go up, instead she shot him a sideway look. He was leaning forward, a long arm relaxed on the table, his palm up, fingers extended.

“That doesn’t sound very intelligent,” she said.

“No, that sounds like an arrogant asshole,” he said.

His long dark lashes shielded something she did not quite understand but it was gone the moment she sat back down.

“Why do you not like the book anyway?” She asked.

“I never said that.”

She tapped the tip of her nose.

He looked to the book in her hand, a solid black block broken off only by the title of the book printed in light grey Bodoni. “It’s pretentious.”

“You would know.”

“Hey.” He lifted a single eyebrow at her, a crooked smile hanging on his lips.

“Well, I like it.” She sipped at her tea.

“So you said.” He paused. “Why?”

“Because it’s liberating. It shows you a choice that is impossible in real life.”

“How do you know it’s impossible?”

She opened her mouth, and then closed it, feeling the heat of his gaze on her cheeks. A commotion out the window caught her attention. A lone starling shot off from the grassy ground in a frenzy, a puffed-up magpie fluttering its black-ringed wings in its wake, making a cacophony of squeals and feathers. When the starling vanished into the tress beyond, merging into one of the speckles on the window, Rosaline’s gaze drifted back to Gabriel, who was turning around from the spectacle to meet her eyes.

“I’m Gabriel.” He smiled and held out his hand.

When he spoke, she let out a breath of relief and took his hand without a second thought.

Mistake.

His hand enveloped hers like it was its only purpose. The soft warmth of his hand spread through her body, and Rosaline could do little to stop this maddening wave of tingles pooling everywhere inside her. And then there was that feather-light brush of his thumb, barely there but could not be unnoticed, quickening her pulse.

“Ro—Julia.”

Confusion flashed by Gabriel’s face but was swiftly replaced by intrigue. If a girl was not careful, she should find herself in the predicament of revealing too much to a virtual stranger.

“Nice to meet you, Julia.” His eyes pierced into hers, gauging her reaction.

She showed no signs of backtracking or explaining her hesitation while he maintained the eye contact. Through the long dark lashes, his eyes drew her in with a dark glimmer.

“Tell me”—he paused, as if he was giving her a chance to tell him the truth—”Julia?”

But he did not know that she told him a lie.

“Yes?”

“Why was it unfortunate timing?” he asked, referring to their earlier conversation, observing her profile.

“Because excellent timing would make good comedy?” she said. “And I’m not sure I’m in one.”

Her gaze glided to her phone on the table, just a reflective rectangle again, then back to him.

“No?” Amusement filled the depth of his eyes.

“You haven’t proven yourself to be funny.”

“Another point for improvement?” Eyes wide, he feigned an offended look.

“Again, just my observation,” she said. Her attention temporarily went back to her phone, then she added under her breath, “Or perhaps I just know that this won’t end well.”

“Are we all going to die in the end, then?”

“Everyone dies,” she said.

“That’s an unnecessarily bleak script, don’t you think?”

“Poignant is what I would use.”

“Some would argue that is verging on melodramatic,” he said.

“Most don’t have my good taste.”

“Ah, but as you’re currently still entertaining me with your company, I concede.” He flashed a wide grin. “You have excellent taste.”

“Self-flattery won’t save you from the inevitable.” Neither would beautiful smiles.

He chuckled at that. “Is there any way then, my ruthless playwright, for us poor characters to avoid your carnage?”

She tilted her head and nodded, the suspense drawing him nearer to her.

Her lips curved upwards. “Impeccable timing.”

He laughed, the sound deep and weirdly comforting. “Now that you have thoroughly spoiled the end, you wouldn’t mind telling me how I plotted my own demise?”

“So you can save the day and turn this into a comedy?”

He considered the fictional possibility with real-life seriousness.

“I do have impeccable timing,” he said. “Which is why, as you can now imagine, it bothers me to know that I came over at an unfortunate time.”

The text message she received today flashed in her head. How would she even begin to explain?

Her eyes wandered to the window beyond; the summer evening glow imbued the city with warm ochre, the victorious magpie’s long tail a color of the deepest evergreen forests.

Shifting her gaze back to him, she was met with the genuine kindness and concern that sat deep in his dark eyes.

“Julia?” he pressed.

“Are you good at keeping secrets?” she asked.

He chuckled, shaking his head. “That’s not how you tell secrets.”

“It’s not?” Her eyebrow furrowed at the mischief in his tone.

When he beamed at her like he was the one having the secret, she said, “How would you do it then?”

“Watch and learn,” he said with a smirk.

He shifted his chair next to her and whispered into her ear, “I like you more than I should, Miss Tragedy.”

The heat emanating from him coursed through her, and pooled in between her legs. She felt the movement of his lips against her earlobe, his words tantalizing her. He smelled like fresh mint and tangy lemon, like a promise of summer. She could also swear that he lowered his voice to that delicious frequency between seduction and pleasure.

Seemingly unaffected by the intimacy, he drew himself away lazily, stretching his arm to the back of her chair and said something about telling secrets like it was not a secret. But his words flew right past her; for she could barely hear anything over the thudding of her heart beat in her ears.

“Now your turn,” he said, his tone unexpectedly gentle, considering what he just said to her.

When she remained silent, he met her gaze. She watched him slowly lift his hand, and then she felt it on her cheek brushing away that errant hair that always wanted to wriggle itself loose from the rest of her pinned-up hair. His hand then slid along the side of her jaw, and tipped her chin towards him.

With her heart pounding against her chest, Rosaline drew in a deep breath while Gabriel waited patiently like he had all the time in the world, stroking her cheek.

“Julia is not my real name,” she said, looking down at her short oval nails.

He considered that for a moment when he retracted his hand and nodded. “Didn’t trust the arrogant asshole with your real name?”

“No, not like that,” she said; suddenly it became critical that she tell him her name. “My real name is Rosaline.”

He raised an eyebrow, and Rosaline decided that at this inconvenient moment, this was one of the sexiest things that this man could do, along with whispering into her ear and smiling like he had cracked the secret to life.

“Why, then, Rosaline?” The sound of her name lingered in the air like a sacred whisper.

“I had to. There are”—she paused to search for the appropriate words—”people looking for me.”

“Ah, a fugitive,” nodding, he commented like he was commenting the weather, like it was nothing out of the ordinary. “What do they want from you?”

She blinked at him. Maybe this stranger would understand after all.

“They want me to work for them.”

The muscles between his eyebrows furrowed slightly, followed by a raised eyebrow. She was glad that he had no idea how that affected her, how that simple movement of the muscles could coax her into spilling her life secret.

“This group of people think they can use my powers to their benefits,” she carefully laid out each word, knowing how insane this sounded. “I have powers to make wishes come true.”

When he did not respond, she continued even though she should not, “It’s a little like mind control, as I’m told. I wish for you to do something, and you will do it.”

“And you were born with this...ability?” he asked, his tone neutral.

“I’ve had those for as long as I could remember,” she replied, and narrowed her eyes. “You don’t seem surprised at all.”

Her heart pounded in her chest, this time for the wrong reason, as she considered the possibility of Gabriel working for The Order. They did just send a text message to her phone, but he seemed so...different from all the other people of The Order.

Seconds stretched into minutes, which molded into an eternity. Her breathing became shallower as the air thinned around her.

Then Gabriel started chuckling before murmuring softly, “You’re fascinating.”

Rosaline stiffened in her chair. “I’m not. I’m more dangerous than you think.”

He slid his hand down her arm gently to sooth her, making Rosaline suddenly aware of the surrounding and the heat.

“Prove it.” His tone was soft, cajoling. Irresistible.

Rosaline stared at him for a moment, searching for traces of mockery in his eyes, but failed to find any. Her gaze then followed the straight line of his nose and then to those lips.

Those kissable lips.

His lips, framed by a thin layer of evening stubble, were all she could think about. She had vowed to never use her power again, but she could not recall the reason. She only wanted to kiss him, and she wondered how that would feel if she did just that, lean in and kiss him, press her lips to his soft-looking ones.

And what if he kissed her, would that be as amazing as the kisses portrayed in fiction? Would he make her curl her toes and her skin tingle? Would that make her feel like giving up herself to something more sensual, something more erotic? She needed to find out, needed him to kiss her.

She

wished

that he would kiss her.

Shit.

“So, what did you wish for?” he asked. His hand had taken up permanent residence on her arm, stroking playfully.

She let out a nervous laugh to hide her embarrassment; she could not possibly tell a virtual stranger that she had just accidentally wished for him to kiss her.

“Obviously I can’t tell you.” Swallowing, she faked calmness. “Or it won’t work.”

Gabriel looked at her for a short minute, and then he let out a laugh, shaking his head at the same time.

“One of these days, I’m going to teach you how to lie better,” he said with a smirk.

*****

“This is me,” Rosaline said, stopping in front of a row of old townhouses.

Gabriel had insisted on walking her home, at least to her apartment door, promising to be on his best behavior.

She nodded her head to indicate her apartment, the darkened window in the ornate façade reflecting the street lamp, which cast a shadow across Gabriel’s face.

He was a silhouette against the purple dusk, a tall dark cutout from the amethyst sky.

“I didn’t plan this,” he said.

“I don’t imagine you did.” She tilted her head to search for his eyes.

“What is that supposed to mean?” he asked, low and soft.

“Only that it would have gone better.”

“Material for the list of improvement?” he asked.

She nodded; the proud grin splaying on her lips reflected in the darkness of his eyes.

“I guess I should commend you for being excellent at doing this difficult job?” he said, humor in his tone.

“Thank you.”

She heard him laugh, the sound rioting through her.

“As I was saying, before your smart mouth pointed out more of my flaws, when I first saw you, I had other things on my mind, but that book that you were reading—” He paused.

“I will remember to update my Tinder profile,” she said when he closed his mouth.

“You will delete that app.”

Before she registered the possessiveness in his tone, he pulled her against him with one arm around her waist, and lifted her chin up with the other hand, dipped his head and caught her soft lips with his own.

He gently kneaded her lips with his own, while his hands stroked down the softness of her body. She melded into the solid form and the fresh mint smell that were now encompassing her. He caught her lower lip in between his teeth, exerting the lightest pressure, and caressed the spot with his tongue. Rosaline deepened the kiss, offering her mouth to meet his teasing tongue with hers.

His hair was silk between her fingers, his cheek rough with stubble on hers, but his tongue was soft and hard all at once, stroking, matching the throbbing in between her legs. She let out a moan, and Gabriel pulled her closer to the hard length in his jeans.

When she accidentally made the wish, she did not expect—she did not know—that a kiss from him could melt her bones and make her want.

Maintaining his tight hold on her, Gabriel pressed a few light kisses on the corner of her mouth before slowly drawing away, panting.

Their eyes locked, bodies pressed hard against each other, a minty jasmine smell permeating the air.

“That’s your proof,” she said, her head still whirling from the kiss and her heart pounding, her breath catching.

“What proof?” he asked huskily against her lips, his stubble scraping her already-sensitive skin.

“That’s the proof of my powers.”

“It had nothing to do with your powers.”

He smiled, stroking the small of her back before sliding his hands along the curves to cup her rounded ass. A moan escaped from her, and he heard it too as his erection stirred against her belly.

“But that’s why it’s dangerous, I make you think that it is your idea,” she attempted to explain, needing to rationalize the desire that was overwhelming her.

He looked at her with amusement; one corner of his mouth kicked up. He then brushed away that errant strand of hair from her temple.

“I swear that mouth of yours will be the death of me,” he murmured before catching her lips again.

Watching Gabriel’s departing shadow stretch longer under the street lamp after each stride from her apartment window, Rosaline was both disappointed and relieved when Gabriel left with no strings attached.

She had read about kisses in literature, seen it in movies, but she had never experienced it; while she was no stranger to a good self-induced orgasm, she could not bestow herself the intimacy and the eroticism of a kiss, the kind that made her hope for something more, that tasted like promise.

The kind that Gabriel excelled at.