“You just…” I cleared my throat and I didn’t care what that betrayed, “tore my Mom’s nightgown right off me.”
He set me in bed and followed me down. “The nightgown was ugly as hell and your mother was makin’ a point,” he said as he pulled the covers up over us. I tried to sit up but he shifted me into his arms, pulling me down so we were on our sides, face-to-face. “I see your mother hasn’t changed.”
He was right, she hadn’t changed but he still ripped a nightgown off my body.
“I think you may just be crazy,” I blurted. “People don’t act like you. They don’t handcuff people to themselves or to beds. They don’t fight in parking lots. They don’t carry people around everywhere. They don’t tear clothes off women’s bodies.” When I finished, my voice was pitched two octaves higher than normal.
“I only carry you around. You’re always tryin’ to get somewhere I don’t want you to be or doin’ somethin’ I don’t want you to do.”
I pushed against his chest but his arms just got tighter. “That doesn’t make it any better!” Now I was kind of shouting. “In fact, that makes it worse!”
“You scared of me?” he asked, still calm as could be.
“No,” I snapped and in a way it was the truth. I wasn’t scared of him because he tore a nightgown off my body, I was scared of him for other reasons, reason’s I wasn’t about to share.
“You feel cornered?”
“Fuck yes!” Now I was yelling and totally telling the truth.
I saw the white of his teeth flash. “Good,” he murmured.
Then he kissed me. It was long, hot, heavy and even though he’d given me an against-the-wall orgasm less than an hour ago, I started to get turned on again.
Shit!
When his lips detached, I thought he was going to take things further. Instead, he turned me so my back was to his front, his arms came around me tight and I felt his lips at the back of my neck for a quick kiss before he buried his face in my hair.
I thought we might have spoon sex, and I had to admit I was kind of looking forward to it, but as the moments slid by he just held me.
I told myself it was being in my own bed again that made the tension flow out of my body so that I relaxed into him. I told myself it was not his warmth, his arms around me, his breath against my neck and the fact that he was Luke Stark, the man I’d loved since I could remember.
I was beginning to fall into dreamland when his hand came up and cupped my breast. I lost any drowsiness I had and held my breath. Even though his thumb idly stroked the inside curve from nipple to chest, it was clear this was just an affectionate touch and he wasn’t taking it anywhere.
“I’m guessin’ from your behavior you didn’t feel it when I fucked you against the wall,” he noted softly to the back of my head.
Whatever “it” was, I didn’t feel it. I also didn’t share this. I kept silent.
He accepted my silence and just held me, stroking my breast.
After awhile, he spoke again. “You wanna tell me why you were standin’ in Zano’s arms?”
Eek!
No, I most certainly did not want to tell him mainly because I didn’t really know myself. Therefore, I kept my silence.
He waited then his voice came again. “All right, we’ll let that go. Instead, maybe you wanna tell me why you didn’t call me after my Dad’s funeral.”
Any relaxation I felt left my body in an instant and it went solid. I also kept silent.
Luke waited again, his thumb stilled then he sighed. “I’ll take that as a no.”
I bit my lip as his hand moved away from my breast and both his arms wrapped around my midriff, pulling me deeper into him as I felt his head move, his mouth coming to my ear.
“This starts to go bad, Ava, what we have, we’ll talk about it. We’ll work on it. I’m not your Dad, I’m not one day just gonna up and leave you.”
“You already did, for eight years.”
Oh no. Did that just come out of my mouth? And did it sound like an accusation?
“Babe,” he murmured before he buried his face in the side of my neck. The murmur was soft, gentle, affectionate and there was what sounded almost like a growl running through it and his obvious emotion made me shiver.
Yep, it just came out of my mouth. Over and over, I kept giving myself away.
Time to go back to silence.
Luke didn’t feel like silence. He turned me to face him again and I didn’t fight it (I wouldn’t win anyway). Once he got me in position, as a defense mechanism I buried my face in his throat. I didn’t want to look at him and I didn’t want him looking at me. I didn’t want to have this conversation either but I wasn’t going to resist. Resistance would just make it last longer and I needed to sleep, to get this night over with and take up the fight again tomorrow. He eventually had to leave. He had a job, even if he didn’t need it. When I was alone again, I’d figure out what was next for me. I was still leaning toward plastic surgery and creating my own disappearance in the depths of Mexico.