Rock Chick Revenge (Rock Chick, #5)

Ee-yikes.

“I want this…” he said and he let go of my wrists. His finger touched me on the forehead then slid across it and down the side of my face. “And I want this…” he fell to the side, his hand moved down my body and I sucked in breath when he cupped me between my legs. His hand stayed there a second before it glided down the inside of my thigh, pushing it open so he could roll on top of me again, settling between my legs. “I’m not stupid, I know your heart’s involved in this and I’ve never, not once in all the time you’ve known me, given you the idea that I won’t handle it with care.”

Oh… my… God.

Someone, shoot me, kidnap me, cuff me to a sink, anyone! My mind screamed.

“Luke –” I interrupted.

“I’m talkin’,” he bit off.

I shut up.

“I don’t put up with the shit you’ve handed me the last week because you’re some fuckin’ piece I want to conquer. I put up with it because I’ve liked you since you were eight years old. You made me laugh. You understood me. You looked out for me when no one else fuckin’ bothered and you acted like you thought I could move mountains and I needed someone who thought that about me because my Dad sure as fuck didn’t.”

“Please, stop,” I whispered because now I really needed quiet space in order to process this latest episode with Luke from waking to now, all of it.

He ignored me. “I never expected I’d want you in my bed but I always knew I wanted you in my life. The fuckin’ second you looked at my mouth in the office, though, I knew I would stop at nothin’ to get you in my bed. And I thought then too that for the first time in my life I might do somethin’ both my Dad and I would be proud of, and that’s bein’ with you.”

My throat went so tight, the breath I sucked in sounded ragged.

He didn’t just say that. Did he?

“Get this into your head Ava, I’m not gonna do anything to fuck it up between us but I’m also not gonna let you do anything to fuck it up either.”

“Luke, I have to get out of here,” I said in a quiet voice and it sounded like a desperate plea mainly because it was one.

“I told you once, you’re not goin’ anywhere. And now I’ll tell you the rest too.”

Oh shit.

There was more. I didn’t want to know the rest.

Unfortunately, Luke was on a roll. “This is the way it is for us right now. I know you fixed this place up but I’m not givin’ up the loft so we’re gonna have to work somethin’ out about where we live, eat, sleep and fuck. We last, you’re gonna have to give up the Range Rover, they’re dangerous because they roll easy and I don’t like you drivin’ it. We go the distance, we’re havin’ a small wedding, I’m not fuckin’ dancin’ and I want three kids, all boys, but if we have a girl she’s not datin’ until she’s twenty-five, especially if she looks like you, got me?”

I didn’t answer, couldn’t answer, I’d lost the ability to speak.

His face got closer. “Do you still think I’m playin’ games?”

I shook my head. One thing was for certain, Luke was not playing games.

And now I didn’t know how to feel about that.

Great, like I needed something new to worry about.

He rolled off of me and onto his back, putting one hand to his forehead. “Jesus Christ,” he muttered to the ceiling. “All those times I sat in the office laughing my ass off at stories of Lee, Eddie, Hank and Vance. They should have fuckin’ medals.”

I thought that was kind of insulting, not only to me but to my friends. However, I thought it best at that juncture not to share that opinion. Instead, I pulled the comforter around my naked body, got up on an elbow to look at him and decided, since he seemed to be done, to find some quiet space as soon as possible.

In order to do that, I asked softly, “Can I brush my teeth now?”

His eyes cut to me.

Eek!

Maybe he wasn’t done.

“No, Ava, you can’t fuckin’ brush your teeth.”

All righty then. There you go, he wasn’t done.

I shouldn’t have had to ask permission to brush my teeth but I was going to give in on that considering the air hadn’t yet lost any of its dangerous electricity. Not to mention, Luke just announced he was already deciding where we were going to live, what car was safe for me to drive, what kind of wedding and how many children we were going to have.

And all of this, I had to admit, made my stomach feel melty.

“Come here,” he ordered, voice gruff and still pissed off.

That made my stomach feel even more melty.

Even so, I hesitated. “Are you still mad at me?” I asked.

“Fuck yeah,” he answered.

“Maybe I should give you some quiet space,” I told him, trying to be helpful but with the ulterior motive that quiet space for Luke meant quiet space for me.

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