“I’m not yours. I’m not anyone’s ever again!” I shouted in his face, getting pissed instead of scared because pissed was a whole lot better place to be. “And I’m not paying the second part of your deal. No way. No fucking way.”
“All right, then you pay by telling me why you didn’t pick up my calls or see me after my father’s funeral. That was before all the shit went down with those fuckin’ guys takin’ you away, piece by piece. I wanna hear why you stood by my father’s grave and made me a promise and days later you reneged.”
My mouth snapped shut and my body went statue still.
Okay, then there was really, really, really no way I was going to tell him that. I was never going to tell him it embarrassed me that he held me when I was Fatty, Fatty Four-Eyes. No way I was going to tell him that I lost weight, dyed my hair and got contacts because I’d been in love with him since I was eight (he wasn’t wrong about me being his but I wasn’t going to tell him that) and I wanted him to notice me.
No way in hell.
In fact, there was so no way in hell that I made a split-second, dangerous decision that would protect that knowledge forever.
“I’ll get the lotion,” I told him.
He stared at me a beat then pressed his lips together and tilted his chin up looking for patience then his eyes came back to me.
“Jesus, you’re a pain in the ass,” he said.
“Are we doing this or what?” I asked, sounding bitchy which was a relief considering I felt hysterical but I didn’t want Luke to know that.
His arms went loose, I pushed up, scrambled over him, got to my feet and I shot to the bathroom like a rocket.
Chapter Ten
Mrs. Stark
It was the dead of night when Luke moved me, arms around me, up and over him to his other side. He hooked my leg over his hip and I snuggled in.
“You’re nuts,” I mumbled into his throat.
Then I went back to sleep.
*
I woke up alone in Luke’s bed.
I stared at the pillowcase, quiet, still, listening and at the same time assessing my situation. I heard the shower. I took a deep breath, rolled on my stomach, pulled Luke’s pillow into my belly and held it tight.
Last night, I’d dodged the bullet. As I lay in Luke’s bed thinking back, I decided this was because I was on an adrenalin crash after Dom’s kidnapping, because I was drunk, but most especially because Luke gave really great rubdowns.
I got the lotion, gave it to Luke, took off my glasses and lay down on my belly, all bitch attitude like a rubdown from Luke was akin to torture in an iron maiden. Just to be difficult, I kept on my tee and my panties (which, thank God, were mocha-colored satin hipsters with a load of beige lace and not ratty old ones that sagged at the ass). Luke pushed up the tee, up, up until I was forced to do a back arch and he whipped it over my head. He warmed the lotion in his hands and went to work on me.
I wanted to stay tense, just to be contrary, but I couldn’t. His hands were strong and you could tell he had done this before (another thought I clung to, telling myself it proved he was a womanizing rat-bastard). He went right to the kinks and worked them out. This was not a sensual massage to get me turned on. He genuinely was trying to relieve my stress.
When I wasn’t freaked out that I was lying, in my undies, in Lucas Stark’s bed (which was, at the beginning, my prevailing thought), I found this show of kindness disturbing but in a good way. I was trying very hard to hold on to thoughts of him being an ultra pushy, unbelievably blunt, tough guy, macho man and Sandra Whoever-She-Was crying into her M&Ms. But it was hard when underneath everything Luke did it seemed like he truly was a nice guy trying to protect me and keep me safe (but in an ultra pushy, unbelievably blunt, tough guy, macho man way).
Then again I thought that about Rick when he promised not to cheat on me, and Noah when he worked so hard to win me before screwing me over. And mostly my Dad when I thought it was him and me against the Barlow Super Bitches and he left me.
Slowly, as Luke worked at my back, all these thoughts sifted out of my head and I fell asleep.
That was it.
Except for Luke’s weird habit of rolling me to the other side of the bed every night, all we did was sleep.
I pulled the covers to my neck and was about to move to my second mental topic, how to successfully flee to Wyoming, when the bathroom door opened. That was when I realized my mistake. I should have gotten up and got dressed.
Instead, like the big dork I was, I lay in bed and let my mind wander, so much so I hadn’t even heard the shower go off.
Fuckity, fuck, fuck, fuck.
When was I going to learn?
I reviewed my options, waited for Good Ava and Bad Ava to give their input (they were still sleeping, which figured, always chattering away when you didn’t want them to and never there when you needed them) and decided to pretend that I was still asleep. In fact, if I was good at it, maybe Luke would get sick of waiting and go out and hunt down my ex-boyfriends and beat the shit of them while I escaped and drove to Wyoming.
I was putting this plan into action, eyes closed, when I felt the bed depress as Luke sat on it.