Luke’s eyes were on my torso and, even standing all the way across the bathroom, I could tell they were ink.
Ho-ly shit.
I turned back to the sink, trying to be cool. It wasn’t like I was naked or anything. In fact, I had dresses that I wore out in public that showed more skin.
I leaned into the mirror and pulled open an eye with one hand, my index finger of the other up and at the ready to take out the contact.
Luke materialized behind me in the mirror. Close behind me.
I poked myself in the eye.
After I quit blinking, I glared at him. I was certain he’d be laughing or at least giving me a half-grin.
He was not. His mind was clearly on other things. I knew this when his hand, fingers splayed, hit my side and slid around my midriff. His eyes watched its movement in the mirror.
My knees did a little wobble.
“We need to make up the futon,” I told him, deciding to pretend the wobble didn’t happen.
“Why?” he asked.
“So you can sleep there,” I replied and successfully (thank God) pulled out the contact.
“I’m sleepin’ with you,” he said, his hand sliding further across my midriff toward my other side, which meant to accommodate its motion, my body moved back into his.
“No you aren’t.”
“Yes I am.”
“Luke, I don’t want to argue about this.”
His eyes moved to mine in the mirror. “Then don’t.”
Shit. How did you respond to that?
My head dropped and I started cleaning my contact in my palm and widened my net to try and pretend everything else that was happening to my body wasn’t happening (rapid heartbeat, blood warming, nipples hardening). Not just the knee wobble.
I pulled at his arm to lean into the mirror to take out the other contact. He watched me do this, which, I might add, was supremely nerve-wracking. I got the contact on the first go and leaned back, squirting solution on it in my palm to clean it. Luke’s hand slid up to the side of my breast so his forearm was pressed underneath them.
There was the knee wobble again.
Hell and damnation.
I looked at us in the mirror and we were fuzzy. But even fuzzy I liked what I saw.
“Luke.”
I watched as his head bent and felt as his mouth hit my neck.
“I like this,” he said against my neck and showed me what he meant by rubbing his thumb along the side of my breast.
It felt nice.
I closed my eyes then opened them again.
“Noah liked it too,” I told him, calmly morphing into Barlow Super Bitch but my heart was beating so fast I thought it would tear right out of my chest I was finding it hard to breathe. None of the physical manifestations of Luke’s touch stopped me. “He liked it a lot. So much, it’s kinda surprising he didn’t steal it when he cleaned out my bank accounts, took all my Auntie Ella’s gold jewelry and disappeared.”
I felt and saw Luke’s head come up and I was pretty certain he was looking at me in the mirror.
“He should have taken it, a memento of good times,” I went on, seriously Barlow Super Bitch.
“Let’s go back to the part about cleaning out your bank accounts,” Luke’s mouth was close to my ear and I actually felt his deep voice rumble through my body.
“Five thousand, three hundred and twenty-five dollars, everything I had in savings and checking. It took him days of maximum ATM withdrawals but, you have to hand it to him, he stuck to it.”
I ignored the scary, pissed off life force emanating from Luke that filled the room as I opened the medicine cabinet. I replaced the solution and aimed for the bottle that I knew was my face soap and as I did this Luke’s arm dropped away.
Then I felt Luke’s presence move away.
When I knew he was gone (and peeked to check), I put both my hands to the basin and dropped my head.
Now, that wasn’t nice, Good Ava sounded disappointed.
It wasn’t, Bad Ava, surprisingly, agreed.
“Shut up,” I whispered, washed my face, brushed my teeth, slathered with moisturizer and went to my room.
I closed the door this time and changed into my pajamas (cream, silky-satin, drawstring pants and a matching camisole with spaghetti straps, gathers under my breasts and a low, straight back that cut just under my shoulder blades). I got in bed and pulled up the covers.
I didn’t know where Luke was but I told myself I didn’t care noting that now I was lying to myself.
I was planning my strategy to get all men out of my life which included gaining back every one of those seventy-five pounds and then some by eating my way through the entire inventory of LaMar’s donuts every day for a month as well as firing Riley, when the door opened and Luke walked in.
The house behind him was dark and so was the room. As I watched his shadowy form move, he walked right to the bed and sat on the edge like he’d been in my room hundreds of times.
“Luke, the futon is in the second bedroom,” I informed him.
I heard his boot hit the floor.
“Or, you can sleep on the couch downstairs,” I went on.
I heard his other boot hit the floor.
“There’s pillows and blankets on the futon, I got them out,” I persevered.
He leaned forward a bit, lifted his arms so his hands went between his shoulder blades and he tugged off his tee.
“Luke!”
He stood and for a second I thought he was going to leave. Also I had to admit, for a second, I felt unbelievably disappointed.
Instead, he dropped his cargo pants and I heard his belt hit the floor.
Holy crap!
Then he pulled the covers back and settled on his back in the bed.
I came up on an elbow and glared at him or in his general direction. “You aren’t sleeping here.”
“What’s Noah’s last name?”
I blinked in the darkness.
“Excuse me?”
“His last name.”
“Dexter, why?”
“He white?”
“Sorry?”
“Caucasian.”
“Yes,” I answered, deciding to move away from this strange turn of the conversation. “About the futon –”
“Do you know his birth date?”
“Luke –”
“Ava, what’s his fucking birthday?”
“July twenty-third, why are you asking me this?”
“You got a social security number?”
I felt a thrill slide through me as I cottoned on to the purpose of his interrogation and I shot up to a sitting position in the bed.
“Don’t you –!” I started to protest but Luke sat up too, faster than I’d seen anyone move giving new meaning to “abs of steel”. In the blink of an eye I found myself on my back, Luke full body on top of me.
“Get off me!” I shouted, bucking my body under his.
“This Noah guy’s got her.”
I was back to blinking, so confused I stilled. “Got who?” I asked.
“The old Ava.”
Instantly I felt the tears stinging my eyes, all fight left me and I turned my head to the side.
His hands came to either side of my face and he turned it back. “He took her when he disappeared, didn’t he?” Luke asked, his voice gentle.
Crapity, crap, crap, crap.
His gentle voice got me every fucking time.
“A piece of her,” I whispered, do not ask me why but I did (I knew why, The Voice).
“Who’s got the other pieces?”
I shook my head against his hands. I didn’t think the minuscule amount of information I shared on Noah boded well for Noah’s future. Luke, I was realizing, was not the kind of guy who fucked around. I couldn’t imagine that Noah was still in town but I knew Rick and Dave were and I didn’t want Luke hunting them down and doing whatever. They were jerks but they were also history.
“Please, get off me,” I s
aid softly.
“Ava, I spent years doin’ some crazy shit and gettin’ paid well for it. Well enough that by the time I came back to Denver for my father’s funeral I could retire.”
Ho-ly shit.
He’d been twenty-eight! What kind of “crazy shit” paid you enough to retire at twenty-eight?
I sucked in breath and stared.
“To keep from gettin’ bored, because I like it, because I’m good at it and because Lee pays me a shitload of money to do it, I work. I could walk away from it tomorrow and live a good life, even takin’ care of someone along the way.”
Whoa.
Whoa, whoa, whoa.
I was digging deeper than ever to bury that.
“I’d never fuck you over, steal your money. No fuckin’ way.”
And even deeper to bury that.
“Please, Luke, get off me.”
To my surprise he did, sliding off to my side. I immediately turned my back to him and scooted away several inches. He wanted to sleep with me fine, we’d sleep. Then tomorrow, I was moving to Wyoming.
Luke had other ideas.
His arm slid under me, hooked at my waist and hauled me back into his body. The second I made contact, his body pressed into mine and his other arm went around me.
“I want her back,” he said into my hair and his words made me shiver. I had to close my eyes tight to stop my tears and my thoughts.
He went on. “I’ve decided I like the bitchy Ava, the way you throw your attitude around is sexy as hell, but I still want the old Ava back.”
“She’s gone,” I whispered again, do not ask me why.
His arms tightened and his mouth came to my ear.
“She’s right here.”
* * * * *
You would have thought I’d never get to sleep after that but somehow I did.
Deeper in the night, when it was still dark, my body moved again not of its own volition.
Sometime during the night we’d come face-to-face. Arms around me, he rolled me over his body and to his other side. Again he hooked my leg over his hip.
“Why do you do that?” I whispered sleepily as I wrapped my arm around his waist, slid the fingers of my other hand into the hair at his chest and pressed in close to his warm, hard body.
He might have answered but I didn’t hear him because I was already back to sleep.
* * * * *
I woke and the light was trying to force its way through my shades.
I was back in the position I’d woken up in yesterday, tight against Luke’s side, arm wrapped around his abs, leg thrown over his thighs.
Shit.
I tilted my head and looked at him to see that he was still asleep. I didn’t have clear vision but even with the mini-blur his face in sleep somehow still looked hard.
I rolled away and he moved into the space I left. I stilled and looked at him but he didn’t wake.
I grabbed my glasses (kickass, black-rimmed, oval-framed, D&G) from the nightstand, yanked my thin, yellow-green, cotton cardigan off the hook on the back of the door and got the hell out of there.
I went to the bathroom, washed my face, brushed and flossed and settled my hair in a less messy but still tangled bundle on top of my head.
I put on my glasses and shrugged on the cardigan as I went downstairs to the kitchen, grabbed myself a cold diet soda from the fridge and started some coffee. I cut up fruit, enough for both Luke and me, tossed his in a bowl and put it in the fridge. I dumped a couple of globs of yogurt on mine, sprinkled it with my homemade granola (delicious with tons of sesame seeds and almonds) and did what I did every morning when it was semi-warm.
I took my bowl and diet soda, went to the back porch, sat on the bright cushion of my wicker loveseat with my heels to the edge and my knees pointed skyward. Then I stared at the sun hitting my yard and, while eating, planned my day.
First up, get rid of Luke.
Second, go workout with Riley.
Third, get some work done.
Fourth, learn how to become a lesbian.
“Babe,” I heard and my head twisted to see Luke standing in the door to the porch wearing nothing but his cargo pants, belt not done (and neither was the top button) and an intriguing trail of black hair disappearing into his waistband.
God, he was fucking hot.
So much for becoming a lesbian.
“Hey,” I said.
He gave me a sexy half-grin.
I got up and walked to him. He moved out of my way as I went into the kitchen and put my empty bowl in the sink.
“You want coffee?” I asked.
“Yeah.”
He was standing, arms crossed, hip against the counter, watching me move.
Ee-yikes!
I pulled down a cup ignoring his eyes on me (or trying, and, admittedly, failing). “You want some breakfast? Fruit, yogurt and granola?”
“Sounds good.”
I nodded and poured coffee.
“Do you take sugar or milk?”
“Black.”
I nodded again and handed him his coffee without looking at him. Then I went to the fridge to get his fruit and the yogurt, all the while gabbing.
“Sofia tried to start drinking coffee at twelve, she thought it was cool,” I told him just for something to say because I was flipping way the hell out. I set the bowl down, grabbed a spoon from the drawer and opened the yogurt. “Mom told her, if she did she would grow chest hair.” My eyes moved to his chest then lifted to his face. “When did you start drinking coffee?” I asked.
“When I was twelve.”
I burst out laughing. I couldn’t help it, it was funny.
I started to pile globs of yogurt on his fruit still smiling.
“Babe,” he called.
“What?” I kept my head bent to my task.
“Ava.”
I turned to him still smiling. I should have paid attention to what was happening with Luke and not the yogurt.
His face was hard but his eyes were ink.
Uh-oh.
“Luke –”
He pulled the yogurt out of my hand, put it on the counter and then took the spoon and tossed it in the bowl.
I moved to take a step back again reacting too late. He leaned in, his arm went around my waist and he drew me to his body. His other hand went up my back and into the hair at the base of my head.
I pulled back and his arms tightened, moving me forward.
“This isn’t a good idea,” I whispered, watching his lips come toward me.
“This is a fucking great idea,” he muttered.
Then he kissed me.
For your information, the hard kiss Luke gave me to shut me up was nothing like this.
Yes, his lips were hard but they were also effective.
Coupled with his tongue, they were ultra effective.
It took like two seconds before my knees buckled. He took my weight and I lifted my arms to wrap them around his neck, the fingers of one hand sliding across his spiky hair.
At first he teased me with his tongue, playing with me, making me want it and then taking it away so I went after it. The minute my tongue entered his mouth, he sucked it in deeper.
Ho-ly, fucking, shit.
I didn’t mean to but I moaned into his mouth, got up on tiptoe and pressed myself against him full frontal.
When I did that, his head slanted and he leaned in. His hand in my hair moved down so that his arm was wrapped around my shoulder blades, fingers at my armpit, the other one still sliced around my waist. Both arms tightened and my back arched with his lean, pressing my whole torso and hips into his.
The kiss went wild. He didn’t tease anymore, he meant serious business and I liked Luke’s serious business and so did my body.
Finally, he tore his mouth from mine and stared at me, his eyes so beyond warm and inky it was not funny. They were molten. I was in an uncontrollable Luke Lip Fog, mainly because his lips had been on my lips so I was staring at him eyes hal
f-mast, lips parted.
“Christ,” he bit off tersely, his hands going down over my ass. He lifted me up and I threw my legs around his hips and tensed my arms around his neck. Before I could think a single thought, he kissed me again and started walking.
I didn’t know how someone could kiss someone while carrying them and walking through three rooms but he did it. I thought we were going to my couch in the living room (that’s where I would have headed) but he walked straight through my living room to the stairwell entry.
I didn’t care where we were going. Lucas Stark was kissing me; his tongue in my mouth, my special girl parts pressed against his hard boy parts. He could have taken me to the moon and I wouldn’t have given a shit.
He had one foot on the bottom stair when there was a pounding at the door. Not a knock, a pound.
He stopped walking, stopped kissing me and his head jerked back while mine lifted up. We looked at each other.
The pounding came again, louder and more insistent this time.
“What the fuck?” Luke muttered.
“Ava, open the door! I know you’re on the back porch!” Sissy shouted and then pounded again while my mouth dropped open. What on earth was Sissy doing there? “Don’t make me walk back there, I have suitcases!” she yelled.
Oh shit.
“Jesus Christ,” Luke mumbled and dropped me to my feet.
“That’s Sissy,” I told him over the pounding.
“No kidding,” he was joking but he wasn’t laughing.
Eek.
Someone was not happy to be interrupted.
I’m not happy either, Bad Ava complained.
Good Ava had no comment.
I skirted passed him to the door but before I could open it, he pulled me back, arm at my waist.
“What are you doing?” I asked still over the pounding as he shoved me behind him, unlocked the deadbolt and the chain and opened the door.
Sissy was standing there, arm up, hand in mid-pound. She stopped dead when she caught sight of Luke and gawked. Full on, mouth-opened, eyes bugged out, gawked.
“Holy crap,” she breathed.
“Sissy, what are you doing here?” I asked, peeking around Luke’s body.
Sissy (and I could see the effort it took her) tore her eyes from bare-chested Luke and looked at me. She took in my messy hair, the glasses I wore only at home (if I could help it) and pajamas and shouted, “Holy crap!”