Rock Chick 05 Revenge (16 page)

“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 half-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
!”

I slid in front of Luke, grabbed Sissy’s still-upraised wrist and pulled her into the entryway.

“What are you doing here?” I repeated.

She was looking between Luke and I and blinking slowly.

“What?” she asked in a dazed voice.

“You’re supposed to be in Wyoming.”

She focused on me. “The cops called, said you were kidnapped. Since it had to do with Dom and they thought whoever it was might come after me next, the Denver boys warned the local authorities in Wyoming and they came by my Mom’s house to talk about protection. I packed up early this morning and hauled ass down here.” Then realizing where she was and the current scenario of our lives her eyes narrowed. “Why didn’t you tell me you were kidnapped?”

Uh-oh.

“Um…” I mumbled.

“I can’t believe you didn’t tell me you were kidnapped.”

“Sissy, honey –”

“When a girl gets laid, she tells her best friend. When a girl finds a lump, she tells her best friend. When a girl finds a kickass shade of nail polish, she tells her best friend. And, I might add, when a girl gets kidnapped,
she tells her best friend!
” Sissy was shouting when she finished.

“Sissy, calm down.”
 

“I will not calm down,” she was still yelling and she turned her eyes to Luke. “Where were you when this happened, stud?”

Oh no. Sissy was channeling Olivia Newton-John from
Grease
. It was never good when Sissy channeled Sandy’s Pink Lady from the finale. Sissy didn’t normally lose her temper; usually sweet as pie, totally Sandy. She had not a single thread of Rizzo in her. When Sissy channeled Pink Lady Sandy, the results were disastrous.

I chanced a glance at Luke and he was smiling his sexy half-grin.

Shit.

“Luke, can you get her bags?” I asked and didn’t wait for his response. I pulled Sissy into and through the living room directly to the kitchen.

I stopped and turned to her. “Pull yourself together,” I hissed.

“Pull myself… pull myself…” she stammered, eyes wide. “Pull myself together!” she shouted then, still shouting, she cried, “Last time I talked to you, you were going out on the town, had everything sorted with these shit-hot private eye guys and were sworn off men forever. Hours later, you’ve been kidnapped, Mr. Beefcake’s in there barely clothed and you’re in your pajamas and
glasses
for God’s sake!” She stopped and looked around in mock confusion. “Have I entered an alternate universe?”

“I haven’t had a chance to call.”

“That’s no excuse.”

“We got home late.”

“
We?
”

“Sissy!”

She glared at me. Then I watched as her face fell, the anger faded, her eyes started shimmering and Pink Lady Sandy was a memory.

“I got my best friend kidnapped,” she whispered and then burst into tears.

I pulled her into my arms and held on tight. As I absorbed her shaking sobs into my body, I double-vowed revenge against Dominic Fucking Vincetti (rat-bastard).

“Sissy,” I murmured into the top of her hair and that was when I saw Luke leaning against the doorframe between the living and dining rooms. He’d put on a t-shirt, done up his belt, his eyes were on me and I could see the warmth in them from across the room.

Crapity, crap, crap,
crap
.

“You could have been hurt,” Sissy mumbled.

“I wasn’t,” I said, totally unable to take my eyes from Luke.
 

“You could have,” Sissy went on.

“I’m fine,” I assured her.

She looked up at me, saw my eyes and followed them to Luke. She realized what she was about, pulled out of my arms and swiped at her face.

“Hey Luke,” Sissy said in belated greeting and I had to press my lips together not to laugh.

“Sissy,” Luke replied.