Rock Chick 05 Revenge (27 page)

Luke stared at me, one beat then two. Then surprisingly he dropped his hand from my neck and walked away. I watched as he lifted his hands to his shoulder blades, pulled off his tee and dropped it to the floor (incidentally this annoyed me, considering I’d spent ten minutes that afternoon gathering his clothes and throwing them in the laundry hamper in the utility area that was tucked behind the bathroom). Then he sat on the bed and yanked off his boots. Then he stood and started to unbuckle his pants.

Oh crap.

I turned and sat back down at the desk, ignoring what his actions might mean to me. I heard drawers opening and closing then rustling. When I heard the elevator doors slide open, I twisted in my chair and saw Luke walk into the elevator, wearing running clothes (all black, except his shoes). The elevator doors closed and he was gone.

Weird.

Way weird.

I took a deep breath, got back to work and tried not to wonder about Luke (and failed).
 

About an hour later he came back. I watched from my chair as he walked directly to the bathroom without a word to me. I heard the shower running while I closed down my files and shut down the computer. I decided to move away from Sailor Jerry because I needed to be drunk for whatever was going to happen next like I needed a hole in the head. I found a box of Sandra Whoever-She-Was’s peppermint tea and was boiling the kettle when Luke came out of the shower, wearing nothing but a silvery-gray towel around his hips.

Seriously, he was worse than Captain Kirk. Luke hardly
ever
had a shirt on.

I looked away from his body, bit my bottom lip and watched the kettle boil. I felt him behind me and tensed. My hair was swept off my shoulders and his lips touched my neck.

Um.

What?

His arm slid around my waist and he pulled me into his body. “You want to order Chinese or pizza?” he asked.

I blinked at the kettle.

What was happening? Where was Pissed Off Luke? He sounded completely calm, normal, un-pissed-off.

“You have tons of food in your fridge. You don’t eat it, it’ll go bad,” I told him.

“You wanna cook?” he asked.

“I could cook,” I answered.

“Works for me,” he said and let me go.

Holy cramoly.

What was going on?

I made tea. Luke put on black sweatpants with a thick line of dark gray running up the sides and a black tee with a black insignia you could barely see on the front that looked like a set of wings. I made dinner (Sandra’s long and happy life with Luke healthy living options of salmon fillets, broccoli and cous cous). I brought the food to the couch where Luke was watching TV. I sat down and we both ate silently. Then I took the plates back to the kitchen and did the dishes. When I was done, I came back and sat on the couch.

This was freaking me out. He didn’t carry me around, making grand statements about how he was going to fuck me, how I belonged to him, demanding I not go out with Ren. He seemed relaxed and mellow. I didn’t like it and I didn’t trust it one bit.

I started to watch the game, my mind sliding from thought to thought when Luke’s arm came out and pulled me against his side. He was slouched into the couch, feet up on the coffee table. I decided not to poke the sleeping tiger by struggling. I slouched pressed next to him and put feet up on the coffee table by his.

After awhile I could take it no more. I wanted to allow myself to sit next to Luke, pressed to his side, in a happy, pretend world of what it could be like with Luke. Instead, I was freaking out wondering what he was playing at.

I got up announcing I was going to bed. Luke let me go without a word. I went to the bathroom, got ready for bed, spent some time trying to decide if the Triumph tee was the way to go (I went for it, it was snuggly) and I came out of the bathroom.

Hmm. Conundrum.

I
should
sleep on the couch, make a statement. But Luke was watching the game on the couch. I figured I could move to the couch later and I got in bed.

Half an hour later, Luke switched off the TV and I heard him moving around the loft. He turned off the lamp and he took off his clothes (probably dropping them to the floor, argh!). The bed moved and he got in.

I tensed. He didn’t touch me.

I kept tense. He still didn’t touch me.

This made me tenser.

My mind whirled. Maybe he’d given up. Maybe he thought I wasn’t worth the effort.

I didn’t know what to think of that. I should have been relieved but I had to admit I was not.

You really messed things up this time,
Good Ava sounded angry.

That’s okay. Ren’s taking you out to dinner on Tuesday and Theresa Bianchi said he was a GOD in bed,
Bad Ava was moving on to new game.

We don’t want Ren, we want Luke. We’ve ALWAYS wanted Luke,
Good Ava snapped at Bad Ava.

We’ll take what we can get. Ren Zano is hardly sloppy seconds, that man is FINE,
Bad Ava informed Good Ava.

I forced my body to relax and my mind to go blank. I was drifting off to sleep when Luke tagged me around the waist, turning me to my back.

“What are you doing?” I asked, finding myself instantly alert.

He didn’t answer. He covered me with his body and before I knew it his hands were in the Triumph tee and it was up and over my head. He didn’t pull it off, he stopped it when my arms were up, the tee bunched at my elbows.

I was taking this as a sign he hadn’t given up.

Ho-ly crap!

“What are you doing?” I screeched.

He twisted his torso, nabbed something off the nightstand and came back to me. I heard a clink and realized what was happening.

“No you don’t!” I bucked, twisted, struggled against his heavy weight and tried to shove off the tee.

Luke “helped” and the tee was gone in a flash. Wordlessly, he seized my wrists, slapped a bracelet on one and then, without apparent effort and clearly with a good deal of experience working with struggling people, the other and I was cuffed to the bed.

I stilled, a tremor of fear (and excitement, I had to admit) ran through me and I glared at him in the dimly lit dark.

“Uncuff me,” I demanded.

He ignored my demand and declared, “Now, payment.”

Ho-ly
shit
.

Definitely not giving up. His mouth came to my neck and ran the length of it. A shiver shuddered through me.

At my ear he said, “We’ll save punishment for later. Coupla days,” he informed me conversationally before his lips moved along my jaw then to my mouth. “You gave me a fuckin’ great idea.”
 

Uh-oh.

I didn’t think that
I
would think it was a great idea.
 

He went on, proving me irrevocably correct. “I’m thinkin’ I’ll watch while you make yourself come.”

Oh… my…
God
.

Me and my bright ideas. I was
such
a dork!

“Get off!” I cried.

He kissed me. I bucked and twisted these being the only options for me. He didn’t budge.

I tore my mouth from his. “Seriously, Luke, this is
not
cool.”

His hands ran down my sides and I couldn’t help it, my body trembled because his hands on me felt nice. I knew he felt it, he had to have felt it.

Hell and damnation.

“No?” he asked, sounding satisfied.

Yep, he felt it.

“Go to hell!” I snapped.

He touched his mouth to mine then he moved lower, his mouth on my neck, my throat. Then lower, spending some time at my breasts. Then lower, at my belly. By the time his tongue traced the top edge of my panties, it was like I hadn’t had an orgasm a few hours ago; it was like I hadn’t had one in ten years.
 

He went lower and my legs opened immediately in invitation.

Damn it all to hell.

He kissed me over my panties. I moaned and lifted my hips, more than ready for him. His hands slid under my ass and that was it. All vows to vibrators and swearing off men were history.
 

This was quite simply hot. His mouth moved on me over my panties and it felt good. Even better, it felt naughty and slightly pervy not being able to touch him. I wanted to touch him, needed to put my hands to his head in encouragement, keep him there and not let him stop. Not being able to do that, having no control over the situation, was sexy as all hell.

He moved away and I made a sound of protest low in my throat. But he only moved to pull my panties down my legs. Then he was back and he hit the target immediately.

“Oh my God,” I breathed, bucking now to get closer to his mouth. I was out-of-control moaning and panting. I couldn’t help it and didn’t try.

It was better than that morning, it was better than my self-gratification that afternoon (
far
better), it was better than anything I’d ever had.

It was exquisite.

I was there,
right there
and I gasped, “Luke.”

Then his cell rang. His mouth stilled. Then his head came up.

Oh no. No, no, no, no,
no
. Not again.

“No!” I cried aloud.

He moved up and over me. “Fuck,” he muttered, sounding pissed and full of regret at the same time.

It was the regret that penetrated my pre-orgasm fog.

I stared at him. “Go back. Don’t stop,” I whispered.

He kept his body on me but reached to the nightstand.

“Luke, please,” I begged and I didn’t care what I sounded like, this was not going to happen to me again.

“Sorry, babe. That’s Lee’s tone,” Luke whispered, hand at my jaw, thumb running along my lower lip. One thing you could say, he did sound sorry,
very
sorry. But I didn’t care that he sounded sorry, I didn’t care at all.

He flipped open the phone. “Yeah?”

This was
not
happening.

He listened for a few beats then said, “I’ll be there in ten.”

What?

He flipped the phone shut.

“You have got to be kidding me,” I breathed, half-still turned on, half-totally pissed off, not just at him but at myself.

“Lee’s workin’. He’s in a situation where he needs backup. The boys on call are busy with somethin’ else. I gotta go,” Luke told me.

I glared at him not knowing what to think.
 

He looked at me, likely sensing my mental battle to decide how I felt that he’d leave me in this state to go do backup for Lee so he said softly, “No way I’d leave, Ava, but Lee needs a man at his back. He knows you’re here and wouldn’t call unless it was important. I have to go.”

Fuck
that
.

I kept glaring at him. He ignored the glare and touched my mouth with his then moved away.

Then things, already bad, got worse.

He pulled the covers over my body but left me cuffed to the bed. Then he got up and started dressing. In stunned, angry silence, I watched him pull on his pants then tug on his shirt. He sat on the edge of the bed to put on his boots.

Finally I called, “Luke?”

“Yeah?”

“Did you forget something?” I asked.

“What?”

“Uncuff me.”

He tugged on his second boot, twisted toward me and put his lips to my jaw. “Quick, three things,” he said there.

I got the feeling that these three things weren’t going to be good for me. My body, already solid with fury, felt like it was going to shatter in a million pieces.

He lifted his head but kept his face close to mine, his hand at my belly over the covers. “One,” he started. “Leavin’ you cuffed means you can’t do anything stupid.”

One, two, three, four…

“Two,” he continued. “I like thinkin’ of you cuffed naked to my bed.”

Five, six, seven, eight…

“Three,” he went on. “This won’t take long and we’ll finish when I get back.”

Nine, ten, eleven, twelve, thirteen, fourteen, fifteen, sixteen…

Nope, it wasn’t going to work.

“You leave me cuffed, I’ll never speak to you again,” I told him.

“Babe,” now he sounded amused, “that’s a good thing. You got a mouth on you.”

Then to my utter disbelief, he was gone.

* * * * *

Luke had been wrong. It
did
take long. So long, I had time to let it penetrate that Luke was off somewhere being the man at Lee’s back during a “situation”. I didn’t want to care but I got worried. Then I got scared. The longer it took for him to come back, the more scared I became. I should have been scared about being cuffed to a bed if something happened to Luke, and thus, who knew how long it would take for someone to find me, if ever (I had, in my state, forgotten about the cameras). Instead, I was just scared for Luke.