by Lilah Grey
I can feel flecks of his spit against my chest as he talks. His hands smear grease and dirt across my skin as he drags them across the swell of my breasts. Dread begins to rise inside me as I realize there’s no escape. I’m helpless…
“You had your fun. Now it’s my turn. Your ass belongs to me,” he snarls.
“The fuck it does!”
The next sound I hear is a sickening crack of bone as a foot connects with Wade’s face.
It’s Luke.
Wade groans as he falls sideways. Luke grabs him, throwing him into the center of the room. Wade skids across the floor, and before he comes to a stop, Luke pounces on him, unleashing a flurry of lefts and rights.
A part of me wants Luke to keep going. I want Wade to understand that he can’t do this. He can’t treat people this way and get away with it.
But another part of me is afraid that Luke won’t stop until Wade’s dead.
I’ve never seen Luke act like this before. I’ve never seen such… rage.
He’s not who you think he is.
I won’t let him do something stupid for me. With my hands still bound behind my back, all I’m able to do is throw myself at him. I bounce right off him, falling back onto the floor. I get to my knees.
“Stop! You’ll kill him!”
And I meant it too. Wade is trying to deflect Luke’s blows to his face, but many of them are landing. I can see blood on Luke’s fists. It spatters against the floor as it drips from his knuckles.
Luke was already in Damian’s crosshairs. What more reason to take him in than on an assault charge?
“You’re not worth it,” Luke snaps, grabbing Wade by his collar and pulling him to his feet.
I watch blood drip from Wade’s nose as Luke drags him to the front door and throws him onto the porch.
“If you so much as look at Libby again, I’ll kill you.”
The venom in Luke’s voice gives me chills.
Luke slams the door shut, causing the floor to rattle. He turns around and slides against the door. He sits there, head down as his entire body trembles.
My heart crumbles as he brings his gaze up to me, looking at me with wet eyes.
“Lippy…”
19
Libby
“I didn’t even try.” Luke’s voice is hardly louder than a whisper.
His head lolls forward and rests in his palms.
“What are you talking about?”
There’s a brief pause before he slides his hands over his face. Tufts of hair splay out in between his fingers as he runs his hands through his hair. His knuckles whiten as he grips two fistfuls.
He tugs at his hair and then releases. “I should've protected you,” he bellows. His gaze softens when his eyes meet mine, but a few seconds later it drops to the floor again. His cheeks are peppered with scruff. I don't think he's shaved since the last time we spoke. The bags under his eyes tell me he hasn't slept either.
“I should’ve taken you with me that night.” His voice is laced with pain and frustration.
“You had no other choice,” I say, rolling onto my knees.
I know Luke didn't have a choice back then. He made the only decision he could.
“You always have another choice,” he yells, leveling a fiery gaze at me that makes me cringe.
He looks away. “Sorry,” he says weakly, shaking his head as he covers his brow with his palm and lets out a defeated sigh.
My wrists are becoming raw and red from the friction of Wade’s belt against my skin. I get to my feet and walk over to Luke. “Even if you tried to take me with you that night, I wouldn’t have come. Margaret poisoning me? I wouldn’t have believed you.”
“I could’ve dragged you off with me,” he says as I sit down in front of him, turning my back to him.
The belt loosens around my wrists as he pulls it off.
“And get thrown in jail for kidnapping me? You wouldn’t have made it down the street before the cops showed up. Margaret would’ve thrown in assault charges, too.”
My breath hitches as his fingers trail down my neck, every nerve ending in my body catching fire under his touch. I bite my bottom lip as I breathe in his scent.
“Maybe you’re right. But I can’t help but think things might have turned out differently.”
I feel the tip of his finger slide across my raised scar. I glance at him over my shoulder as he wraps his hand around my forearm, his thumb rubbing my scar gently.
“I can’t believe I did this to you.”
“You didn’t do it,” I whisper, “I did it.”
“But I played a part.”
Luke wasn't the one who held the knife; it was me. It was a mistake in a moment of weakness. Sure, he played a part, but he had no idea something like this would happen. I can't fault him for my shortcomings.
I spin around and face him. His eyes are sad and defeated, the sort of look you'd see on a stray animal. Notice me. Love me.
I reach out and grab his hands. They’re trembling and swollen, and when I look down, I see his battered knuckles.
“We need to clean you up,” I say, tracing my fingers over his.
A half-smile crosses his lips as he glances at his fists and then back up to me.
“They’re not that bad,” he says.
Such a Luke response. Mr. Tough Guy. Well, how about…
I tighten my hand around his and he yelps.
“Jesus, Libby.” His eyes shoot wide open.
I raise my eyebrows. “Ready to get cleaned up now?”
He strokes the hand I'd just squeezed, narrowing his eyes. “Fine.”
“Oh, come on you big baby. I hardly squeezed your hand,” I say, standing up.
He opens his mouth to protest but shuts it. Good. I offer him my hand. He looks at it for a moment and then grabs it.
I take hold of his arm and guide him into the kitchen, trying hard to ignore how firm his muscles feel under my touch.
“Wash your hands.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Heat floods through my chest as I open the cupboard to retrieve the first aid kit. I can feel his eyes drag across my skin as he turns on the faucet. I glance sidelong at him as I reach inside. He's washing his hands, but his eyes are locked on me.
He’s not even trying to hide it.
My hands fumble around the shelf, trying to buy myself some time. My heart is thumping so hard that I’m certain that it will burst through my ribcage if I can’t get it under control. I take a few deep breaths.
He’s not that—I glance at him as he shuts off the water—attractive.
I gulp hard as I drag my gaze across his muscled arms while he shakes off excess water into the sink.
Who am I kidding?
I bite down on my lip and then let it go.
“Sit,” I tell him over my shoulder.
He smirks at me. “And here I thought I was the demanding one.”
He walks slowly but deliberately toward an open chair, pulls it out, and then sits down. “Everything okay over there?” he says.
I’d been rearranging random boxes and objects on the shelf for a while now.
“Yeah. Just found it.”
I pull out the first aid kit and wave it in the air. I cross the room, trying my best to ignore the sensations his gaze stirs inside me. I set it down on the table next to his phone. My hands tremble as I fumble with the latch.
“Hands like a surgeon’s,” Luke quips.
My cheeks flush; blood pounds in my ears. Finally, the latch clicks and I fling the lid open. I pull out what I need and kneel down in front of Luke.
I try not to notice the plunge of his V-neck, revealing part of his well-defined pecs, or the ridges and valleys of his abs. It doesn’t work. For a moment, I completely forget what I’m doing as I admire him.
“My eyes are up here,” he says, grinning at me.
Crap.
I shake it off and take his hands in mine, surveying the damage. They’re beginning to swell,
but the cuts aren’t very deep.
“Am I going to make it, Doc?” I can already picture the smirk on his lips. He thinks he’s so funny. He has his moments…
“Not if you keep it up.”
“I always keep it—FUCK!” He wrenches his hand away as I swab his wounds with alcohol. I try not to let my smile get too wide.
“Oh, quit moaning,” I say, looking up at him.
You’d have thought I’d lopped off his hand from the expression on his face. After a few moments, it softens, and he offers his hand back to me, albeit a little reluctantly.
I hold it with one hand and swab the wounds with the other. I glance at Luke’s face as he lets out a groan. He’s grimacing, but it fades as he notices me looking at him.
“Feels… great.”
I shake my head and reach for the antibacterial salve. I smother his wounds with it.
The palms of his hands are rough with calluses at the base of his fingers. He feels me tracing them with my fingertips.
“Heavy deadlifts,” he says.
I have no idea what those are, but I assume it’s some exercise.
As I wrap his hand with gauze, I imagine it around the nape of my neck, pulling me into him. I try to focus on the bandage, but traces of the night we kissed linger in the front of my mind, flickering like a flame.
“You’re good at this.”
Heat streaks across my neck as I remember all the times I'd dressed my wounds. Self-inflicted, but wounds all the same.
I place my thumb on the edge of the bandage, holding it in place. “Hold it for me,” I say, trying to focus on the bandage and not the pools of blue looking down at me.
His hand grazes mine as he holds the seam.
I grab the tape, tear off a couple of pieces, and then press them against the bandage.
“That should do it,” I say. “So long as you don’t go on another rampage.”
He snorts. “Oh, so it’s my fault?”
“Wade didn’t force your fists into his face.”
Images of Luke pounding on Wade flit through my mind. So much anger. So much rage. He was trying to protect me, and I’m thankful that he showed up when he did, but he could’ve stopped sooner.
“Sure he did,” Luke says, his temper flaring. “The moment he forced himself on you.”
His jaw tightens as he levels a hard gaze on me. “Why’d you come back anyway? Why couldn’t you just stay at my apartment like I told you to?”
“Like some caged animal? No, thanks,” I bite back, folding my arms across my chest. “I had to find out what was going on because you weren’t giving me the whole story.”
“And you had to drug Olivia, too?”
I wasn’t proud of it, but when I’m forced into a corner, I’m not going to fall to pieces.
“She’ll be fine. It was only one sleeping pill. Besides, I learned some interesting things from Damian.”
Luke grits his teeth, but keeps his mouth shut.
“He thinks you killed Margaret.”
The tension falls apart as Luke laughs. “Of course, he would.”
“He gave me quite a compelling story.”
“He’s got quite the silver tongue, too, and if I’m recalling it correctly, he used it on your best friend.”
“I don’t think he did,” I say softly as I look away.
“You saw him kissing Sarah. You told me.”
“I’m not sure anymore. I never saw his face. I assumed it was him because they were in his car, but it was probably his brother Hunter. He and Sarah are married, and they're expecting a child soon.”
Luke remains silent for a moment, considering something. I search his eyes, but they tell me nothing. Even though they’re meeting my gaze, they look through me like I’m transparent.
But then they refocus, searching my face for answers. “You don’t believe him, do you? That I killed Margaret?”
I shake my head. “No. I know you’d never do something like that.”
Even if he wanted to protect me, I knew he’d never take a life for me. I wouldn’t want him to.
I chew the inside of my mouth. “But I don’t know of anyone who had a motive to kill her, either.”
Luke leans back in the chair, raising his eyebrows. “She’d off herself if it meant I’d take the fall.”
“Maybe, but I’m sure that the cops have already ruled it out. There’s something else pointing them to you. Damian said they’re sending a unit to search your apartment in Austin.”
Luke snorts. “Searching for what?”
“I’m not sure. They found the medicine you take for your heart in Margaret’s toxicology report. And then again when they searched your car.”
I look down at the ground. I couldn’t drag my eyes back to Luke.
“I always keep a bottle of it in my glove compartment. I don’t know why they’d be in her system, but those pills alone wouldn't kill her.” He lets out a deep sigh. “Well, they can search all they like. I have nothing to hide. All that matters to me…” Luke's sentence drifts off, and I feel the back of his hand brush against my cheek. “…is that you believe me. And that you're okay.”
“I’m fine,” I say, trying to ignore the goosebumps rising along my neck, prickly and warm, “and I do believe you.”
“Lippy…”
His voice is low and rough. My heart hammers, threatening to burst as I stare into those blue eyes of his. I can hardly breathe.
He smiles. A real smile. Not the cocky, arrogant smirk I’m used to. It’s genuine and from the heart.
“Thanks,” he says, cupping my cheek with the palm of his hand.
Luke's hand is warm and comforting, and I can feel myself melting under his touch. I've ached for it for so long. He presses his thumb on my lips. I nearly take it into my mouth, but I stop myself.
“I should be the one thanking you. If you didn’t show up…” I turn my head, fighting back tears as I think about what could’ve happened.
“I’m here now. I’ll always be here for you, Libby.”
I smile, turning back to him. I love the sound of my name on his tongue. The way it rolls off it, through his kissable lips and into my ears.
“You’re so beautiful, Libby.”
I try to turn away as I feel myself blush, but Luke stops me, pressing his fingers against my chin and guiding me back to him. I've never been called beautiful, but it's something I could see myself getting used to.
“I mean it,” he says without breaking eye contact, without blinking.
Luke brushes my lower lip gently with his thumb as his hand cups my cheek. I can smell the trace amount of cologne on his wrist. I bite down on my lip, dragging my teeth along it as I let it go.
“I’m not making you nervous am I, Lippy?” he rasps.
I smile and shake my head. “No.”
His fingers weave through my hair as he slides his hand to the back of my head. I let out a gasp as he grips a fistful, tugging harshly down. My lips part as I fill my lungs with ragged breaths. I want nothing more than to taste those lips again.
I’ve always tried to ignore my feelings for Luke, always ran away from them when they welled up each time we crossed paths. When you live under the same roof and share a bedroom wall, that’s a lot of running for one person. I was tired of running, and if I were to venture a guess, the feeling was mutual.
Luke’s eyes narrow as he studies my face. “What are you doing to me, Lippy?”
I’m not sure how to respond. I reach out and touch his face, rough with scruff. “I’m not sure what—”
The rest of my response is lost in his mouth as he presses his lips into mine. It’s gentle at first, but then it evolves into something that’s less a kiss than it is a forceful merging of two mouths. I can’t tell where my mouth ends and his begins, and at this point, it doesn’t even matter.
Nothing matters except for this moment.
20
Libby
“Have you ever been fucked on a kitchen table before?
” Luke rasps in my ear as he brushes my hair to the side.
A split-second later he takes my earlobe between his teeth, nibbling, sucking on it gently before his lips trail kisses down my neck. I can hardly breathe as warmth spreads across my chest, settling a few seconds later between my thighs.
I’d never been fucked before. I’d had sex, sure, but I hardly think it would be comparable to what Luke had in store for me.
I shake my head. “Never.”
Every delicate touch on my skin is amplified. My body buzzes with delicious electricity, anticipating where Luke would go next.
“You’re so fucking sexy, Libby,” he growls, lust flooding his eyes.
He breaks away from me, sending the chair he'd been sitting on skidding across the floor as he swipes everything off the table.
I press my hand against my stomach and take a deep breath, trying to steady my nerves as I watch Luke. Air rushes by me as he pulls me to my feet, spins me around, and forces me onto the table.
My legs tingle as they dangle off the edge. I can’t stay still under Luke’s gaze. My body writhes and wriggles as I slide my hands across my chest, down my stomach, and along my inner thigh.
He’s smirking at me.
“What am I going to do with you?”
I could think of a few things. Well, one in particular.
I moan as Luke’s hands slide across the length of my thighs. His thumbs slip beneath my shorts and panties, edging dangerously close to my sex before he drags his hands back down my thighs. When they reach my knees, he forces my legs open.
“Come here,” he demands.
Before I can respond, he hooks his hands around the back of my legs and drags me into him. His cock pushes against my pussy, and I wrap my legs around his waist, pulling him closer. I reach out as though to beckon him to me, but he snatches my wrists and pins them above my head. Desire swells inside me as he towers over me.
I writhe under the weight of him. Pure muscle. His warm breath licks my skin as he studies me like a lion stalking his prey, waiting for the right moment. His lips find mine again.
He lets my wrists go, and I latch onto him, nails digging into the plane of his muscled back. Thick, ropy, delicious. I was dying to see what he'd been hiding under that shirt.
