Rock Chick Revenge

by Ashley, Kristen

  I turned to him and felt my hold on my temper slip.

  This wasn’t surprising. I’d had a rough night, a tough day and a killer of a week. I didn’t have any control of my life, none, zip, nada, and Luke was scaring the shit out of me. Not in a way where I feared for my safety, in a way where I feared for my heart.

  And that was worse.

  My temper-hold slipped so much, my hands went to my hips, my foot came out and the Barlow Bitch Blood started to flash through my veins.

  “You were straight, Luke, so I’ll be straight too and this time I want you to listen,” I told him, voice chock full of attitude. “I’ve had a pretty hectic day, what with Dom’s Streetcar Named Desire antics and you fighting with Ren in a parking lot, though I still cannot believe you fought in the parking lot of a bar. And ended up bloody in the process! Then throwing a light across the room for God’s sake. I mean, who does that? Now you’re going to have to go out and buy a new lamp and that was a nice lamp. And I want to know, who’s going to clean it up? Not me, I’ll tell you that right now. Next time I throw a lamp, I’ll clean it up. New rule, the person that throws the lamp cleans it up.”

  I took a deep breath, mainly because I’d run out of oxygen, and kept on going. “Not to mention all your straight talk. No one talks like you. It’s nuts. And you should know it freaks me way the hell out.”

  I watched as Luke threw the covers back and got out of bed. For the first time, I took this as the warning sign it was but I was pissed off enough that I held my stance even as he walked toward me, his naked and, even though he was fuzzy without my contacts in (it must be said), magnificent body illuminated by the streetlights.

  I ignored the thrill of fear (and the thrill of something else entirely) running down my spine and kept ranting. “So, I’m out of patience with all this,” I told him in my best bitchy tone and tilted my head back to squint at him when he stopped within a few inches of me. I lifted my finger and started poking him in the chest repeatedly to make my point. “Get it through that skull of yours, Lucas Stark, we’re fuck buddies, end of story. Nothing more. Furthermore,” I went on, warming to my theme and still poking him. “I’m going to warn you that if you keep me cornered, you’ll have to face the consequences.”

  I had no idea what consequences he would face but I thought it sounded good.

  I stopped ranting and Luke just looked at me.

  Finally, he asked, “You through?”

  I thought about it a second then said, “Yeah.”

  His hand shot up and his fingers wrapped around my wrist. I thought he’d jerk me to him but instead he lifted my hand, his thumb sliding across my palm to open my fist and then he brought my hand to his mouth.

  I watched in fascinated silence as he kissed my palm and I felt, with a definite knee wobble, his tongue touch me there.

  Ho-ly crap.

  That was nice.

  Just as quickly as I lost control of my temper, I lost control again, this time it was my temper that slid away.

  When he took my hand from his mouth, he used my wrist to pull me toward him slowly.

  As I moved toward him, he asked me, “You wanna do it against the wall again?”

  I blinked to try to clear the Luke Palm-Tongue-Touch Fog and, even though I seriously liked wall sex, I said, “No, absolutely not.”

  “The floor?” Luke asked, still pulling me to him and I felt my breasts brush against his chest just as I felt my stomach pitch deliciously.

  “I’m sleeping on the futon,” I persevered, valiantly ignoring my stomach.

  In turn, he ignored my declaration and asked in a soft, sexy voice, “You wanna take a bath together?”

  Hmm, taking a bath with Luke. Wow, I figured that would be nice, his skin all wet, soapy and slippery.

  Get a hold of yourself, girl! neither Good Ava nor Bad Ava said, instead this came direct from my brain.

  I shook my head sharply to clear it and stomped my foot on the floor.

  “No!” I snapped.

  I was nearly full frontal with him when his other hand came up to toy with a short, Grandma ruffle at my high collar.

  “You buy this?” he asked, changing the subject and I found myself blinking in confusion again.

  “No. Mom bought it for me for Christmas.”

  “You like it?” he went on.

  For some reason I answered honestly, “Not particularly.”

  Before I knew what he was about, his hand fisted on the collar, he gave a rough yank and the material tore from collar to waist.

  I sucked in a stunned breath and stood stock-still as his other hand came to the tear and he used both hands to rip it again, straight to the hem.

  “We’ll fuck in your bed then,” he finished calmly, sliding the material off my shoulders and it fell on the floor at my feet. Then his fingers hooked into my panties and he slid them down until they joined the torn nightgown on the floor.

  I didn’t make a move or a noise. I couldn’t. I was in shock.

  He picked me up and still I didn’t move to resist mainly because I was in the throes of such a huge freak out it had to be the hugest freak out I’d ever experienced. In fact, it might have been the hugest freak out in the history of the world.

  Luke Stark, the boy from across the street, just literally tore my clothes off.

  Ho-ly shit.

  “You just…” I cleared my throat and I didn’t care what that betrayed, “tore my Mom’s nightgown right off me.”

  He set me in bed and followed me down. “The nightgown was ugly as hell and your mother was makin’ a point,” he said as he pulled the covers up over us. I tried to sit up but he shifted me into his arms, pulling me down so we were on our sides, face-to-face. “I see your mother hasn’t changed.”

  He was right, she hadn’t changed but he still ripped a nightgown off my body.

  “I think you may just be crazy,” I blurted. “People don’t act like you. They don’t handcuff people to themselves or to beds. They don’t fight in parking lots. They don’t carry people around everywhere. They don’t tear clothes off women’s bodies.” When I finished, my voice was pitched two octaves higher than normal.

  “I only carry you around. You’re always tryin’ to get somewhere I don’t want you to be or doin’ somethin’ I don’t want you to do.”

  I pushed against his chest but his arms just got tighter. “That doesn’t make it any better!” Now I was kind of shouting. “In fact, that makes it worse!”

  “You scared of me?” he asked, still calm as could be.

  “No,” I snapped and in a way it was the truth. I wasn’t scared of him because he tore a nightgown off my body, I was scared of him for other reasons, reason’s I wasn’t about to share.

  “You feel cornered?”

  “Fuck yes!” Now I was yelling and totally telling the truth.

  I saw the white of his teeth flash. “Good,” he murmured.

  Then he kissed me. It was long, hot, heavy and even though he’d given me an against-the-wall orgasm less than an hour ago, I started to get turned on again.

  Shit!

  When his lips detached, I thought he was going to take things further. Instead, he turned me so my back was to his front, his arms came around me tight and I felt his lips at the back of my neck for a quick kiss before he buried his face in my hair.

  I thought we might have spoon sex, and I had to admit I was kind of looking forward to it, but as the moments slid by he just held me.

  I told myself it was being in my own bed again that made the tension flow out of my body so that I relaxed into him. I told myself it was not his warmth, his arms around me, his breath against my neck and the fact that he was Luke Stark, the man I’d loved since I could remember.

  I was beginning to fall into dreamland when his hand came up and cupped my breast. I lost any drowsiness I had and held my breath. Even though his thumb idly stroked the inside curve from nipple to chest, it was clear this was just an affectionate touch and he wasn’t t
aking it anywhere.

  “I’m guessin’ from your behavior you didn’t feel it when I fucked you against the wall,” he noted softly to the back of my head.

  Whatever “it” was, I didn’t feel it. I also didn’t share this. I kept silent.

  He accepted my silence and just held me, stroking my breast.

  After awhile, he spoke again. “You wanna tell me why you were standin’ in Zano’s arms?”

  Eek!

  No, I most certainly did not want to tell him mainly because I didn’t really know myself. Therefore, I kept my silence.

  He waited then his voice came again. “All right, we’ll let that go. Instead, maybe you wanna tell me why you didn’t call me after my Dad’s funeral.”

  Any relaxation I felt left my body in an instant and it went solid. I also kept silent.

  Luke waited again, his thumb stilled then he sighed. “I’ll take that as a no.”

  I bit my lip as his hand moved away from my breast and both his arms wrapped around my midriff, pulling me deeper into him as I felt his head move, his mouth coming to my ear.

  “This starts to go bad, Ava, what we have, we’ll talk about it. We’ll work on it. I’m not your Dad, I’m not one day just gonna up and leave you.”

  “You already did, for eight years.”

  Oh no. Did that just come out of my mouth? And did it sound like an accusation?

  “Babe,” he murmured before he buried his face in the side of my neck. The murmur was soft, gentle, affectionate and there was what sounded almost like a growl running through it and his obvious emotion made me shiver.

  Yep, it just came out of my mouth. Over and over, I kept giving myself away.

  Time to go back to silence.

  Luke didn’t feel like silence. He turned me to face him again and I didn’t fight it (I wouldn’t win anyway). Once he got me in position, as a defense mechanism I buried my face in his throat. I didn’t want to look at him and I didn’t want him looking at me. I didn’t want to have this conversation either but I wasn’t going to resist. Resistance would just make it last longer and I needed to sleep, to get this night over with and take up the fight again tomorrow. He eventually had to leave. He had a job, even if he didn’t need it. When I was alone again, I’d figure out what was next for me. I was still leaning toward plastic surgery and creating my own disappearance in the depths of Mexico.

  “Jules asked me once why I was working for Lee,” Luke said, interrupting my thoughts.

  I licked my lips and then pressed them together. I didn’t want to talk about Jules but I wasn’t about to share that.

  “I didn’t tell her,” he went on.

  This I found surprising.

  “She didn’t have the right to know,” Luke continued.

  This I also found surprising.

  “You have the right to know,” he finished.

  Oh… my… God.

  My body went still at the meaning behind his words and he kept talking. “I was recruited by an organization. I can’t tell you who, no one knows but Lee, Mace and Monty and, I’m sorry babe, but it has to stay that way.”

  My body stayed still, I stayed silent and he kept going. “They trained me and sent me on assignments, mostly out of the country. I made a shitload of money and was good at what I did, but I wasn’t proud of it. The minute my contract was up, I got out. On one of the assignments, I met Monty. He tracked me down when I got out and he and Lee talked me back into working. What I do now is local, it’s a helluva lot less risky and I’m proud of it.”

  I couldn’t believe he was telling me this. I didn’t even want to know this. On the one hand, it scared me. On the other hand, I was moved that he’d share.

  I kept silent.

  “Beautiful, you listenin’ to me?” he asked.

  I stayed silent but I nodded. I had to nod. Even if I didn’t want to be having a heart-to-heart with Luke, I knew through to my soul it would be way out of line if I didn’t acknowledge his sharing.

  His hand went up my back and twisted in my hair. With a gentle tug he pulled my head back so I was looking at him.

  Then he started talking again, his voice such a low rumble I felt it against my skin. “During those eight years, Ava Babe, I wasn’t someone you’d want to know.”

  I couldn’t stop myself, I didn’t even try. My hand went to his cheek and my body pressed against his.

  “Luke,” I whispered.

  I wanted to tell him there was nothing he could do, no one he could be that I didn’t want to know and I didn’t even care what scary shit he did or who he did it for. That was how much he meant to me.

  But I couldn’t. I couldn’t open myself up like that.

  Luke went on. “A few weeks after I left that life, my Dad died. I tried to reconnect with you, then you left me for five years.”

  My heart lurched because there was definitely accusation in his tone.

  I closed my eyes and tilted my head forward so my forehead was resting on his chin.

  He kissed me there then kept talking. “Ava, I need you to tell me why you didn’t pick up the phone.”

  “I can’t.” My voice was so soft even I had trouble hearing it.

  “You will,” he replied in a voice nearly as soft as mine and it made me shiver.

  He felt the shiver, his hand left my hair and his arms wrapped around me.

  I waited for him to say more but he didn’t. Instead, he held me while I processed all he said, tied it in a bundle and buried it deep. He kept holding me until the tension ebbed out of me again.

  And he kept holding me until I fell asleep.

  * * * * *

  As usual, sometime deep in the night, Luke pulled me over his body.

  Not as usual, he stopped when I was on top of him.

  His hands went over my bottom, down the backs of my thighs to my knees and then he pulled my legs up so I was straddling him. As his hand went between our bodies, my head came up.

  “What’s going on?” I mumbled in a sleepy voice.

  He didn’t answer. Instead he did an ab curl, sitting up, taking me with him at the same time he guided himself inside me.

  “Oh my God,” I whispered at the shock and the thrill of it.

  One of his arms hooked around my waist, the other one went into my hair and tilted my head down to his.

  “I want you to feel it,” he told me, his voice husky.

  The husky voice mixed with him filling me worked like a charm. I was instantly way turned on and I started to move. His arm went from around my waist, his hand slid down my arm, taking hold of my hand and pulling it between our bodies.

  I kept moving, sliding up and down on top of him, my lips on his as he brought our hands between us and his fingers pressed mine to where we joined.

  I had to admit, I liked the feel of us. We felt sexy and hot and wet and having my fingers touch our physical connection opened something inside me, something I really wanted to stay closed.

  “Luke,” I breathed.

  “Quiet, beautiful. Just move.”

  I did as he asked and moved, slowly, rhythmically, all the while he held our hands between us, his other hand in my hair, tilting my head down, slanted so my mouth was on his. Every once in awhile, he’d kiss me, softly, touching his tongue to mine briefly and pulling away.

  It didn’t take long before I felt it – what he was talking about, what he wanted me to feel.

  It was our connection, not just our bodies but more. It was about history, it was about understanding, it was about the fact that we fit together and the fact that everything was just, simply exactly as it should be.

  It was right.

  When I felt it, it overwhelmed me, shot straight through that opened part of me right to the soft, vulnerable spot I kept guarded and even that felt right.

  The tears came to my eyes spilling over silently, falling down my cheeks but I kept moving.

  “There it is,” Luke whispered, his voice had gone from husky to hoarse.

 
; “I can’t do this, Luke,” I whispered back.

  “You can.”

  I pulled my hand from his but only so I could wrap both my arms tight around his shoulders and I kept moving. “I can’t.”

  “So you can’t. We’ll do it together. That’s the point, babe.”

  I knew that. Now, I knew it.

  “You don’t get it,” I told him, still moving.