by Maria Luis
His thoughts derailed as her cool hands slipped under his T-shirt and grazed his abs. “Hell,” he grunted, shifting his hands from her head to her wrists. Her blue gaze lifted, and the soft look in her eyes nearly brought him to his knees.
They needed to stop. They needed to stop right now before things went too far and he forgot all of the reasons why she deserved so much better than what he could offer her. They needed to stop right now before Luke threw caution to the wind and took her home, consequences be damned.
She lifted onto her toes, wrapped a hand around the back of his neck, and dragged his face down to hers, effectively eclipsing any fight he had left in him. It wasn’t a good idea to pretend—it never had been—but as her lips coaxed his into a playful dance of tongues and nipping teeth, Luke couldn’t think of one good reason why he couldn’t pretend that life was different. Not for forever—he knew that would never happen. Just for this one moment, where the hottest woman he’d ever met wanted him and returned the feeling tenfold.
Squirreling away his conscience, Luke took control of the kiss, his hands tracing the outline of her perfect body through her jacket. He teased her with little nibbles at her lower lip, with his fingers playing with the hem of her shirt. Lust pulsed in his veins, making it hard to hear anything over the throbbing in his head and their symphony of sighs (her) and harsh curses (him).
Who knew how long they would have stood there, their frantic hands tugging at clothes they couldn’t remove out in the open, if fate hadn’t intervened like a vengeful bitch.
Luke almost wished someone had stumbled across them. An awkward conversation about public indecency would have been more digestible than what actually happened.
One minute he was dragging his fingers up under her shirt, aiming straight for Ground Zero (her bra) and in the next, he was on the cement at her feet, clutching at his hip and biting back a wave of nausea.
“Oh, my God,” she uttered in shock, immediately dropping to her haunches and running careful hands over his sweatpants-clad legs. “Are you okay? Luke, tell me you’re okay.”
He nearly smiled at the panic in her voice. “I’m okay.”
Her hands stilled momentarily, as though she were debating the truth of that statement, before continuing her careful scan. “You’re not okay; I know you’re not okay.”
Luke grimaced when her fingers accidentally prodded a particularly sore spot. “You told me to tell you that I was okay.”
Huffing her annoyance, she muttered, “I didn’t tell you to lie to me about it.”
They both knew that the lie was more for her benefit than his. “Is this the point where I apologize?”
“No, this is the point where you let me help you into my car.” She slipped her hand under his armpit and gave a quick tug. He didn’t even budge. “Okay, I’m going to need your help here. You must double me in weight.”
“I’m fine.” This is what he got for getting carried away. He’d been so swept up in the feel of her that he’d ignored all the signs he’d come to recognize quite well: heightened pain, unsteady stance, blurry vision.
No better way to remind both yourself and her that you aren’t the man for her than this, he thought bitterly.
“Luke,” she was saying firmly, “you aren’t okay. Your leg collapsed.”
More like his hip gave out, but it was a moot point anyway. Snagging his cane from where it had clattered to the pavement, he muttered, “It happens.”
“Often?”
Pretty much. “Not every day,” he told her, already mentally scanning his next few movements. He’d shoot his left foot before asking her to haul his sorry ass off the ground, which left him to awkwardly rearrange his legs and shift onto all fours like a wounded animal. “I need to get home.”
He’d left a bottle of meds on the kitchen countertop. Most days Luke stayed away from the stuff, wary of finding himself in need of the painkillers to function on a daily basis. Former military personnel and painkiller addictions went together about as well as cheesecake and strawberries. He’d seen way too many good men and women succumb to relief in the form of a pill. Luke didn’t want to end up the same way.
But today, right now . . . the pain in his hip was so strong he felt as though the pins the doc had wedged into his body were on fire.
Anna’s soft hands fell to the space between his shoulder blades. “Let me drive you home.”
That was the last thing he wanted. In the span of five minutes, he’d gone from being in control to having no control of his limbs whatsoever. The idea of sitting in the passenger’s seat as she navigated the dark streets to his apartment was as close to his version of hell as it existed at the moment.
Shrugging off her touch, Luke struggled to his feet. “I’ll call a cab. You go home to Julian.”
“Julian’s with Shae and Brady. I can easily drop you off and grab him on my way home. It’s not out of the way, I promise.”
Her kindness threatened to undo him. He wanted her to be repulsed by him, or at the very least annoyed. Anna Bryce was none of those things, though. She stepped close to him, reaching up to scrape his hair back from his face in a move that felt uncomfortably familiar. “You scared about what might happen if I drive you?” She withdrew her touch and Luke felt the absurd urge to nuzzle her hand. Absurd, because he was not a nuzzler. “I promise to leave you with your innocence intact.”
His innocence? That was laughable. Luke had left his innocence somewhere in Fort Lost in the Woods, Missouri (better known as Fort Leonard Wood, home of army basic training) at the age of eighteen. “We’re not going down that road again.”
She cocked her head to the side. “Which road?”
“The one where you dare me into doing whatever it is you’re wanting.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Sure you don’t.” Luke clamped his hand down on the grip of his cane. Give him ten more minutes and he’d be out for the count again. He’d done too much today, and following Anna to her car after her date hadn’t helped matters. “I’m going to call a cab and you’re going to bring yourself home. And”—he lifted his free hand when she opened her mouth to argue—“because I won our little bet, you’re going to have to agree. Rules are rules, Blondie.”
She grumbled something under her breath.
“What was that?”
Her blue eyes narrowed on his face. “Nothing.”
“I don’t believe you.”
She did not look amused. “I said that I hate playing by the rules.”
Desire hit him square in the gut. Whatever this chemistry between them was, it was dangerous to his well-being. She had no idea how close she’d come to playing with fire. “Rules come in handy,” he murmured, trying to focus on every reason why they shouldn’t finish what they’d started. “Go home, Anna.”
Fiddling with the pendants on her car keys, she averted her face from his, her blonde hair falling to shield her from his gaze. “Will you text me when you get home?”
“I’m a big boy. The wolf won’t get me tonight.”
“Please.”
She didn’t even realize that she was killing him. He didn’t deserve her worry. He didn’t deserve her kindness. Panic clawed at his chest, threatening to submerge him. The first time he’d felt anxiety like this, he’d been knee deep in mud during basic training. Artificial gunfire had ripped open above his head while Luke turned immobile in the cold-as-hell mud. His brothers-in-arms had slithered past him, grabbing handfuls of mud as they propelled themselves forward. And Luke . . . Luke had laid there wondering if he’d made the right decision.
The decision to leave his mother and his sister, the decision to leave everything he’d ever known behind. His friends had gone to college in anticipation of living four more years of debauchery and chaos. Luke had chosen a path that led nowhere but to a slice of hell. But he’d done it for his family, to give them hope, and in the end, the imagined weight of their expectations had kicked off a years-long bat
tle with anxiety.
That same anxiety tightened his throat now. Anna wanted too much, way more than he could ever give her. Way more than he honestly knew how to give. Luke needed to put a stop to it. When she glanced his way, he didn’t want to see the hope dancing in her blue eyes.
He opened his mouth, and then rubbed a hand over his chest when no words came out.
Worry pulled at her features. “What’s the matter? It’s just a text, Luke. I didn’t ask for your firstborn son.”
The anxiety spiked and Luke scrabbled for his sanity.
She tipped her chin up, a flirtatious smile widening her lush mouth. “I’d never dare take a firstborn O’Connor. Maybe the spare though, if you get one.”
“This isn’t going anywhere. You know that, right?” He winced at the harshness of his tone, not surprised in the least when she did the same.
Her smile fell slowly, as though unwinding itself from her face for his own personal punishment at seeing her joy wipe away. “I didn’t think it was anything more than a kiss,” she said, bringing a closed fist to her chest.
Stop talking, O’Connor. “It’s not—it wasn’t. It was barely that.”
“I dared you.”
And I liked it. Luke squashed the thought like a roach under his shoe. “I wouldn’t have done it if not for the dare. I’ve told you before, I’m not interested.”
Fire lit in her gaze, turning the blue into a vibrant azure that matched the Mediterranean Sea. “It certainly didn’t feel that way.” She pointedly looked at his crotch before glancing back up. “And don’t you dare say that you’d get a hard-on for any woman who rubbed herself up against you.”
Luke hadn’t had a hard-on for anyone but Blondie in months, if not almost a full year since the last time he’d seen a woman in something other than her clothes. Even his attempt the other night to rid her from his thoughts had ended with him alone in bed, watching reruns of Thick of the Woods just because it reminded him of her. Anna Bryce, the woman set on tearing down all of his walls. “It’s human biology,” he lied gruffly. “I’m sorry if you took it the wrong way.”
Her lips parted. “The wrong way? Is there any other way but the right way to take a man rubbing his erection against you?”
“Maybe. I don’t know.” He dragged his fingers through his hair, nearly yanking the strands out of his scalp. “All I’m trying to say is, Anna, there isn’t going to be any more between us than that one kiss.”
“Good.”
“Good?”
She untangled her fist from the car keys, jabbing one sharp point of a key at his chest like a weapon. “Good.”
“Can I ask why?” He obviously had his reasons, but what were hers? “You were one second away from tearing my shirt off.”
“Two seconds, tops.” She flicked her hand to the side, thankfully pulling back the key set before she accidentally shanked him in the jugular. “And I wouldn’t take it personally. I’d have done the same to anyone. That’s what happens when you’re sex-starved.”
His cock twitched. “Are you sex-starved?”
Her shoulder lifted in a delicate shrug. “Whether I am or not doesn’t pertain to you. You’re not interested, remember?”
Oh, he remembered, all right. He remembered the way she’d sighed his name and how her hand had slid down his back and onto his ass, tugging him closer. Luke stifled a groan. “I remember.”
He was just having a problem remembering the right things.
“Brilliant,” she said in awfully cheery voice, “you’re not interested in me. I’m not interested in you. Now that we’ve got that covered, I’m going to take myself home.” She paused with her hand on the top of the car door, a car door that he’d pinned her to just thirty minutes earlier. “And you’ll take a cab?”
The idea of taking a cab was suddenly no longer that appealing. Biting back words that he’d later regret, he somberly replied, “I’ll take a cab.”
She nodded once, a quick jerk of her chin, and then climbed into her car. The headlights flashed on and sliced through the evening mist as the engine hummed to life. Falling back a step, Luke watched as she made adjustments to the rearview mirror and the radio.
Was she stalling?
The organ where his heart was supposed to be broke its dormancy and kicked into a quick one-two, one-two. Maybe she’d decided to drive him anyway—just throw him into the car and later into her bed.
He pretended that the thought didn’t excite the hell out of him.
Anna’s driver-side window rolled down and Luke instinctively leaned forward, resting his free hand on the roof of the car. He waited just long enough for the window to edge down a few inches to ask, “You rethinking your—”
She cut him off: “Before I left, I just wanted to tell you something.”
“Yeah?”
In the shadows of her car, he watched her mouth quirk up in a wry grin. “Your kissing needs some work. I thought about it and I’ve realized what was wrong.”
“Yeah?” His voice sounded strangled.
She snaked her fingers through the window to pat his arm consolingly. “You use too much tongue, Luke. A girl likes a little finesse. Just thought you might want to know that before you find yourself interested in somebody.”
Too much tongue? Luke had never had any complaints in the sack. Ever. “Thanks for the input.” He was tempted to throw open the door and prove that his kisses revved her engines.
“Of course!” Her teeth flashed white in the shadows. “God, I feel so much better after getting that off my chest.”
He gritted his teeth. “I’m glad.”
“Great! Well, on that note, I’m going to head home. Maybe hit up a little online dating before I hit the sack. Make sure I change my bio to include ‘sloppy kissers, need not apply.’ Have a great night!”
Luke snatched his hand back as she inched up her window, and before he knew what the fuck had just happened, she’d sped away into the night, leaving him standing alone in the middle of New Orleans’ Carrollton neighborhood.
She’d left, and he’d gotten exactly what he wanted.
Only, as he watched her taillights fade off into the distance, he realized that he didn’t know what he wanted at all.
And wasn’t that the kicker.
Shitty kisser, I’ll be damned.
He and Anna Bryce weren’t over yet.
18
“You’re distracted.”
Luke ignored Robb Hampton’s pestering and stared hard at the elastic band. The red sports elastic was wrapped around the outside of his foot, so that he could work on tugging his bad leg into a fire hydrant position, against the band and away from his good leg. The first four reps hadn’t been so pretty and even now, on the fifth, Luke wasn’t quite steady.
Looked like his balance had taken a hike at the same time his military career had.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Luke muttered as he completed his sixth rep. Only eleven more to go until he was done with this round—if his hip didn’t seize up again.
“Usually you’re in here with a one-track mind. You hit the equipment like a crazed beast.” Robb’s sneakered feet entered Luke’s peripheral vision. “Today you’re moving slower than my eighty-five year old grandma with her walker.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment.”
“It wasn’t meant to be one.”
Luke gritted his teeth as he finished the tenth repetition. His body felt like it was on fire. After nearly a week of only seeing Anna’s son during Sassy’s a.m. and p.m. walking times, and not Anna herself, Luke felt that his brain wasn’t doing that much better. He’d strangely accustomed himself to seeing her, and now that he hadn’t seen her at all? Luke felt weird about it.
He completed his final rep and let the rubber band flutter to the floor as he cranked back and sat on his ass. “Thought you said PT was supposed to get better?”
His sister’s boyfriend barely spared him a glance as he rolled a large exercise ball
over toward Luke’s mat. “You’re out of the pool now,” Robb said, using the tip of his finger to send the blue ball Luke’s way. “I’d say that means you’re progressing.”
Maybe it was because he was in his own skin, but Luke hadn’t noticed any progression whatsoever. Hell, he’d collapsed only days ago. Dragging his sorry ass onto the ball, he positioned his hands on the floor in a push-up position and hiked the tops of his feet onto the exercise ball for inward curls. Just three months ago, these would have been easy. Now, they were the final round in his physical therapy circuit and wiped him out for the rest of the day. “When can I axe the cane?”
“How do you feel when you don’t use it?”
They both ignored the fact that Luke wasn’t always the best patient and left the cane behind more often than he should. He counted out the reps, concentrating on the pull of his abs and the stinging in his hip. Four. Exhale. Five. Exhale. Six. “Could be better,” he said on an exhalation.
Six. Exhale.
“Then you’re not ready yet. I’d give it another few weeks, then we can reevaluate from there.”
More weeks of not driving. More weeks of grappling for his cane like an old man anytime he thought he might pull a Leaning Tower of Pisa and topple right over. Except, unlike the Tower, which had stood for centuries, Luke barely managed to keep himself upright on a good day.
Eight. On the exhale, Luke said, “Amy invite you over for Thanksgiving later this week?”
Luke had done Thanksgiving with Brady for as long as he could remember. At least, he’d done Thanksgiving with his best friend’s family during the years he’d been stateside, which hadn’t happened in years.
“She mentioned it,” Robb said slowly. “I haven’t given her an answer yet.”
Eleven. Luke breathed in sharply through his nose, eyes narrowing on a speck on the mat. Almost there. Almost there. Thirteen. Exhale, inhale, exhale. The stinging in his hip strengthened to a gnawing bite, and Luke struggled to keep going. Fourteen. Exhale, exhale. Fuck the inhalation. He could do that later when he didn’t think his hip might combust in a flame of heat. Fifteen. Sixteen. “Are you keeping her on a string?”