by Zante, Lily
“No.”
“But we’ve come all this way and it’s your sis—”
“We’re not staying,” he ground out, touching his neck. She noticed he’d done that a few times today. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.”
“Don’t ruin this day for Amanda,” Maggie said.
“I’m not. She understands, I’m sure.”
“We can switch tables,” Maggie persisted. Kay stared at her, and at Luke’s brother who still remained silent. If Luke’s relationship with his father was weird, things were a whole lot stranger between the brothers.
“As if that’s going to help,” he said, his voice low, and cold. “Come on,” he said to Kay. His hand slipped from her waist to her hand again. He gripped it hard. “We’re leaving.”
“Now?”
He didn’t even bother to say goodbye as he tugged her hand and started to walk away. She quickly nodded her farewells and rushed to keep up with him.
“What are you doing?” she asked. “I thought we were going to stay for the reception.”
“Changed my mind.”
“Shouldn’t we at least say ‘bye’ to Amanda?”
“She’s busy.”
“This is rude, Luke.” They had walked away, leaving the sea of wedding guests behind them, and she turned around, to take one last look. “Let’s stay, at least for the first course.” She was sure he was making a mistake, and she didn’t want him to. Family was family. You were stuck with what you had, and you had to make it work, no matter what past disagreements there might have been. Blood was always thicker than water and she feared that in years to come, Luke would regret it.
“Amanda will never forgive you.”
“I’ll make it up at her next wedding.”
“That’s just cruel.”
“Mark my words.”
“You don’t need to voice something like that at her wedding,” Kay hissed, appalled by his insensitivity.
“She can’t hear me.”
Her mouth fell open. She knew he was jaded. Knew something in his past had shaped him, but this wasn’t healthy, this level of cynicism. She studied his expression for a long time, confused thoughts flying around in her head like circling bats. Before her stood a man battling some inner demons, and she couldn’t do a thing about it.
“Don’t make a mistake you’ll regret, Luke.”
He let go of her hand as if it was made of hot iron.
“You don’t have a fucking clue,” he snarled. “We’re not staying, and that’s final.”
Her heart jolted, him speaking to her like that. She’d rather have his coldness than his rage, and as ready as she was to argue back, even she could see that this wasn’t the time.
Something else was going on, something below the surface, something she wasn’t aware of. She wanted to reach out and comfort him, for it was obvious that he was hurting, that he was bitter about something, but Luke was hard to care for, hard to reach, hard to soothe.
She felt like superfluous baggage, not like his plus one.
Chapter 24
The entire journey back was steeped in stony silence.
She had so many questions, but he looked so miserable that she knew better than to get him riled up even more, especially with the crazy speed he was driving at.
Not once did he turn and look at her, or start a conversation. Maybe he was waiting for her to say something, but knowing his moods, she didn't want to rock that boat tonight.
So, she said nothing.
She had hoped that meeting his family would have given her the missing pieces of the puzzle, but instead, she had been left with even more questions. If it was any consolation it was knowing that Luke Hunter had a problem with most types of relationships. It wasn’t just with her.
“Did you mean for me to come back to your place?” she asked, as he parked up in the underground parking lot of an unfamiliar place. She wondered if he had been so deep in thought that he’d almost forgotten to drive back to her place.
“Yes.”
They took the elevator up, and he showed her into his apartment. Even though she was still in the dark about his family dynamics, seeing them had given her a better insight into the man who now stood before her; the man who stared at her with his cornflower blue eyes. He loosened his tie and flung it onto the couch. But if he wanted to have sex, she wasn’t in the mood for it right now.
She wanted answers first. He flung open the door to his bedroom, then strode in, taking off his jacket, and started to unbutton his shirt. Slipping off her shoes, she perched on the edge of the bed, purposely putting some distance between them as she watched him take off his cufflinks.
“You wore them,” she commented, pleased to see that he had, and to such an important occasion.
“They were on my dresser,” he replied, carelessly tossing them there. She nodded, understanding him a bit better now and realizing that his filthy mood made it impossible for him to just say ‘Yes’. It was easy for him to taint even the simplest of comments with a streak of nastiness.
“Why didn’t we stay?” she asked, refusing to be daunted.
“I didn’t want to.” He pulled down his pants.
“But it was your sister’s wedding, and we drove all that way. She would have wanted you to stay. Your brother and his wife even asked you to—”
“I don’t want to talk about it,” he growled.
“Maybe you should. Maybe you should let out whatever it is that’s bothering you.”
His eyes blazed as he stood there in his boxers, a silent tower of simmering emotions.
“You can’t keep running away from your issues, Luke.”
“Who says I’m running?”
“I am.” She threw him a conflicted look. Could he be so blind that he couldn’t see? He strode over to the closet and pulled out his sweatpants and t-shirt, then put them on. She stood up, determined to keep pushing and probing, deciding not to let him off so easily this time. “Explain it to me, then,” she said, softly, walking towards him. “So that I can understand the crazy set up in your family and you can—”
“Take off your dress,” he said, interrupting.
“No,” she replied, standing her ground. No sex until she had answers. “Is this why you drove home early?”
She placed a hand on his bare chest, just as he slipped his head through his t-shirt. When he rolled it down, her hand was caught between his skin and the fabric. She stroked the ridges of his abs softly. “Tell me,” she murmured. You’re all worked up about it. Get it out of your system, and then we can have sex.”
If it would make him feel better, she’d let him, because instead of his usual stony countenance, he seemed restless tonight. Irritated and weak, half the man she was used to being with.
He sat on the edge of the bed, and she did, too, taking one of his big, strong hands in hers. He let her, even though this was too intimate a move for them, this subtle indication of caring.
“You took me to the wedding, you made me meet your family, and then you dragged me away. Don’t I deserve some answers? I’m not asking you for commitment, Luke, only answers.”
Lines formed on his forehead, wrinkling his otherwise smooth face, and she felt sure that at any moment now he would tell her to go to hell.
“My father…” he ground out slowly. “...He moved his mistress into our house while he was still married to my mother.”
“His mistress?” She blinked, processing the news in shock.
“We didn’t know she was his mistress at first. He said she’d just joined the company. He said she was a new employee in one of his companies, and that she didn’t have a place to stay, and he was putting her up for a while until she found somewhere. But she started hanging out with him. Going for a swim in our pool with him, sitting in the hot tub. Pretty soon, he moved her into the bedroom. The one he shared with my mom.”
She stifled a gasp. “What did your mom do?”
“She moved out.”
“Did you know what was happening at the time?”
He shrugged. “Not at first. Not until mom moved into the spare bedroom.”
“How old were you?”
“Fifteen.”
“And your brother and sister?”
“Travis is a few years older, and Amanda must have been eleven. I don’t think she knew what was going on.”
“And your mom?”
“She still lived there.”
“How old was the mistress?”
“Young. Very young. Straight out of college almost.”
Kay recoiled in disgust. The age gap was as disgusting as the cruelty inflicted on Luke’s mother by his father. She stared at him, clutching his hand harder, watching his face twist and harden. ““But didn’t your mom object, or give him an ultimatum?”
“What could she say? She had no voice in that house. He was the big boss. The big man. The fucking oil billionaire. He was a tyrant, and he was a pig to her. It was obvious what was going on. His mistress had no shame.”
“And nobody said anything?”
“Nobody could say anything. He was the patriarch and we couldn’t question what he did.”
“Why didn’t your mom leave?”
“Because she believed he would change. Who knows? I’ll never know why she didn’t. She couldn’t say a thing. She still loved the bastard.”
“That must have been so awful for your mom.”
“It killed her.” He pulled his hand away and clasped his hands together.
Her insides filled with dread. “What do you mean?”
“She ended her life.”
Kay clasped a hand to her mouth. “What?”
He turned and stared at her with darkened eyes; eyes which often undressed her just by looking, without him even touching her. Now he looked lost, and unreachable, and she couldn't help but put her arm around his big, broad shoulders.
“Oh, Luke,” she cried, leaning into his body. He looked so defeated, and so broken. “How…how …” She couldn’t bring herself to ask.
“She lay down on their bed—the bed she had once shared with my father—and slit her wrists.”
“What?” She gasped, pulling away, horrified. “She killed herself?”
He stared at the floor, and gave the slightest nod. “I was the one who found her.”
The room spun around her as the shock of his confession hit. She couldn't imagine it, a teenage boy walking in on that. And now, as he opened up to her in a way he had never before, she felt suddenly protective over him, as if she couldn't bear for him to be hurt again in the re-telling of something that clearly still haunted him. A person never recovered from something like that.
Never.
He was living proof of that.
She had gained an insight into his pain, and an understanding she simply had never had before.
No wonder he hated his father so much. No wonder his relationship with Travis seemed so fractured. An event like this must have smashed through the entire family like a deadly hurricane, uprooting all their young lives and their world, and changing it forever.
“Take off your dress,” he ordered, issuing the command roughly. She had more questions, and needed more answers. She wanted him to talk it out, to let it all go because she could see he’d had it locked up inside him. But that could come later. Sex was his go-to, and if it helped him through his dark moments, who was she to withhold it?
She wanted to obey, to give him what he wanted, but on her terms. She stood up then pulled her dress up and over her head, tossing it to the floor. He sat up, his hungry gaze roaming all over her body. Instead of removing her undergarments, she knelt on the floor, inching forward until she was between his legs. Placing her hands on his thighs, she leaned towards him, boldly, brushing her lips against his, seeking, judging, feeling tentatively, before pushing her tongue into his mouth and gently exploring.
She was blatantly disobeying him, and taking charge, doing what she wanted, for a change. And he was letting her.
Her hand trailed along his inner thighs. Reaching between his legs she placed her hand on the fabric of his sweatpants, making him gasp out as she stroked the length of his hardness. This was a rarity for her, she who had always let him take her however and whenever he wanted, now she was doing things her way.
“Lie back,” she ordered, freeing him from his sweatpants and boxers, pulling them down, hearing another loud sigh escape from his mouth. But it wasn’t a ‘no’. He didn’t stop her.
She wanted to make him forget the pain of his past, and this was the only way she knew how. Curling her fingers around him, she stroked him slowly, while sliding her other hand over his inner thigh.
He didn't stop her—most men wouldn't have—but with Luke she could never tell. He liked to be in charge, and he never freely gave her power in bed. This time he was letting her have her way. She pumped him slowly at first, and moved her thumb over his silky tip. He jerked, and she stole a look at his face, eager to see his reaction. A sigh, more like a sound of deep appreciation, escaped his lips and his contorted expression, his closed eyes and relaxed face, told her he was deep in the throes of his ecstasy. She licked her lips before gliding his length into her mouth slowly, and was rewarded with a curse and her name falling from his lips.
She started slow, then picked up in the pace, moving faster and faster, her own arousal building from the sounds of his appreciative groans. His hand raked over her head, yanking a handful of hair, but she lost herself in the moment, wanting to pleasure him to the end, knowing that he needed it.
The speed and ferocity of his release, when it came, consumed them both. She wiped her mouth as he let out a sigh, his chest rising and falling, as if he'd run a mile.
“Sorry,” he said, breathless. “I didn't mean to—”
She scooted onto the bed and kissed his chest. “I wanted to,” she said, easily, the happiness inside her rising like a soufflé, knowing that something she had done had made him feel better. He opened his arm, and she slid in, nestling her head against his chest. All those other times they’d met for sex, this was what he had denied her, and she had hungered for it.
She lay alongside him, still in her bra and panties, while he was fully clothed. The mask he often wore guarded his inner feelings, but she had seen it stripped bare this evening. Holding her, his defenses seemed to have crumbled, and the weight somewhat lifted. Now he looked relaxed, and it made her happy to know she had done that for him.
They lay like that for the longest time, and her cocooned in his arms, him holding her close as if he needed her.
She hugged him without thinking.
“What?” he asked, kissing the top of her head.
“Nothing,” she replied, kissing his chest. She was happy, that’s what, and as much as she wanted to tell him that, something made her hold back. If his mask had slipped, it would only be a matter of time before he put it on again, and she didn’t want to risk messing things up. She didn’t want to presume too much, and as much as she wanted to lie here all night, she couldn’t.
She soon had her answer when the sound of soft snoring told her he wouldn’t be able to rise to the occasion again; therefore the only alternative was for her to go home, even though she was loathe to leave him.
Silently, she moved off the bed.
“What are you doing?” he asked, opening his eyes. He lifted his head up as she slipped her dress over her head. “Getting ready,” she replied, trying to do up the zipper at the back.
“For what?”
“To go home,” she replied, puzzled.
“You don’t have to.”
“But…” She didn't know what to say, because that had been the arrangement. He’d told her from the start. “You always want me to go.”
He got out of bed and walked towards her. She didn’t dare to breathe. He was so changeable, she never knew where she stood with him.
“Stay with me tonight.”
“You want me to stay?” she
asked, making sure even as her heart seemed to miss a beat. Maybe it was starting to happen—that this was turning into more than just sex. She was beginning to matter, and he was beginning to care. She pulled the zipper up slowly then switched her arms to pull the rest of it up with her other hand, but he came up behind her and stopped her.
“Yes,” he said, standing so close behind her that she could feel his breath against her neck. “Stay, not because I’m asking you to, but because you want to.”
Her mind fought to make sense of it all. Too much had happened today. He wanted her to stay. Things could change. Things were changing. He cared about her, and she now understood more about him.
“I want to fuck you.”
And with those words, her hopes and happiness plummeted.
Her head fell to her chest as she closed her eyes at the blow. Who had she been kidding? “I should—I should go,” she said, scrambling to pull herself together, forcing her voice to sound louder and steadier than she felt.
Why couldn’t he ask her to stay because he wanted her to stay, because he wanted to be with her? Why did he always make it be about the other thing? She longed for the romance, for softness, and seduction, not for being treated like a whore.
“Why?” she asked, giving him another chance to redeem himself.
“Why, what?” he asked, grazing her neck with his lips. He slowly pulled the zipper all the way down again. “Why do I want to fuck you?”
“Why do you want me to stay?” She willed him for another answer, willed him not to see her as Good-Time-Kay for she no longer wanted to be that woman.
Today, he’d shown her his wounds, and she’d started to believe she could heal him and help him to change. She could do all these things, because he was slowly starting to change. His request just now was a remnant of his usual self. In time, he would come to see that he needed her for more than sex.
“It’s cold outside, and it’s warm in my bed.” He nuzzled her ear some more, and pressed his body against hers, and this time she felt his hardness against her back.