by K. L. Kreig
“You talking to them now?”
“Yeah.”
“Glad to hear it.” I know Eric means it. He’s a genuine family man. Despite the fact his background is similar to mine, he never cut ties with his like I did. But we’ve both pulled our shit together and are in far better places than just a few years ago.
“Say, I’m gonna be in town in a couple weeks for Easter. I’d like you to draw up some new ink for me so I can take a look at it. Then we can schedule some time to get it done.”
Eric is an incredible artist and co-owner of a highly successful tattoo shop in Detroit called Inked On. He’s created and inked all my tats except for the dove and hourglass I have on my right forearm. I got that done when I was living in hell on earth in Boston, so I’d have a constant reminder of why the fuck I voluntarily stayed.
In Egyptian times, the dove was a symbol of innocence. That represented Livia. The hourglass reminded me to have patience in my task to free her and do it right so neither of us would end up dead in the process.
I spend the next few minutes describing what I want in detail. “You think you can do it?”
He laughs darkly. “Who the fuck you think you’re talking to, LC? I make gold out of shit.”
“I’ll start saving up, then. Do you make them into bars, too?”
“Fuck you.”
“Hard pass.”
I hear Addy stick her key in the lock and try to turn it. She shakes the handle, rattling the door when it won’t budge.
“Say, gotta run. I’ll hook up with you Easter weekend.”
“Looking forward to it.”
I rise from the couch and jog across the room. When I swing the door open she looks startled.
“Oh, sorry. My key wouldn’t work for some reason,” she says, sliding past me. I don’t budge an inch, forcing her body to brush against mine. I almost sigh in blessed relief.
Don’t say it. I’m pathetic. I’m pussy whipped. She already has my manhood securely harnessed in a cock cage. All true.
Ask me if I care.
“I changed the locks today. New keys are on the counter for you.”
She turns toward me after setting her purse down along with her jacket. “Why?”
Today she’s wearing a greyish-green short-sleeve shirt that says Rain Rain Go Away, along with painted on tan skinny jeans and bright green chucks. Her dark hair is in loose waves around her barely made-up face. She looks fucking amazing.
“Why what?” I ask, walking back to the couch, discreetly adjusting my hard-on. I sink down in the corner, spreading my legs wide, throwing my arm over the back. I watch her eyes lazily travel down my seated form and fuck I want to give in to the cocky smile begging to be set free, but I don’t dare or I’ll stoke her ever-present smoldering embers into a raging fire. And right now, I’d just as soon have a nice conversation than an all-out battle of wills.
“Why did you change the locks?” She leans that fine ass against one of the island stools. I wish she were sitting by me instead. Okay, on me.
“A blind five-year-old could pick the ones you had. They were unsafe.”
She regards me for a few seconds, a small smile on her lips. “Lucky for me there are no blind five-year-olds who live in this building then, I guess.”
“I guess.” I can’t help but return her infectious smile. Holy Mother Mary, she’s magnificent. Down boy. Down.
“Don’t you have a gun?”
Her question surprises me. I do have a gun, my trusty SIG Pro 2022. After the life I’ve led, I’m very comfortable using one, although I can say I’ve never killed anyone with it (come on, you know you were wondering). I’d rather never see one again. Unfortunately, sometimes my job is dangerous, particularly the bounty hunting part, so I’m forced to have it. I only carry it when necessary, though. I also know for damn sure I’ve never left it lying around the apartment.
“Snooping, are we?”
She looks a little sheepish. “No. I just…I saw it on your dresser one day when I walked by your room.”
I have nothing to hide from her. Hell, I want her to know everything she’s getting into with me. That’s why I always keep my door open, unlike Addy, who has her private space locked down so tight you’d think it contained codes to the country’s nuclear warheads. Not that it’s kept me out. That’s one fucking lock I am not replacing.
“Does that make you uncomfortable?” Christ, I hope not. I’ll never stand a chance with her.
“No. I—not at all. I feel safer, actually,” she mutters, looking down.
“Really?” I hear the hope in my voice. I’m sure she doesn’t miss it either.
Her eyes lift to mine. “Really,” she replies softly.
The air becomes thick, pulsing with desire. Somehow I don’t think she’s talking about the firearm anymore.
I took Addy dinner on Wednesday. Today is Friday. While things haven’t been as tense as they were and we’ve even come to some sort of weird truce, she’s far from letting her guard down completely. Despite what my mom thinks, I’m working my ass off to obliterate it to dust so she’ll let me in.
It’s now been almost two fucking weeks since my cock has been denied entry into his rightful home and he’s getting antsy. I can’t tell you how badly I want to pounce on her, pinning her to the counter so I can fuck her into conceding to this insane attraction that’s arching hot between us.
But as much as I want her to be, she’s not ready and the next time I have her, there will be no fucking dancing around what we’re doing. I won’t give her up and I sure as hell won’t let her walk away from me again. I realize I sound very caveman. Trust me, I feel like it too.
So instead, I clear my throat and ask, “Did you eat?”
“A protein bar.”
My eyes flick to the round clock on the kitchen wall that looks like a sunflower. It’s hideous, but that’s beside the point. It’s almost ten p.m. and she’s just arriving home from work. I’ve already noticed Addy doesn’t take very good care of herself. She doesn’t eat well, she doesn’t exercise—not that she needs it, mind you—and it hasn’t escaped my notice she usually doesn’t sleep through the night either. I hear her padding around on the wood floor frequently.
I stand and walk past her to the fridge, pulling out the leftover chicken fettuccine Alfredo I made earlier. Funny…I haven’t really wanted to cook once in the past couple of years, yet after registering her emotional reaction when I brought her something as simple as soup on Wednesday night, I find myself wanting to cook for her again. For my entire life, even.
I dish some on a plate and stick it in the microwave, setting the timer for a minute thirty seconds.
“What’s that?”
“Your dinner.”
“I already had dinner.”
“A protein bar does not constitute dinner, fireball.” I can’t help but notice she’s not yelled at me about my pet name for her since the night of dinner at Gray’s. I have to suppress a smile.
“I can’t eat something that rich this late. I’ll get fat,” she protests.
I take a few steps until I’m standing in front of her. “First, you’re fucking perfect and a few bites of pasta won’t change that. Second, you don’t eat well and I intend to fix that. Maybe if you ate better, you’d sleep better.”
She looks surprised at my observation, although I don’t know why she should be. I told her I would fight for her. How does she think I’m not going to pay attention to everything she does? Some days I feel like a goddamned stalker I’m so attuned to her.
The room grows silent except for the humming of the microwave warming her food.
“You did this with Livia.”
She doesn’t have to elaborate on what she means. I nod, remembering when I tried to get Livia to eat chicken noodle soup, which she promptly threw up because she was pregnant even though I didn’t know it yet. It took me all of twenty-four hours after she came home from the hospital to figure that out. “Yes.”
I do
n’t know what I expect her to say, but it’s not what she does. “Because you care about her.”
Fuck it. It’s time to address the pink polka-dotted elephant that’s sucking the life, along with my chances, right out of the room. “This doesn’t have anything to do with Livia, Addy. It has to do with my concern about your well-being. Since you brought her up, though, ask me what you really want to know.”
The ding sounds indicating her food is hot. Neither of us moves for so long I don’t think she’s going to say another word…but she does.
“Do you love her?”
She doesn’t fuck around. I love that about her. I love everything about her. I’m pretty fucking sure I’m in love with all of her, pigheadedness included.
“Livia and I share a unique history, Addy. It’s complicated.”
She doesn’t blink. “You didn’t answer the question.”
“Who hurt you, fireball?”
“Who didn’t?” she retorts flatly. My soul aches for her. For us. I don’t want to be lumped into the category with every other man who’s come before me, even though I should probably lead the pack. God knows I have no idea what the hell I’m doing. Pure instinct is driving me here.
“Do you love her?” she asks again.
I frame her beautiful, petite face with my mammoth hands. “You’re like a dog with a bone.”
“Says the Rottweiler.”
I smile briefly. She’s got my number. “I’m not in love with my brother’s wife if that’s what you’re asking,” I tell her adamantly. Not anymore.
“But you were.”
Yes, I was in love with Livia. But I now understand that loving her brought me to the woman I’m supposed to spend my life with, so I will not regret it and I sure as fuck will not apologize for it. Sighing loudly, I say, “Addy, we all have a past. Don’t hold mine against me. Please.”
Her face falls and her eyes drop.
“Addy, look at me,” I coax softly. “Please, baby.” Watery eyes meet mine, and it couldn’t hurt worse than if I’d been shot. And that hurts like a motherfucker, let me tell you. “I care about Livia. I always will. We went through something horrific together, something I know you think you want to know about. Trust me, you don’t. And to protect everyone, including you, that’s all I can say. But I meant every damn word I said in the bathroom. You’ve had me wound up with that clever tongue of yours for months. You are the only woman who has my heart. You are the only woman I want, Addy Monroe. There’s no room inside me for anyone else but you. Just you.”
I lean down slowly, giving her a chance to protest. She doesn’t. I hear the quickening of her breath, matching mine. “You’re my color, fireball,” I whisper against her mouth before I take it in a soft, slow kiss. My God, it’s like nirvana to have my mouth on hers again. She’s hesitant at first, but only momentarily before relaxing easily into me. My cock leaps, thinking he’s getting in on the action. Fuck…he’s not. Not tonight.
I keep my caresses intentionally light, tenderly worshipping her. I gently clamp her plump bottom lip between my teeth and suck. I live in her quiet moans I know she doesn’t want me to hear. The heat of the palms she’s now resting against my waist easily penetrates my thin tee, scorching me.
After a minute, I force my mouth from hers. I need her to burn white hot for me like I do for her. She’s getting close, but she’s not quite there yet.
“I’m not giving up until you acknowledge you’re mine,” I husk, pecking her mouth one more time.
“I’m not some prize for winning first place, Luke.”
I pull back and stare deeply into her eyes. She looks scared and confused. I choose my words carefully, sensing she’s balancing precariously on a wire and one stiff breeze will push her over. If I’m not careful, she’ll be lost to me forever. “You couldn’t be more wrong, Addy. You? Your love? They’re the ultimate prize no man walking this earth deserves, especially me. But I want it all anyway and I’ll work every single day to earn it.”
Her misty eyes, which look greener today, bounce back and forth between mine, seeking something. She must find it. I don’t realize I’m holding my breath until I see the corner of her mouth turn and her mossy pools glimmer with…sheer happiness.
“Are you always so direct?”
“I see no reason to dance.” I scoop up her hair and push it over her shoulders so it’s cascading down her back like a waterfall. What I wouldn’t give to grab a handful, directing her every move as she sucks my aching cock.
Her smile spreads. I have a feeling she knows exactly where my mind has gone. “So you don’t like to dance then?”
She’s not talking about the waltz here, which, for the record I used to know how to do once upon a time. My mom made all us boys take dance lessons when we were younger. She wanted “well-rounded” young men. You can imagine how that went over with a bunch of eleven- and twelve-year-olds. Our dance teacher pretty much banned us from returning after the first season—something about scaring the girls, blah, blah, blah.
Ah…good times.
“Not when my entire future is on the line, no.”
“Luke…” she mumbles softly. She shakes her head and I can tell she doesn’t know what to make of me right now. Hell, I don’t know what to make of me either.
The semi I constantly sport these days starts to stiffen with the husky way she said my name and the doe eyes she’s giving me right now. If I wanted to press the issue, no doubt I could have her underneath me in fifteen seconds flat. So instead, I take a step back.
“Is the air clear now?” I ask roughly.
She nods.
“Good. Now, how about that dinner?”
“Okay.” She adds her qualifier quickly, making me chuckle. “But only because I’m hungry. Not because you’re making me.”
“Of course not. I’m pretty sure the only place I could make you do anything is in the bedroom. Only you’ll try to fight me there, too, because you don’t know how much pleasure I can bring you when you let me be in charge. Don’t worry, though…I can already see you’re a fast learner, fireball. You’ll catch on pretty quick.” I wink and her cheeks flush.
Did I tell you how much I really love the color pink?
I reheat the pasta for a few seconds and set it down in front of her, observing as she enthusiastically digs in. I’ve never enjoyed watching someone eat before, so what does that say about me? I’m a fucking goner for this woman, that’s what.
“This is fantastic, Luke. Homemade?”
I nod. “Thanks.”
The shy smile she gifts me tugs profoundly on my heart strings. I’ve known my feelings for Addy have been escalating at the speed of sound and I daresay before today I thought I was in love with her. Right now, the feelings of contentment and rightness and peace that race swiftly through my blood leave not one shred of doubt: I am unequivocally in love with Addy Monroe.
My color.
My fire.
My pin.
My future.
When I’m with her, things just make sense and I don’t feel quite so soiled. Is it possible Addy could actually cleanse my soul? It feels a little less black each time I’m with her, so maybe. I just have to be sure that blackness doesn’t rub off on her. If it does, although it would hurt like a mother, I’d let her go.
“You have plans tomorrow night?” I ask, knowing it’s time to up my game to the next level. She’s ready.
“No,” she responds around a mouthful of creamy goodness.
“Good. Don’t make any.”
She hesitates. “Okay.”
We stare at each other for a few seconds—not in challenge, unlike most of our interactions lately. This time, it’s something entirely different. It’s finally acknowledgment of what’s been completely out of either of our controls since our eyes first connected months ago.
I think I have some new prayers to add to my list this week. For once, I’m going to be selfish and ask God for something other than absolution, because let’s face it,
sometimes that’s the most selfish thing us sinners can ask for when we’ve committed an unforgivable wrong. Which I have.
This week I’ll pray that if there’s a speck of anything deep inside me that even remotely deserves a woman like Addy, it will shine through the darkness so she can see its glimmer.
This week and every week from here on out, I’ll selfishly ask for her.
Yep. Complete and total goner.
Chapter 23
“Hmm, I wonder what could have caused that giddy, goofy schoolgirl look on your face?” Alyse jibes, a shit-eating grin on her own.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about, Alyse.” I turn my attention back to the double stroller Livia has on her registry. Seven hundred dollars for a buggy with four wheels and two seats? Good grief. The baby market is a damn racket.
“Oh, I think you do,” Kam pipes up with a smile that matches Alyse’s. “How’s that new hunky roommate?”
Wow. That’s a fully loaded question. How much time do you have?
“I wouldn’t know. I don’t see much of him. Our schedules don’t really mesh.” I intentionally keep my gaze down so my friends can’t see right through the lies I’m trying to feed them. I’m utterly transparent when it comes to lying. Like tissue paper. Or Saran Wrap.
“Mmm hmm.” Alyse doesn’t believe me, but I don’t care. “Say, Asher has a business dinner tonight so I was thinking that maybe we could make a girls’ night out. It’s been a while since I could join.”
Ruh-roh. “Uh…sorry, I can’t. I have plans.”
Wow, have you ever really noticed how tiny newborn socks are? I mean, they’re like two inches long. And how long can they really wear them before they outgrow them? One or two times? So this little two-pack of Ralph Lauren socks for twelve dollars means it will cost like two bucks per wear. That’s insanely stupid. They’re socks.
I realize it’s silent and look up to see Alyse and Kam exchange knowing glances. “Well change them,” Kam insists. “Or do you have a hot date?”
Why yes. Yes, I do. I think. He didn’t say so, but this feels very much like a date. A scorching one.
I put on my best Judas face, intent on not giving away the fact I’m going to be spending the evening tonight with my sinfully sexy roommate. “If you mean with a bunch of paperwork so I can get ready for my tax appointment on Monday, then yes, it will be downright steamy.”