That thought was quickly shot down when Luke bursts into my room not much later.
“What the fuck were you thinking?” He demands.
I don’t know how to respond. I can feel my stomach turn, my body grow cold. There was a fierceness in his eyes, rage running through him like a wildfire, and I was the target.
“Jesus, Leah,” He sighs, his eyes softening. He sits down on my bed and stares at me. “You scared the shit out of me.” He runs his right hand through his hair. I should probably say something, but I can’t. I’m frozen in place.
“I come home to find that not only were you gone, but there was blood all over the countertop.” He stares at me with his pale blue eyes, and I can sense a sort of sadness in them, or is it disappointment? “I mean, what the fuck?”
I had never seen this side of him, caring and concerned. I never knew it could exist in him. He was always tough, stoic even, and there wasn’t a time that I could remember where he showed even an ounce of emotion. Not once. It was throwing me off, but I found myself even more attracted to him because of it.
I walk over to him slowly, sit down next to him. I want to tell him the truth, but was afraid he’d be disgusted with me, think I was some freak for wanting to cut myself. So I do what anyone else in my position would do. I lie.
“I’m sorry,” I tell him. “I was making lunch and cut myself. Gretchen dropped in shortly after that and I got distracted; I forgot to clean up the blood. Then we left to go shopping.” He’s staring blankly at the wall in front of him.
I feel self-conscious, ashamed of myself for lying; I was never good at it.
But then I remember. I remember why I shouldn’t be the one feeling embarrassed, why I shouldn’t be defensive. What did it matter if I forgot to clean up the blood or left without writing a note? He was the one who dropped in out of nowhere and expected me to drop everything for him, follow him without question. He dropped the fucking bombshell that is my father’s journal without so much as an explanation.
If anyone should be angry, it should be me.
“So when were you going to tell me you booked me a ticket to New York with you? Weeks ago I might add. How the hell did you know I’d even come with you? And would you care to explain what the hell I read in my dad’s journal?”
“You seem angry.” He turns his head and smiles at me. That cocky, shit-eating grin. That’s the Luke I’m used to, condescending, uncaring—a fucking asshole.
I want to scream. It was always so infuriating dealing with him. I can feel myself flush.
“Fucking. Asshole.” The words come from somewhere deep. I almost don’t even recognize my own voice.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa. Take it easy.” He says, placing a hand on my shoulder which I immediately shrug off; the weight and feel of his hand linger on my shoulder and my skin tingles. Even though I can’t stand him right now, I still want him to touch me, feel his hands all over my body. It’s sick; it’s twisted; I know. I can’t help it.
His face tells me he’s amused. He enjoys toying with me, seeing me get frustrated, working me up into a frenzy.
“If I don’t get answers, I’m going to walk out that door,” I say more calmly.
“And go where, exactly?” He says as he raises his eyebrows. His scent is beginning to overwhelm me, making my thoughts muddled and my heart race. He knew my words were hollow; I had nowhere to go and even if I did, I wouldn’t act.
But I knew what would rile him up. Two could play this game.
“I’ll take Miles up on his offer.” His body tenses up at the sound of his name.
“No. You won’t.” Luke growls. It catches me off guard—his voice. It’s rough and fierce and makes my hair stand on end. I almost regret saying it. “You’re going to stay here with me.”
“Well, aren’t you demanding.”
“And you’re sexy when you’re mad.” Electricity surges through me; I feel light-headed. I brace myself on the bed so I don’t fall backward. No one had called me sexy before, and I had never thought of myself as sexy. Not in the slightest. This coming from Luke—it had to be another game, some misdirection to throw me off. He couldn’t mean it. Could he?
I search his eyes, study his face; I’m trying to figure out if this is some game or not.
“It’s true.” He says as though he can read my mind. “You’re sexy when you’re not mad too.” His eyes rake over me. My skin burns under his gaze.
This can’t be real. This can’t be happening. This was never supposed to happen.
“Did Gretchen pick out this outfit?” I was wearing a white V-neck dress that was almost as revealing as my uniform. It’s the first dress that fits me well, accentuates my curves. And, to be honest, I did feel sexy in it. There’s a first time for everything.
I can feel myself flush as Luke shifts closer to me. I can feel his breath on me cheek. I pull at the hem of the dress, try to readjust to show less leg.
Luke grabs my wrist hard. “What are you doing?” I recognize the look in his eyes: Lust. He wants me. It’s the same look he had last night. My skin burns under his grip and my heart beats out of my chest.
“I was just—“ I don’t have the chance to finish. I let out a gasp as he slides his hand along me thigh, pushes my dress up, revealing a milky white thigh. If he goes any further, he may be able to see some of my scars. I want him to. I want to reveal myself completely to him.
“That’s better.” His sultry voice wraps around me like velvet.
He places his hand on mine while the other traces shapes across my thigh. “What are you doing to me, Leah?”
I don’t know how to respond.
“What… What do you mean?”
He looks at me, lust flooding through his pale blue eyes, then snatches my wrists before I have the chance to react and forcefully pins me against the bed. I struggle, but only a little—it’s turning me on far more than it should, more than I’m letting on.
“You make me want to do things.” He rasps as he straddles me. “Things I shouldn’t do.” The light smell of his cologne mixes with his natural scent and creates a heady musk that I can’t get enough of; it envelopes me completely and I can feel my inhibitions melt away.
I writhe under him as his fingers trace a line along my cheek, down my neck and across my chest. His right hand pins my wrists above my head. My body is on fire at the thought of what he’ll do next, all the things he could next.
He leans in close, his lips nearing the bare skin of my neck but not touching it; a flip of his hair tickles my cheek. My skin tingles and burns and aches for the sweet touch of his lips.
“What… what are you doing?” I ask.
“Finishing what I started last night.” He tells me, his breath tickling my neck.
“We can’t, Luke. It’s wrong.” I say, my words betraying my true feelings. I want him. I have for as long as I can remember. If this was wrong, why did it feel so right? I don’t care about what happened in the past; all I care about is what was happening now, between us.
“I’ll decide what’s wrong.” He snarls.
Desire and lust and every fantasy I’ve had about Luke floods through me, but fear rises to the surface from somewhere deep inside me. I fear that he’ll leave again, that I’ll give him what he wants and he’ll cast me aside like every other girl. I don’t want that to happen. I don’t want to be like every other girl. I won’t be like every other girl.
“No,” I say, more forcefully this time. “No, we can’t do this.” I try to break free from his grasp, but he’s too strong.
But then he relents. “Fine.” He says coldly, his voice devoid of any emotion. He pulls away, lets go of my wrists. “If you want to stop we can stop.” My heart sinks into my stomach. I feel sick and I instantly regret everything I just said. He keeps looking at me, scanning my face for something.
“Do you want to stop?” He asks.
I don’t, but I’m at a crossroads. My mind tells me to follow the path to the right: end it now before
you get hurt. But my heart and everything else tells me to follow the left path: give in—it’s what you’ve always wanted.
I don’t want him to leave, so I say nothing, hoping he will do what I don’t want to vocalize. Fuck me. I lay there, looking up at his handsome face as his eyes rake across my body. I feel naked under his gaze.
He grins—a devilish and cocky grin, a knowing grin. He knows what I want. And he knows I’m afraid to say it.
He leans in again, his hands sliding along my bare arms, forcing them back over my head. His lips are centimeters away from mine. I can almost taste them. I want to taste him. I bit down hard on my lower lip as I writhe under the weight of his body. I can feel his hard cock under his clothes, pushing against me.
“I didn’t think so.” He rasps.
I gasp as his lips touch my skin just below my ear. Goosebumps erupt along my neck, along my arms and legs. It was only a kiss, but my body was on fire, aching for more. He kisses my jaw, continues lower along my neck, his stubble scratching my sensitive skin.
He tears at the straps on my shoulder, revealing my bare breasts.
“Fucking hell, Leah.” He growls. “You’re gorgeous. Fucking sexy.” Gorgeous. Sexy. Those were words used to describe other women—not me. But he meant it. I could see it in his eyes, hear it in his voice.
“You’re mine.” He tells me. “Say it.”
“I’m yours,” I whisper.
“Louder!” He snarls.
“I’m yours,” I repeat, but with more conviction.
He’s laid his claim, stuck a flag in me. I’m his. And I like that. I like the idea of being his, something to be claimed. My core floods with desire. I want to feel him inside me. I want him to fuck me and fuck me properly, finish what he started.
“That’s it.” He says. “And you’ll do as I say.”
“Yes. I will.” I moan, grinding myself against him. “Fuck me, Luke. Just fuck me.” I beg. I can feel myself getting more and more wet. I’ve worked myself into a frenzy and I need release.
“Is that what you want? You want me to fuck that tight little pussy of yours?”
“Yes, Luke. Please. Please fuck me.”
“Strip.” He demands, pulling away from me, allowing me to move more freely.
I take off my dress; I’m only wearing panties. But not for long.
“God damn, Leah. Your body is amazing.” He runs his hands along my bare skin, along my thighs. His thumbs graze my pussy as he rubs me, forcing me to moan softly. He rips my panties to the side—my wet center exposed—and slides a finger inside.
“Oh fuck, Luke.” I gasp.
“You’re so wet, Leah.”
I grind against him as his fingers slide in and out, in and out of my wet hole, repeatedly, and with no end in sight. I’m nearing climax, my orgasm welling deep inside me—I’m moments away.
“Like that…” I moan. “Just like that. I’m about to—”
But then he stops. He pulls his fingers out of me and stands up.
“Wha.. What?” I mutter.
“Go to bed.” He says, coldly. “Don’t ever leave again without telling me.
“Fuck you!” I scream at him, but it’s no use, he’s already shut the door behind him.
What the fuck was his problem? What exactly was his deal? How could he just switch everything off like that?
You should’ve seen it coming, the more logical part of me tells me. He’s always been like this. He likes to control people. He gets off on it.
I slam my fists against the bed. How could I be so stupid? Luke never wanted me. He was toying with me the entire time. I fall back against my pillows; Crouton hops on my bed, cuddling next to me. “You’re the only one I can trust, Crouton,” I whisper, stroking his soft fur as her purrs. “I can’t even trust myself.”
I toss and turn in bed for a while, frustrated, but eventually fall asleep.
CHAPTER TEN
LEAH
IN MY DREAM, I see Judith. I’m laying in bed and she’s sitting next to me, dabbing my forehead with a washcloth. “I hate seeing my baby sick.” She tells me in a soothing voice. There’s an ethereal glow around her, and something about her demeanor unsettles me.
I try to speak; I open my mouth, but nothing comes out. My voice is gone. My throat is tight. I can’t even move. Fear floods through me.
She’s wearing a white nightgown. Wisps of her light brown hair fall over he pallid skin. Her thin lips are closed tight in a ghost of a smile—or is it sneer?
“Here.” She says. “Drink this.” She takes a mug from the nightstand, swirls the liquid with a spoon, metal clinking against ceramic, and offers it to me. I close my lips tightly, shake my head, like a child refusing to eat mushed food. “Now, Leah. No one likes a brat. Obey your mother.” She tries to force my mouth open with the spoon, but still I resist.
“Just a sip.” She coos. “I promise you’ll feel much better.”
My mouth opens wide on its own accord. I can’t close it. “That’s it.” She places the spoon on the nightstand and turns back to me. “That’s a good girl.” She pours the liquid into my mouth, tipping the mug so a steady stream of disgusting and bitter liquid begins to fill my mouth. It becomes thick and syrupy and impossible to swallow.
I can’t breathe. I’m choking and coughing and crying and my body is convulsing wildly.
I wake up to Luke shaking me.
“Leah… Hey, Leah—it’s okay.” He pulls me into him and I fold into his body. I can feel warm tears stream down my cheeks. “You’re okay. I’m here.” His embrace is warm and comforting and for a moment I forget about my dream.
“I… I…” I whimper. I can’t think, can’t formulate any coherent thought.
“Shhh… Don’t speak.” He strokes my hair. It’s comforting, his touch, and eventually I calm down. It was only a dream. It didn’t mean anything. It didn’t mean anything… I repeat in my head over and over again.
“Lay down,” Luke whispers into my ear. “Just lay down and relax. I’ll be here until you fall asleep.”
“No,” I beg. “Stay with me. Please.”
He looks at me, then nods. “Okay.”
It was then that I notice he isn’t wearing a shirt and neither was I. I was so frustrated with him that I didn’t even think about dressing for bed—I just fell asleep.
I roll over onto my side, trying to force images of Luke’s chiseled abs, his perfect body, out of my mind. It was hopeless though. With Luke laying down next to me, it was all I could think about.
His body radiates heat and I feel his arm reach over my side and latch itself onto me. It’s warm and smooth and more muscled than I remember. I try to pull away, but he pulls me closer. I can feel his hard cock push against my ass.
“Where are you going?” His tone is soft, playful even. He grabs my breast and moan escapes me.
“Luke,” I breathe, “Luke, stop it. Please. Stop toying with me.”
“Is that what you think I’m doing?” He asks bluntly.
I flip over on my other side so I can face him. I get lost for a moment as my eyes wander over his broad shoulders, strong chest, and perfect v taper. I shake myself out of it and refocus.
“It’s exactly what you’re doing,” I say, trying to be stern, but it didn’t come across that way as all he did was shoot me a cocky smile.
He reaches out and cups my breasts, massages them in his strong hands. Pleasure erupts throughout my body. My nipples harden under his fingers.
I hate how even after all that he had put me through, continues to put me through, I can’t stay mad at him no matter how hard I try. He’s gorgeous and perfect and everything I want. I hate it. I hate myself for falling for him this hard.
“No!” I yell. “Stop it! I’ve had enough.” He stops.
“Fine.” He says brusquely. “Have it your way.”
He gets up and leaves and I’m left alone in bed, wondering if I ruined my chances with him.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
LUK
E
I MAY HAVE PUSHED her too far. There’s a thin line between confidence and arrogance, and I crossed it. I pushed when I should’ve pulled. Normally, I wouldn’t care. I could have anyone I wanted.
Leah’s different though, different from all the other girls I’ve had. She actually means something to me. I realized that the moment I saw the blood on the counter and she was gone. But I guess I knew it much earlier than that, the night I was forced to leave her, years ago.
It’s strange for me to even think this way. I never let anyone get this close, never let anyone in. I use people, take what I want from them, and discard them like trash when I’m done. It’s a cruel world, and I’m no saint.
Leah’s the first person who might change that, but I’m pushing her away. It’s probably for the best.
This isn’t supposed to happen.
I’m not supposed to fall for Leah.
It can only end in pain—there is no other way.
LEAH HAS BEEN MOODY all morning, and rightly so. I was an asshole last night. She’s picking at her eggs and hasn’t eaten anything yet. She hasn’t spoken once. What’s going on in her mind? What is she thinking about? Normally, I wouldn’t ask these questions, but for once I’m genuinely interested.
She drops her fork; it clanks against the plate.
She looks at me but doesn’t say a word; she doesn’t have to, anyway—her face says it all. I smile, but it seems to irritate her more. Oops.
Finally, she speaks: “Did they find out how Judith died?”
“If they did, they’re keeping it a secret.” I take a drink of my coffee. It tastes more bitter than usual.
“Why were you at mom’s house the day she died? Why did you show up out of the blue?” She’s staring at me now with those watery, green eyes—large and round. She has kind, beautiful face, and I want to kiss it.
Why did she have to ask me that?
I clear my throat, grab a pill from my pocket, and pop it in my mouth. I take a large gulp of water and swallow it. We were about to leave for New York. This wasn’t something I could explain in five minutes. But the way she regarded me, behind those stray strands of chestnut hair, I could tell that I was on thin ice. And she wasn’t about to let me off the hook.
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