Anger is burning in my belly, a product of a past I was thrown into, and the woman who lived, and in some ways died, inside that history with me. I open the door. Ana’s sitting on the edge of the bed, staring at the door. The instant she sees me, her lips part, and her eyes travel my body before jerking back to my face.
“You have to put a shirt on. You just—have to.”
My cock is pretty damn pleased with this reaction that says she wants me, but my brain is working overdrive, and for once, overpowering that plaything in my pants. “Why, sweetheart? You want to kiss the scar you gave me better? It’s too late for that. Or maybe, you want to lick me all over? You already did that. You don’t get to do it again. Not after trying to kill me.” I walk to the end of the desk where I left my gun, pick it up, and then lay down on the ground at the foot of the bed. My phone goes to the floor. The gun sits on my gut.
Ana moves to the end of the bed, and sits there, staring down at me. “What are you doing?”
I notice she avoids my name when she would normally do otherwise. I guess she just can’t figure out who I am anymore. Well, I know. And Lucifer fits. She knows, too. “I’m catching a few z’s, and protecting you from anyone that comes in the door. If it so much as jiggles, I’ll sit up and shoot.”
“It’s been a hellish night and morning. Lay on the bed. You can have the side closest to the door. Please.”
I glance up at her. “Sweetheart, if I get in that bed with you, I’ll have you naked in about thirty seconds, and while we’ll both enjoy that, you’ll just hate me for it after. Not to mention we won’t get any sleep.”
“I could say a lot of things to that response, but I probably shouldn’t. We’ll put pillows between us.”
“If you think a pillow will stop me from getting naked with you, you might have been right when you said you never really knew me, Ana. That was right before you shot me, right? I told you. I want to fuck you. I don’t want to sleep next to you.”
She buries her face in her hands and groans a frustrating sound and then glowers at me, all sexy and way too damn hot for my own good. “Fine, Lucifer. Sleep on the damn floor. Just do what you want.” She stands up and walks to the side of the bed before climbing on top.
She tosses a pillow down on top of me. I grab it and stick it under my head. “For the record, me down here and you up there is not what I want. It was never what I wanted, Ana. It’s just who we are now.”
“Yeah,” she says softly. “I know. “
That’s all she says and I want more. But then, I’ve always wanted more when it comes to Ana. And more was never enough.
Chapter Twenty-Six
ANA
My body is tired. My mind is tired. I need sleep, but I can barely breathe in this hotel room with Luke on the floor and me in this bed. I push off the mattress and grab my bag before walking into the bathroom and shutting the door. Once I’m inside the bathroom, I lean on the door, trying to find the energy to get in the shower, despite the fact that washing off the grime will feel heavenly.
I just don’t know how to be with Luke, how to act, how to function when he’s close. And yet if the last two years have proven anything, it’s that I have never gotten comfortable with being without him, either. And the truth is that every moment I’m with him drives home how empty life has been without him. And yet, we’re together and he’s on the floor. His words play in my head: I told you. I want to fuck you. I don’t want to sleep next to you.
I earned that attitude with a bullet. No, I earned it by standing against him, not with him. I force myself off the door and turn on the shower. Once I’ve peeled away my clothes, I step under the spray.
Instantly, I’m back in time, and not to the bad places I’ve lived most of the past two years, either. I’m in a good place, remembering that enchanting time in life when Luke and I were just finding each other. The night I’d agreed to have dinner with him. It was snowing, really snowing, but I knew soldiers and I knew them well. If he wanted to see me, no storm was going to keep him away. And he’d showed up with flowers and a bottle of champagne. And good Lord, in a snug T-shirt and jeans and a biker jacket, he’d looked sinful enough to earn his nickname, Lucifer. And he’d looked me up and down, in my own jeans and sweater, and then fixed me in a hungry stare that had my heart racing and sex clenching.