Chapter Thirteen
Luke
Ana dries her hair and tosses the towel she used to do so away, securing the one around her body a bit more firmly before she moves to stand in front of me. There’s a droplet of water on her lips, and my tongue longs to lick it away. I don’t have to see beneath the terry cloth to know she’s cold, to know her nipples are puckered and ripe for my mouth to warm them up.
She grabs the bottle and slugs back a drink, grimacing with the bite of the alcohol before she says, “Now say what you came to say.” Her boldness and bravery undo me.
“Fuck,” I murmur, claiming the bottle and setting it down before I slide off the counter and drag her to me. I swore the conversation came first, but tearing down her stepfather hurts her, and wanting her is just so much easier than hurting her. “You’re not alone,” I say, because I did leave, I was selfish enough to believe it only sucked for me.
Her reaction is a hard press of her palm to my chest, and an attempted stiff arm I don’t allow. I capture her arm, bend it, and hold onto her like I should have two years ago, but she isn’t so easily won over. “I can’t do this rollercoaster with you, Luke.”
“I took the coward’s way out,” I confess. “Leaving was the cowardly thing to do.”
“I don’t know what that means.”
“I didn’t want to see your pain. I didn’t want to know I caused it.”
“You didn’t make Kasey do what he did.”
“But as you said at the funeral, pain, and guilt aren’t logical emotions. I didn’t leave because I didn’t want to marry you. I left because it’s what I thought you wanted. I left because—”
“You didn’t know how to get by the divide?” she challenges. “Isn’t that what I said to you last night? You were angry, but we both know it’s true. The divide is too big. I know it. You know it.”
“No,” I say. “No, I do not accept that answer.”
“That doesn’t make it false.”
I cup her face and force her gaze to mine. “I can. You can. We can, Ana.” My mouth closes down on hers, my tongue licking against her tongue even as I drag the towel away and fold her close.
She stiffens for a blink of a moment, before she moans one of her sweet little moans, and softens against me, the very act of her submission undoing any further restraint I had in me. I want everything and more, with Ana, right here and now, and there is no turning back. There was never a moment when that was an option. And if it takes a lifetime, she’ll know that again.
I rotate her, and lift her, setting her on top of the counter, my gaze raking over her high breasts and perfect pink nipples, even as I press her knees apart. She catches my arms, her gaze searching my face, looking for answers I want her to find. “You didn’t come for me until you had no choice.”
“Because I knew that the minute I saw you again, I’d be selfish and try to force myself back into your life. Because that’s where I want to be, Ana.”
“How do I know that?”
“You know me like no one else knows me. You know.”
Her gaze lowers, seconds ticking by before her eyes find mine. “Blood.” She lifts my hand from her knee. “You still have blood all over you.” She pushes against my chest, pushes me away in what feels more than physical. “You need to shower. Undress.”
It might seem like a fair demand, considering it’s Darius’s blood, but Ana is Kurt’s stepdaughter, and is simply not that delicate, not when it comes to battle wounds and betrayals. Which leads me to believe it’s not Darius’s blood she wants me to wash off. It’s Kasey’s and if that’s what this is about, I’ll never wash away the past or the damage it left behind.
She reaches for the towel and I bend down with her, our hands colliding, a jolt of energy between us. “I’m still fucking crazy about you, you know that, right?”
“I don’t know what I know anymore. Please wash off the blood.”
“I will,” I say, and while there’s much more I’d like to say, I force myself to hold my tongue, to give her what she wants. I release the towel and help her to her feet, aware of her naked, perfect body, even as my eyes remain on her face. “Or maybe I should say, I’ll try, Ana.” I step back, give her space, and then pull the shirt over my head.
By the time it hits the ground, she’s wrapped the towel around her body, but I’m also aware of her eyes on mine. Our attraction was always powerful, our hands always all over each other, but wanting each other doesn’t mean we can live together. I don’t know how I wake up every day and look into eyes that see only the man who killed her brother. I don’t know how I walk away from her again, either.
Maybe I’ll just keep her so fucking turned on, she can’t think about anything else. It’s an idea that sounds pretty damn good right about now. I walk to the shower, turn on the water and then finish undressing, the heaviness of her stare following me. Once I’m under the hot stream of water, I regret not dragging her in here with me.
I’ve tried giving her space, two years of too much damn space.
Decision made, I turn and intend to exit the shower to hunt her down. I never get the chance.
The shower door opens and Ana joins me. Just that fast, I’m hot and hard, and ready to fuck but this isn’t going to be a gentle fuck at all. Proven by her proclamation of “I’m angry with you. So damn angry.” She steps into me and pushes me backward, against the wall. I drag her with me, cupping her head, and tangling my fingers in her damp hair.
“Show me,” I challenge.
“We already did this. I did. I still feel angry.”
“Try again,” I order softly. “And if this time isn’t enough. Try again.”
Her eyes glint as she says, “On my terms.”
I don’t get the chance to ask those terms. She’s already lowering herself to her knees, her hand wrapping around my cock. Some part of me still manages to think, though I don’t know how the fuck that’s possible. Ana feels out of control. She’s taking mine. And doing a damn fine job of it, too.
That’s the last thought I have before she’s licking me like I’m a damn ice cream cone, sucking me off like she’s on life support. She goes all in, gripping me at the base of my shaft, cupping my balls, sucking me deep and hard, sucking some more. My shoulders tense where they rest on the wall, my thighs all but buckle. A low groan rumbles from my throat, my gaze locked on the vision that is my cock in her mouth, her tongue swirling around me, licking, oh yeah, licking the hell out of me.
Up and down, she sucks, up and down.
My hand goes to her head, my eyes shutting with the wet heat of her mouth stroking me. “Deeper,” I murmur because I have no willpower with Ana. “Deeper.”
I can feel her smile against me as if she’s won when I’ve lost self-control. Because that’s what she wants—to feel in control—and I sure as hell can’t complain. I pump against her mouth. I’m in a greedy place now, and while I tell myself to stop now, to pull out, she intentionally draws me deeper, sucks me harder. She knows what she’s doing. She knows I’m right there on the edge.
That’s the thing about Ana. She’s a fucking wet dream in real life. The girl next door, who is as dirty and perfect in bed as she is out of it.
I come, I do. I come right there in the shower, in her mouth, and she sucks me dry. I feel guilty as shit a moment later, too, when I’ve never felt that in the past. I just keep taking from her. I pull her to her feet with every intention of pleasing her—God, how I want to please her—but her hand presses to my chest.
“No,” she whispers firmly. “You came here to say something to me. Now we talk.”
I pull her to me and turn us both, pressing her against the shower wall, and tilting her face to mine. “I know you want control. I know that’s what this is about, but I’m not leaving this shower without making you come.”
“Asshole,” she whispers.
“I’m not taking control, Ana. You had it from the moment I met you. You still have it. Because I have craved you on my tongue every moment of the past two years. That’s how much control you have over me.”