She squeezes her eyes shut. “I don’t know how to do this, Luke.” She opens her eyes. “I don’t know how to be without you, but I don’t know how to be with you, either. It feels wrong. You killed Kasey.”
But it’s more than that, I think, returning to the present.
I killed Kasey and then I left her to deal with the pain alone.
Damn it, I have to just deal with the trouble we’re in and then talk to her about us. I knock on the door, only to find the door is actually cracked. I know Ana, and this is her way of saying, if it’s necessary, come in, even if she’d prefer I not. It doesn’t mean she wants me or us. It’s about logic and her training again, her understanding that right now, we’re on the run and emotions don’t get to dictate her decisions. Obstacles, like locked doors, can save, or cost, a life.
I step into the room to find a bed as the centerpiece while two chairs sit to the right by the window. Ana is nowhere in sight, but her shoes are at the end of the mattress, and the shower is running in the connected bathroom, with the door half-open.
With a lift of my hand, I toss the bag of clothes on the bed and open the bottle of whiskey, slugging back a drink, the burn of the booze far more welcome than the burn of my actions. I carry the bottle with me and step into the bathroom, and halt when I find Ana standing in a glass-encased shower, water flowing over her face, her perky little bottom facing me. It’s perfect, and I know just how it feels in my hands and pressed against my cock, a cock that is presently attempting to salute her banging, beautiful body.
Ana turns off the water, taking her time to wring the water from her long hair before allowing it to rest just above her narrow waist. I’m imagining my hands on her waist, pulling her down on top of my rock-hard cock, when she reaches for her towel. I want to deny her that towel, and join her, fuck her, make love to her, but there is too much wrong between us to make that right.
Damn it to hell.
I’m about two seconds from closing the space between us and getting naked with her when I realize this needs to be on her terms as much as possible. Our breakup was on my terms. Our recovery has to be on hers. For this reason, I force myself to lean on the bathroom counter and just wait, wait until she’s ready for me. At this point, she hasn’t noticed me yet, which tells me it’s a good decision. She is not herself right now, but then, she just saw Darius, another long-term presence in her life, die. And once again, I cut her off.
Fuck me, because I just keep fucking her and not in a good way.
It’s not until she’s wrapped her hair and then twined a towel around her lush curves, that she steps out of the shower and gasps as she brings me into view.
“Luke,” she whispers, her body tensing.
Not the reaction I want from the woman I love.
I lift the bottle of whiskey in the air. “I brought you a little liquid relaxation.”
“I’m not sure dulling my senses is what either of us needs to do right now.”
If we were about to fuck, I’d agree, I think, but we have to talk, and it won’t be an easy conversation to digest for either of us. “We’re not going anywhere until we get a good night’s sleep,” I counter, shaking the bottle in her direction, hoping to lure her a little closer and acutely aware of the fact that all that stands between me and her is space and that little terry cloth towel.
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.