Chapter Nine
Lia
Lucian has been gone for a week, and I have heard nothing from him. I continue to go to his apartment each day, disappointed when there is no sign he has returned. I have been tempted to make up an excuse to text him but manage to talk myself out of it. Since there is really nothing to clean, I have rearranged his entire CD and DVD collection into alphabetical order. I am just putting the last DVD in place when I hear keys in the door. My body starts tingling, knowing he is near. I reach the foyer just as Lucian walks in. The welcoming smile slides from my lips as I take him in; he looks like walking death. He staggers on his feet as he crosses the threshold, and I rush forward to grab his arm. He seems startled to see me standing there. “Lia…baby, not feeling so good.” Before I can reply, Sam steps out from behind him carrying a suitcase and briefcase.
“Hey, Lia. Our man here has the flu. He spent yesterday in the bed at his hotel before losing his mind and flying home today. I pretty much carried him through the airport and to the car.” By this time, Lucian has put an arm around my shoulders and is leaning heavily against me. Sam sets the luggage down and takes his other arm. “Let’s see if we can get him in the bedroom.”
Between both of us, we were able to easily guide him down the hall. Sam braces him against the wall while I turn the bed down. I stand there uncertainly, wondering if I should undress him. Luckily, Lucian seems to recover enough to sit on the bed and take his shoes and shirt off. I quickly find a freshly-laundered pair of lounge pants and t-shirt and put them on the bed beside him.
“Sam, I’m going to run to the store and pick up some supplies for him. Can you stay until I get back?”
Lucian squints up at me, saying, “No, Sam will take you. Don’t want you going out alone anymore, not safe.” What is he talking about? I thought we had settled the subject of Sam driving me everywhere.
Sam pulls out his keys, obviously agreeing with his boss. “Lia, Lucian has already told me I need to watch out for you. We’ll wait until he’s in the bed and then go. It won’t take long.”
“But I don’t need to be watched, Sam; I’m an adult.” I can tell Sam is uncomfortable being caught in the middle. I also know he will do what Lucian wants; after all, he signs his paychecks.
“Lia,” Lucian rasps out, “Worried about your stepdad, please just let Sam do his job. Too tired to argue about it, baby.” Well, shit, it seems pretty childish to continue arguing over something so minor with someone so sick. We can take up this discussion again when he is feeling better. Sam looks relieved when I nod my head in agreement.
“Okay. Is there anything in particular you need? I’m going to pick up some ginger ale and Tylenol.”
“Sounds good, money in my wallet.” Lucian is already snuggling under the covers. I have enough money to buy what he needs; I certainly don’t plan on going through his pants pockets. Sam follows me out and grins as I open the front passenger-side door instead of getting in the back.
Soon, we are pulling up to a Walgreens. He insists on going in with me and following me around as I fill the cart with drinks and every flu medication I can find. When I toss two boxes of Kleenex in the cart, Sam shakes his head and adds another. “Trust me, that boy is going to need that and more. He damn near blew the windows of the car out with his sneezes on the way home. I should probably go ahead and warn you, too: he is cranky as hell when he’s sick, which thank God isn’t often.”
Rolling my eyes, I mutter, “Wonderful, that’s just what I need to hear.” I wonder if Sam thinks it’s strange that someone who Lucian hasn’t known for long is preparing to take care of him while he was sick. Maybe this isn’t unusual in their world. I am probably one of many who have walked in and out of Lucian’s life. I am dying to ask Sam, but I figure it’s wrong to put him in an awkward position. He insists on paying for the purchases, saying he has an expense account.
When we arrive back at the apartment, Sam carries the bags in while I check on Lucian; he’s moving restlessly but is sleeping. I return to the kitchen as Sam finishes unloading the bags. “I’m going to fix him something to drink and try to get some medicine in him when he wakes. Sam, I’ll be fine here if you want to leave. It’s getting late, and you’re probably ready to end your day.”
“Are you sure, Lia? I’d be happy to stay if you aren’t comfortable handling all this.”
Giving him a smile of reassurance, I say, “I’m fine. If I have any problems, I’ll call you.” I follow Sam out and lock the door behind him. Returning to the kitchen, I fix a glass of ginger ale and a dose of Nyquil Flu and Cold. I am just picking the drink up when I hear a crash, followed by yelling from the bedroom. Heart beating fast, I run in that direction, skidding to a stop as I see Lucian face down on the floor. “Luc! What happened?”
As I drop to my knees and put my hand on his back, I hear, “fuckingfellovermyfuckingshoes.” The words are so jumbled I have a hard time figuring out what he’s saying. The multiple ‘fucks’ and something about shoes, I get. Looking down, I saw his shoes from earlier lying between his feet. Shit, he had tripped. Taking his shoulder, I pull on him, trying to help him up; it’s like pushing a brick wall with a feather.
“Luc, you’ve got to work with me here unless you want to sleep on the floor. I can’t pick you up on my own.” I hear another f-bomb roll out of his mouth before he struggles into a sitting position. I help him lean back on the side of the bed while he regains his strength. His hair is damp and sweaty, and his face is pale. Putting my palm against his forehead, I gasp in surprise at the heat there. I gently smooth his hair back with my hand, whispering, “You’re burning up. We need to get some medicine into you. Can you stand?” In response, a shiver racks his body, making his teeth chatter.
Leaning his head against me, he says, “Cold, baby.” My heart melts. He looks so much like a sick child cuddling against me for warmth. I want nothing more than to put my arms around him and make it all better. I wonder if there is someone who has more of a right than I do to be taking care of Lucian. Surely, Sam would have mentioned that. I harbor no illusions that just because I had slept with him, I am the only woman in his life. Someone who looks like him couldn’t possibly lack for company…ever. I am here, though, and I want…no, I need to be the one to help him.
“Okay, on the count of three, you do your best to stand, and I’ll help. One…”
“Have to pee.” The bathroom door looks a mile away. Damn, I should have made Sam take him before he left. I can do this. I can do this.
“All right, on the count of three, we go toward the bathroom then.” When I hit three, I take a deep breath and stand, pulling on his arm. He doesn’t appear to be trying to help at all. It’s no secret to any woman that men turn into big babies when they are sick. Jake got the flu last year, and Rose almost strangled him before it was over. A woman can work twelve hours with PMS and a heavy flow and not complain; men can stub their toe and be bedbound for a month. Maybe he needs some reverse motivation. “Luc, you stay right here, and I’ll go get a bowl.”
He opens one eye, peering up at me. “Bowl?”
Trying to appear nonchalant, I say, “Yep, since you’re too weak to make it to the bathroom, I’ll just help you pee in a bowl right here. We have to do what we have to do, right?” Oh, please, don’t let him agree. I will indeed do it, but I so don’t want to…at all. I almost laugh when he starts scowling. Bingo, the male pride has taken a direct hit. He struggles to his feet, weaving slightly. I take his arm, putting it around my shoulders, steering him toward the bathroom door. It’s a slow process, but we make it without either of us falling or peeing on ourselves. He falls back against the wall while I lift the toilet lid, praying he only has to pee. Things will get interesting if it’s anything else. Looking at his pale face, I give him a bright smile, saying, “You’ve got this, right? I’ll be right outside the door. Just yell when you’re finished, and I’ll help you back in the bed.” As I get to the door, I look back to see him struggling to pull his pants down. Don’t those pants have a pee hole? If they do, he seems oblivious. I pause, watching him start to stagger. He’s about two seconds from falling into the damn toilet when I straighten my spine and walk back to him. Without saying a word, I reach for his pants and lower them to his knees. I feel like a total pervert when I admire his cock. Even soft, he’s big and beautiful. I quickly avert my gaze as he takes it in his hand and what sounds like two gallons of water splashing fills the room. When the sound stops, I pull his pants back up and help him to the sink, washing his hands for him.
He’s trembling all over when we finally make it back to his bed. I tuck him under the covers and end up in a less-than-graceful belly flop onto his chest when he didn’t release his hold on me. I try to push away, but he only holds tighter. “Stay; you feel so warm.”
“Luc,” I squeak out, “you need to let me go. I’ll get your medicine and a drink and be right back.” For a moment, I think he’s going to refuse, but his arms drop limply away, and I pull back before he changes his mind. Running back to the kitchen, I pick up the abandoned glass and Nyquil, hurrying with it to the bedroom. I sit beside him, putting a pillow under his head so he can drink the liquid medication, followed by a few sips of ginger ale. He’s still shivering, so I find another blanket in the closet, tucking it in around his shoulders.
He grabs my hand as I’m pulling away. “Sleep with me, Lia; so fucking cold.” The school required flu shots so I have had mine, but I’m not sure it will help if I am in such close contact with him. The sound of his teeth chattering makes up my mind. I quickly pull my shoes off and crawl in the other side of the bed. Lucian immediately seeks my warmth, pulling my back firmly to his front, sighing against my neck. The feel of his breath on the sensitive area along with his firm body is enough to make my panties go damp. Lucian might be physically sick, but it appears I am mentally sick if I’m lusting after someone as ill as he is. A yawn escapes my mouth as I settle against him. It‘s a little after nine, early for bedtime, but it looks like I’m going to sleep; I don’t want to disturb Lucian with the noise of the television.
Sometime later, I wake to the sounds of Lucian choking; I know instinctively he’s dreaming as he did the last time we were together. “Luc,” I say quietly, trying not to startle him. “Luc, wake up. You’re dreaming.” When he doesn’t respond, I put my hand on his head, starting to gently run my fingers through the thick, damp strands. “Shhhh, it’s okay. You’re safe; no one is going to hurt you, Luc.” He continues to struggle for a few minutes more before my voice and the comfort of my hand seem to reach him. As the horrible sounds stop emitting from his throat, I slowly settle my body back against his. Instead of turning away, I bring my arms around him until I am stroking his back soothingly. His head still feels hot against my neck as he turns into my body, seeking the comfort of my arms. “I’ve got you, baby; go back to sleep.” The endearment slips out in the dark, feeling foreign but somehow right on my tongue. His arms lift, pulling me into him. Soon, the soft sounds of his snores vibrate in my ear, but still he holds me as if holding onto a lifeline. I have spent my whole life searching for shelter from the storms that chase me, so I give him what he needs without reservation, holding him tightly the rest of the night.
Lucian
The room is spinning, and I have an overwhelming desire to puke. Fuck, have I passed out drunk? The room finally comes back into focus, and my stomach quiets as the spinning slows to a ripple. I try to move, but there is a weight on my chest and my legs are wrapped around something…or someone. Tentatively, I look down to see blonde hair. Lia? Shit, the way I feel, I’m not even sure. My hand slides under the cover, coming to rest on the curve of an ass my body recognizes. Yeah, Lia. Even though I feel like I have been beat to shit with a steel bat, my body stirs as it always does when she’s anywhere in the vicinity. When her body shifts, pushing her tits into my stomach and her pussy against my cock, I groan, waking her. “Luc,” she croaks, her voice heavy and husky. The sun coming in through the blinds slants across her beautiful face, filled with concern. “How are you feeling? Do you need me to get you something?”
A harsh laugh escapes my lips. How I feel is like shit, what I need is to fuck her until I either pass out or die; either way, I’ll go happy. “Yeah, baby, I need that sweet pussy all over my lips. Just fucking sit on my face and give it to me hard.” When she jerks back as if she has been slapped, I know I’ve actually given voice to my dirty thoughts. Fucking hell, the jig is up. Any illusions she’s been harboring about me being a nice, but horny, guy are over. I’m a dirty motherfucker who thinks about doing equally-dirty things to her pussy most of the damn day and night. After she does a bang-up imitation of an owl for another minute, peals of laughter fill the room.
“Well, I see you are feeling better this morning. You’ve been so sick that, trust me when I say, even if I sat on your face, you’d probably fall asleep before the first lick.”
The fuck? Why wasn’t she running in horror? Most of the rich bitches I’ve slept with want their sex straight up; no kink. Even the cock-gobbler Monique is a fan of plain missionary. The women Aidan and I shared…now, they’re a different story. If you are willing to let two men fuck you at once, you don’t have many hang-ups, but then again, that’s not something that appeals to most women. I’d half-expected Lia to freak out when I had fucked her from behind in my kitchen, especially being as inexperienced as she was, but she seemed to love it.
She’s right about one thing now, though: I’m as weak as a newborn kitten. But I’m not ready to give up. “You could fuck me,” I suggest, curious as to her reaction.
Sitting back on her heels, she nods as if actually considering it. “Yes, I could…but I’m not going to. You’ve been in the bed for two days, Luc, and another day before you flew home. Other than fluids, you haven’t had anything to eat in days, so I know you’re weak. How about I fix you some toast for breakfast?” Toast seems to be code for no pussy.
Suddenly, it all comes back to me. Sickness had hit me like a sledgehammer. I’d woken up in a strange room, too weak to move. How I had even made it to the airport and onto my plane is a mystery. I remember Sam coming on board and half-carrying me to the car. Then I recall only bits and pieces of Lia stroking my forehead with a washcloth or helping me drink. I also vaguely remember holding her to me while I tossed and turned. Shit, she has been taking care of me for days, I assume. The look of tender amusement she is giving me now makes me shift uncomfortably. How have things gotten this far out of hand? She is now officially my longest relationship in eight years. Even if I don’t want to admit it, I know why I was drawn to her; hell, even Aidan knows why. I’d never intended for things to go beyond sex with her. Goddammit, though, she has something none of the other women I’ve dated in years had; she needs protection and that fucking slayed me. Her being my housekeeper is complete bullshit. I allowed her in my home because I want her here, and she needs a reason for it to be acceptable for me to take care of her.
How many women would have spent two days taking care of a virtual stranger? I remember enough to know that not only has she watched over me, she has cared for me. It’s been a long time since I’ve allowed someone to be around me while I’m vulnerable. Well, I didn’t exactly have much of a choice in the matter since I’d been so fucking sick, but I had let her stay and so had Sam, which certainly said something. Sam, Cindy, and Aidan are not only employees; they are family. We might fight amongst ourselves, but we are also fiercely protective of each other. Sam would never leave some random woman in my house while I’m too out of it to know what’s going on. They all know I don’t bring women here. I should probably fire his ass, but strangely enough, I’m glad. Sometimes there is no replacement for a woman’s touch. At times, I’ve missed having someone around other than my small circle of friends.
I’m abruptly pulled from my thoughts by Lia’s small hand pulling on my toe. “Hello? Are you sleeping with your eyes open or just trying to ignore me?”
Giving her a lazy grin, I let my eyes slide leisurely up and down her body, pausing to admire the way my t-shirt outlines her tits. What man isn’t turned on by a woman wearing his clothes? “I could never ignore you, sweet Lia. I was just working out the details of you sitting on my…”
She sticks her hand up, yelling, “Stop! Don’t finish that sentence. That is not on the menu for you this morning. The only thing I need to know from you is whether you would like scrambled eggs with your toast.”
We both know what I want to say, but I decide to take mercy on her and myself, as well. Unless she is willing to do most of the work, I don’t have it in me yet to fuck her, no matter how much I want to. “Yeah, baby, I’d like some eggs.”
“Coming up. Just stay here, and I’ll bring a tray when everything is ready.” She jumps from the bed, and I bite my lip as the luscious curve of her ass peeks out from under my shirt when she bends to slip what appears to be a pair of my socks on her feet. If she doesn’t leave the room soon, I will be begging her to ride my exhausted body.
Easing to the edge of the bed, I put my feet on the floor and stand on shaky legs. The room spins for a moment before righting itself. It takes much longer than usual, but I use the toilet, brush my teeth, and cringe at my reflection in the mirror. Even if I have to crawl, I am taking a shower after breakfast. Maybe I can play on Lia’s sympathy and talk her into taking one with me. There are worse things in the world than having a beautiful woman wash your cock. If the twitching in that region is anything to go by, my cock completely agrees.
The kitchen seems miles away as I make my way slowly there. Lia is humming while scrambling enough eggs to feed an army. My stomach growls in response to the smell of food after days without it. I pull a stool out and slump in it. Damn, am I actually sweating just from that small amount of activity? I must look as washed out as I feel, because Lia turns, giving me a look filled with sympathy. “It’s almost ready. Do you want butter on your toast?” When I nod, she slathers it on several pieces before reaching up to get glasses out of the cabinet. Her shirt once again rides up, and I grit my teeth. It’s no myth; men are horny in the morning, and even sick, the urge to spread her out over this very counter I’m sitting at is strong. Instead, I push my throbbing cock down from where it seems to be trying to break out of the top of my lounge pants.
Lia puts a plate of perfectly-cooked eggs, toast, and bacon before me. She adds a tall glass of orange juice and a jar of strawberry jelly. In what is probably an embarrassing display of table manners, I attack the plate like a starving animal. When I’ve devoured everything in record time, she silently refills it. I grimace as I note her full plate. “Sorry about that; I guess I was hungrier than I thought.” Now that the empty feeling has been sated, I resume my breakfast at a more-leisurely pace. “What day is it?” Man, when was the last time I had to ask that? I wonder if she should be in class this morning instead of cooking for me.
“It’s Sunday. Sam brought you home on Friday evening while I was here cleaning up. Other than me waking you for medicine, fluids, and um…the bathroom, you slept right through until this morning.”
It’s unsettling to think of losing so much time. My last solid memories are of meetings with some of my development team in our New York office. I haven’t had the flu in years, and it completely kicked my ass. Sam had it last year and, truthfully, I’d wondered why it had taken him an entire week to recover. Hell, I understood now.
I look across the counter at Lia, taking in her beautifully mussed appearance. Her long blonde hair is in a lopsided ponytail on the top of her head…in a bread tie? Her face, devoid of makeup, is flawless. Her blue eyes sparkle, framed by thick lashes, and my shirt collar hangs off one side, exposing the creamy flesh of her shoulder. Most women I know would never be seen in front of a man in less-than-perfect condition, but Lia doesn’t act self-conscious at all; actually, she looks completely comfortable. After seeing me at my worst for the last few days, she probably figures it doesn’t really fucking matter anymore, and I like that. Clearing my throat, I say, “Thank you for taking care of me. I…hope I didn’t ruin any plans you might have had.”
She takes a sip of her orange juice, seeming pleased by my words. “You’re welcome. I’m glad I could help, and no, I didn’t have any plans. I usually spend the weekend studying, doing laundry, and visiting Debra if I have time.”
“No big parties? Isn’t that the best part of college?” I tease.
She shakes her head, and somehow I already know she isn’t a typical college student. “Nah, that’s not really my thing. I have gone to a few parties with Rose when she refused to take no for an answer, but I don’t enjoy that kind of thing. I’d rather curl up with a good book than watch a bunch of drunks making fools of themselves. I…didn’t have many friends growing up, so crowds kind of bother me.”
The pain that crosses her face is impossible to miss. I find myself wanting to comfort her, wanting to kill the fucker who put that look there. “Tell me about your life growing up, Lia. Were there good times for you?” She looks agitated, and it’s on the tip of my tongue to tell her to forget my question when she starts talking.
“Good times? No, there were none of those. There were moments that weren’t as bad as others. My real father was never in my life, and my mother spent her whole life reminding me of how I ruined everything for her. I don’t know why she didn’t just give me away; we would have both been better off.”
Dreading the answer, I ask, “Did she beat you?”
Lia shrugs her slim shoulders saying, “She smacked me around, slapped my face when she was angry, threatened me, insulted me. Just depended on her mood.”
“What about your stepfather? Did he hit you?” I already knew the bastard had scarred her back.
“He, um…threw things at me sometimes. Like beer cans, and he liked to slap my butt and insult me.”
“And he never raped you?” Even though I have asked her this before, I need to clarify it. She is tiny and would have been so easy for someone to take advantage of, especially a drunk bastard like her stepfather.
“No…I told you I took care of that.” She shuts her eyes, and I curse as a tear leaks out.
“How, baby? How did you stop him?” I ask softly.
She wipes her cheeks, turning her head away. “He was constantly insulting women who weren’t stick-thin. He rode my mother about her weight. He had…started making comments to me about my body and touching me in small ways at every opportunity. I knew what was coming unless I did something. So, I started to eat…to gorge, until I gained so much weight I barely recognized myself anymore. Kids at school made fun of me, but it worked. He was completely repulsed. I could handle all of his cruel jokes and insults if it meant he wouldn’t touch me in that way, and he didn’t. Eating myself half to death saved me. He and my mother sat around laughing, calling me every version of fat they could think of, but he wasn’t interested in…anything sexual with me. I saved myself.”
I drop my head into my hands, not wanting her to see how her story moves me. What girl that age has to come up with ways to make sure the people who are supposed to protect her don’t violate her instead? My lonely life growing up without my parents suddenly pales in comparison to what she has faced. “How about the burn? How did that happen?”
She shudders, and I feel like a bastard for making her talk about something so painful. “It was right before my mother kicked me out. They were fighting and I was doing the laundry. He was mad and drunk. I was using the iron when they came in and I set it down, trying to leave before they noticed me. He…somehow burnt his hand on it, and he was so mad. My mom ran out when he turned his attention to me.” A tear slips down her face as she continues. “He told me not to worry about him touching me, but that I needed something to remember who I belonged to. Co—Cows are branded by their owner. Oh, God, I just remember the smell, the awful smell. Then the pain; my whole body was on fire.”
“Fuck,” I spit out, so angry on her behalf that I want to rip someone’s head off. And now her cunt of a mother wants to put her daughter right back in the line of fire again? I’ve already got my lawyer looking into it; now I plan to have my investigator find out more about the fuckers who put a poor, innocent girl through Hell. I pick up her hand, stroking the soft skin. “How did you make it this far on your own, baby?”
She uses her other hand to wipe the moisture from her eyes before answering. “I applied to every college around during my last year of high school. I was offered a full scholarship to St. Claire’s and was just trying to make it at home until school started. I hadn’t really thought of all the other expenses outside of what was covered. When my mom kicked me out, I was lucky enough to meet Debra, who you spoke with on the phone, and get a job at a diner she owns. She and her boyfriend Martin helped me so much. I…worked there and lived in my car to save money for school.”
My stomach flops, and I feel bile rising as I gape at her. “You lived in your car? I thought you said they helped you. How is that help?” I know my voice is rising when she flinches away. I lower it, fighting for control. “Honey, I’m sorry. I’m just trying to understand.”
“Debra asked me to stay with her;” she says quietly, “but I…just didn’t trust anyone at that point. I had the car I had bought from her, and at least it was mine. I spent a lot of time at the library and the break room at work, so I wasn’t really living in the car. When school finally started, all my savings went so fast. Debra tried to loan me money, but again, I just couldn’t take it. My roommate told me about Date Night where she was working, and well…you know the rest.”
Indeed, I fucking do, and it makes me furious on her behalf all over again. I am stunned to know all she has gone through. It’s amazing she has made it to her last year in college, all on her own, after living in a fucking car. “Have you seen or heard from your mother since you left, or your stepfather?” She shakes her head slowly.
“No, I don’t know how they found me; I’ve been so careful to stay away from areas I know they frequent. St. Claire’s is miles away from where they live, and I’ve never known them to have any business around here.”
“Honey, thanks to the internet, finding someone is nothing anymore.” She looks terrified at my words, and I scramble to reassure her. “I don’t want you to worry about them, okay? I have my people on this. If you do have to go to court, you’ll be well-protected, and you’ll have someone there to watch out for your interests.”
She squeezes my hand back, looking so fragile in that moment. “Thank you, Luc. I’m sorry to put this on you. This probably wasn’t what you were expecting when you asked me out.” She is right about that, but in a different way than she means. She is so much more than I was expecting, and I’m freaking reeling from it. Her story, though different, is eerily familiar to me. The need to protect her is overwhelming. The lines between her and my past are blurred further as I’m drawn to her, fucking lost in my desire for her.
When she stands to start cleaning up the kitchen, I silently collect our plates and help her load the dishwasher. When we are finished, I take her hand and tug her back toward the bedroom. “Come rest with me for a while.” She settles next to me without protest, and I pull the comforter over us. I’m still too tired to touch her like I want, so instead, I settle for curving my body around hers, shuddering as she tucks her tight ass against my groin. I push up my shirt she is wearing and feather my fingers over her stomach. The sound of her soft breathing lulls me into sleep. When I wake in the evening, she is gone, leaving a note on the pillow saying she has gone home to get ready for school tomorrow. The smell of her scent on the pillow beside me makes me feel something I haven’t admitted to feeling in a while: lonely.