I was tense.
My nerves were stretched thin, and I couldn’t go downstairs. I needed a moment. We had never talked about that night. Stepping inside, I glanced at the kitchen. It was immediately to my right, and I could see it all over. It was like I was there again—three years ago when everything changed. Luke was on his stomach on the floor. His shirt had been ripped, so his entire back was exposed. A huge tear was opened over his back, and there were marks all over him. Lashings. Imprints of fists. Half his back was a deep red, and there were other parts that were already black. Fresh blood seeped out over dried blood.
He’d been beaten. The entire side of his face was swollen. The eye turned toward me was swollen shut with blood streaming from it.
At first, I thought he was dead, and my heart stopped. A moan left him, and my knees almost gave out. I wanted to push all the blood back into him, for all the bruises, broken bones, cuts, and marks to go away and for him to be fine.
I wanted all of it to go away.
Braden was the one who called 911. He heard me screaming…I still didn’t remember that part.
Luke hit a jarring note on his guitar, drawing me from the past and back to reality. Seriously. I’d been ready to take on two thugs beside a dumpster for my stupid-ass cousin, but this had ice filling my veins.
I rolled my eyes upward. What was wrong with me?
The melody was addictive. I felt it reach deep inside me and take root. My breathing wavered as he kept playing. He moved down a chord, and the sound of it seeped into me, smoothing out the haunted memories. Then he began singing. His voice was soft and low, but I could hear it as if I were in the room with him. He was weaving a spell. It was like he threw a spear that had a rope attached to it at me from a hundred yards away, and it embedded deep into my stomach. Then he began pulling on it. I couldn’t fight because it would yank out my insides, but damn, I didn’t want to go with it. This whole thing with Luke was both painful and exhilarating at the same time. I had two urges going through me at once. One was to crap my pants, and the other was to start doing cartwheels.
I was just messed up, which is why I started down the stairs. I still had no clue what to say, but I had to do something.
He was hunched over the guitar in his lap with a beer at his feet. His eyes were closed. As he hit another chord, his thumb beat out the bass. Since he was only wearing jeans, I saw some of the scars on his back. I wanted to go to him, run my hands over those scars, and make them disappear. I couldn’t, though. We weren’t close anymore.
So many ghosts within you
So many haunts to pull you away
You look, I reach out and there’s nothing to do
They take you from me again, far away
I can’t, I can’t, I can’t take your hand
He kept singing, and my heart felt like it was splitting in two, but then he faltered. His eyes opened, and he looked up. He didn’t stop playing, but he stopped singing.
I felt like he was strumming me. I couldn’t look away from his gaze. His thumb stopped hitting the bass, and his fingers slowed on the guitar. “What are you doing here?”
A fever took over my blood, heating me up. “I,” my tongue wet my lips, “um, I’m here to talk about you and me.”
His gaze clouded over, and his eyelids lowered. He bent his head back over his guitar, but he didn’t start strumming again. “There is no you and me. You’re in the band. That’s it.”
I swallowed the lump in my throat. “Luke,” I started.
“No.” He stood up abruptly, setting his guitar to the side. As he advanced toward me, his eyes were smoldering.
When my back hit the wall, I realized I had nowhere to go and could only watch as he closed in on me. A part of me wanted him to keep getting closer; the other part of me was still thinking about crapping my pants.
He leaned a hand against the wall beside my head, keeping a few inches between us. His eyes were hard as he said, “There is no you and me. That died long ago, remember?”
“Luke.”
“No, I don’t want to hear it. You left me in the hospital, and I found out three weeks later that you were dating Turner. That’s how you ended our friendship.”
There was more to it, so much more, but I couldn’t tell him. I’d been quiet all these years, terrified of what he would do if he knew the whole truth. My hands wrung together. “I didn’t want to end it like that. I didn’t.”
“But you did.”
No, I hadn’t. I started to shake my head. I wanted to deny it, but I had let him think that. “I was there. I wanted to go to the hospital. I…just... couldn’t, but that didn’t mean I was thinking about…” I wasn’t making it better.
“I woke up, and you were with Turner.” He leaned in close, his breath coating my skin, caressing and taunting me at the same time. “But you had been with me the night before. You told me you loved me. You didn’t, though. You lied to me.” He pulled back, and I felt his cold stare. “What are you doing here, Bri? The past is done. There’s no going back.”
I wet my lips again. They were so dry. So was my throat. “Braden told me to smooth things over with you. The tension between us is going to affect the band.”
“Because of your brother. The band. That’s why you’re here.” He didn’t move, but I felt him withdrawing. “He’s right. Having a hot chick in the band will get us more attention. I’ve already gotten gig offers for next week, more than normal, so you’re part of that reason, and the other reason I’m allowing you to play with us—is because I owe your brother. He’s been there for me.” Unlike me. That was his insinuation. “He wants you with us because he’s scared that if you’re not around me, you’ll go back to Turner.” The corner of his mouth curved up in a mocking smirk, making him look lethal. “Little does your brother know that I don’t matter. Whatever friendship we had means nothing now. The only thing you want from me…” He paused as his eyes skimmed down my body, taking in my shallow breaths, my full breasts, my nipples pressing through my shirt. If he touched me, I would’ve trembled. He took all this in, and the mocking smirk turned into a knowing leer.
He stepped close to me again. The edges of his jeans grazed against my waist, but he still held himself back, raking me up and down, then scanning my face. With his lips close to mine, holding just out of reach, he murmured, “The only thing you want from me is this.” His hand touched my waist, and I gasped, surging upright, feeling burned from the sensation. He leaned down so his lips lightly rested above mine.
He was torturing me. It felt like he was taking a hot poker to me, singeing me with each poke, and he was enjoying it.
His breath was searing on me as he stared me down. I couldn’t move. I couldn’t look away. The longer he held me, the more I wanted him against me. I started to lean against him, but he took my hands and raised them above my head before I could touch him. I was trapped. He had them pinned. His eyes never left me—he hardly even blinked—heat simmered just below the surface. He was keeping it masked from me, but I still saw it. I licked my lips, needing to unleash it. I needed to feel it, taste it.
“Luke.” I knew what he was doing. He was trying to break me, and it was working.
“Is that what you want?” He bent so his eyes bore straight into mine. One inch. That was all that separated us. “You want this? Then what? Maybe the tension will leave? Everything will be fine?”
My body grew heated, and my heart began pounding. Fuck it. I needed him.
He saw the surrender in me. Triumph flared in his gaze, but instead of closing the distance, he moved away. As he put more distance between us, I groaned in protest. No. It wasn’t going to happen. As he let go of my hand, I snaked it behind his neck, grabbed a fistful of his hair, and pulled his head to mine. Our lips pressed together. Then his arms wrapped around me, and my legs wound around his waist. Feeling his mouth, hot and hungry on mine, I let him do whatever he wanted. I wanted him to do more. Holding me and kissing me wasn’t enough.
I grinded against him, feeling the pleasure building. Shit. An ache was building in every part of my body.
Then he ripped his mouth from mine and dropped me. I felt his fury directed at me, and he shook his head, slowly, staring down at me. My body trembled, wrecked through and through, and I couldn’t speak.
The torture was there, looking back at me. “Bri.” His hands went to my hips, and he crowded me against the wall once more. I closed my eyes, feeling the touch of his hands on me. My jeans had ridden low while my shirt had moved up. He was touching my bare skin. A soft caress, and I swallowed, feeling a burn where they touched. My skin was shivering. It was begging for more of him, but those fingers remained firm. They didn’t move.
He said, “I have been there for you, all your life.”
Hearing a note of finality, my gaze found his and hung there.
He added, sounding sad, “I have crawled into your bed more times than I can remember. I have held your hand. I have hugged you, carried you at times, and watched as you walked away from me. One touch.” His palm pressed against my chest. He flattened it, but it didn’t move. It stayed there, as if literally cupping my heart. It pounded like it wanted to go to him, straining toward his hold. He shook his head. “This is what happens. I can own you.” His breath coated my face again. He was so close. “I can own your body, make you do anything I want...”
He hated me. I was almost panting for him.
I was pathetic.
He added, “You and me, we’ll never be what we were.” He grinded against me, and I bit down on my lip. A groan escaped me. I wanted what he was promising me. He laughed against my face, and I felt it graze my cheeks. Then he said, “Unless it’s this, because this is all I’ll give you. Nothing else. Not again.”
My heart was pounding. I couldn’t look away.
His chest was heaving. “I don’t know why you came here. I won’t give you anything else except…” He waved a hand at me.
My arousal was evident to both of us, but so was his. Lidded eyes looked back at me, darkened in desire, but there was steel determination, too. He wouldn’t give in, no matter what. A deeper part of me ached for him. I missed our friendship.
“I’m sorry.” I wasn’t sure what I was apologizing for. All of it? Only what he knew, not what he didn’t know? I wasn’t sure anymore. My mind was muddled.
“I thought it’d be fine, having you with the band, but it’s not. You’ve avoided me for three years, and this is what happens between us. How long until my dick is deep inside you?”
His hunger was raw. “Luke,” I whispered.
“Go, Brielle. I’ll act normal. You will, too. If we can keep up our game faces, everything will be fine. I’ll be nicer, and maybe Braden won’t worry about it then.” He moved back another step, putting more distance between us. The farther he went, the clearer my mind became.
I nodded to myself. He was right. About everything. It was either sex or nothing. We were no longer friends. My fingers curled, holding onto the sides of my jeans. I ached to be in his arms again.
“Go.”
I started for the stairs.
“Wait.”
I stopped, my pulse was pounding.
“Just so we’re clear.” His eyes were stormy, but cold again. “I’m allowing you to play because you draw more attention to the band. If you want out, say the word. I’ll ask Gunn to join then.” He went back to pick up his guitar.
“Okay.” I raked a hand through my hair, my chest still heaving. I felt drunk from him. My pulse was still throbbing. I had to get out of there. Making my way back up the stairs, I ignored the kitchen, even though I felt the memory still there, lingering in the back of my mind. I stepped off the porch and headed for the sidewalk when I heard a movement and glanced over.
Elijah was standing on the sidewalk, just a few feet from me. His hands were in his sweatshirt, with the hood up, and he smirked at me. “When are you going to grow some balls and tell him what happened?”
“Shut up.” Now was so not the time. “I only told you because I was drunk one night.”
“It wasn’t your fault what happened to him.”
Yes, it was. “Go away, Elijah.”
He nodded and turned around. Before he left, he glanced back. “I came to make sure you were okay, you know.”
“Just go.” We were done. We were over. He needed to leave. “Focus on whatever you do nowadays. Selling drugs, expanding your fucked-up empire, whatever it is. I’m not a part of it anymore.”
He bit out a laugh and started to move forward. “You never were, Bri. I always kept you pure.”
I snorted at the thought. Pure. I was the furthest thing from that.
A soft laugh came from him as he walked down the sidewalk. The sound faded as he disappeared around the block. It sent a chill through me, but I ignored it and crossed the street back to my apartment building. Not that I expected to get any sleep.