Luke's Absolution (The Colloway Brothers Book 3) (4 page)

When he showed up at Firefly last September, I recognized him immediately. When Livia called him Grant, however, I was utterly confused. Once you see a perfect male specimen like Luke Colloway, you never forget him. He’d aged, of course, and time only made him sexier and darker, but I would recognize him anywhere.

After a few stolen moments alone with Luke, I asked him why Livia called him Grant. All he would offer was “it’s a nickname.” But after the blowup in the hospital when Livia was admitted, it was very evident something underlying was going on that I’d likely never be privy to. When I pressed Livia once, she would only say they had a complicated history. I even tried asking Eric; he swore he didn’t know anything either. I’m not sure I believe him.

Luke Colloway is a mystery, a conundrum. And I hate puzzles or riddles of any kind. I’m a logical, straightforward thinker. I have no patience for the mysterious. Typically, there’s a very good reason people try to hide behind their shrouds and if you go prying, you’ll regret it. So I don’t. But in Luke’s case, I find myself wanting to decipher him for some stupid, unknown reason.

Only, if I crack his code, I have no doubt regret won’t be the emotion taking up residence in my heart. He will consume me, use me, then ruin me. I’m not naïve enough to understand the only way Luke and I could ever end is in heartbreak.

Which is exactly why I have to find a way to squelch this burning inside me and avoid Luke Colloway as much as possible until I can find a way out of this fucking mess.

“
R
un into something
?” I ask taking in the shiner Bigs is now sportin’.

He shrugs, sliding into the seat across from me. I’m always in awe of how graceful he is for a six-foot-five, two hundred-and-forty-pound beast. “Trust me, he looks far worse.”

“He in custody then I take it?”

“Yep.” And that’s all I’ll get from Bigs. He does his job, he does it well, and he’s tight-lipped about giving details. Not that I generally care. I’m not that big of a talker anyway. “So, how’d it go with your new roomie after I left?” Bigs cajoles, a full-on grin eating his face. Fucker. He knows exactly how it went. He could see the steam pouring out of Addy’s ears as well as I could.

“We’re besties now.”

“Umm hmm.”

I have to admit I waited two hours for Addy to come back out of her room, my cock throbbing the entire time, before finally giving up. I heard her talking on the phone shortly after she shut me out and have to imagine she called Livia to confirm my story. I never took her for one to avoid conflict, but in all fairness, it was a shitty move on my part to just blindside her like that. I also know that asking permission from the woman who damn near matches me in the stubbornness department would get me nowhere, so I don’t regret the choice I made.

I need a place to live, a place I’m already paying for, even though I could easily afford to move somewhere else. Somewhere nicer. But I don’t want anyplace else. I want her and I can already tell she’s going to fight me, fight this magnetic pull between us every step of the way.

I didn’t miss the way her eyes dilated in sweet desire the second they landed on me. She was pissed, yes. She also wants me and won’t let herself have me. I plan on making it very fucking hard for her to resist me for long, even though I know I can’t give her everything she needs.

Addy’s an incredible woman and she deserves better than the likes of me, but fuck if I can resist anymore what I’ve been trying to fight for months. Her draw is too powerful. It’s selfish and an asshole thing to do, yet I want her so damn much, I can’t make myself do the right thing and just walk away.

“Couch is still open if you need help moving out,” he smirks.

“I’d rather slit my wrists.”

“Jesus man, that’s a little melodramatic.”

“Just being honest.” Besides, there’s not a damn thing in the world that would keep me away from Addy now that I’ve laid eyes on her again. I’d be lying if I said I could concentrate on a damn thing all day today, not being able to see her face this morning before I left. I may have even tested her door on my way by so I could take a peek. Locked, of course. Smart woman, that.

Bigs shakes his head, chuckling. “So, do you have anything else for me over the weekend or are you good ’til Monday?”

“Nah. I have two asset search requests that came in earlier and a few tracing requests. Those can wait until next week.”

“You get that contract signed with Warnf and Hardy?”

Warnf and Hardy is a local law firm and I recently negotiated an exclusive contract with them. My firm will handle anything and everything from insurance investigation to anything divorce related, like adultery and child custody, locating assets, marital property disputes, and everything else they want to throw at me. I’ve been working on that deal for months now. It’s a gig that helped me secure my move to Chicago, so it’s a big coup. It also means I need to add another body or two to keep up with the expanding workload.

“Had Melinda courier it over this morning. I have two interviews set up for next week. I want you to sit in.”

“You got it. So, are we hitting the bar tonight or what?”

“What? Your ball and chain going to cut the rope she’s tightly wrapped around your dick for the night?”

“Hey, fuck off. That’s not true.”

It so is. In all the years I’ve known Bigs, I’ve never seen him act like this with a single woman. He met Haddie just a few short weeks ago and he’s been dating her since. Although she still has her own place, I’m not sure why. They practically live together at his. He’s whipped and I may give him shit ’til the cows come home, but I’m happy for him. He deserves happiness. “Can’t. Family thing.”

Bigs studies me for a few seconds.

“Christ, spit it out,” I bark.

“Just wondering how things are going with your family, now that you’re reunited and shit.”

I sit a little dumbfounded at Bigs’ question. I’ve been friends with him since I was sixteen. He knows the rocky history between my family and me and he’s one of two people who knows what caused me to spiral out of control. If not for him and Eric Monroe, I’d probably be six feet under. Hell, I’m not sure I would have made it to my twentieth birthday. Bigs single-handedly saved me from myself and the drugs that took over my life at that confusing time. Too bad he couldn’t save me from so many other things, Peter Wilder included. But as I look back, I was where I was meant to be: saving my brother’s wife, even if it cost me a huge part of my own soul in the process. I would do it over and over again. For Livia. And for Gray.

I look at my watch before answering. “Confession was last week, Bigs.”

“I think you missed church last week.” He grins, settling back in his chair for a nice long chit-fucking-chat.

I smirk. I don’t miss church. Not anymore. I need all the absolution I can get and on a very regular basis. I have so many sins to atone for, I could go to church daily and it still wouldn’t be enough. It will never be enough.

Once again, my conscience whispers at me to leave Addy Monroe alone.
She’s too pure for you. Too good for you.
And he’s right. Once again, I tell him to fuck off and take a flying leap off a short bridge. I
need
her. For some absurd reason, she quiets my demons and I’m so tired of them clamoring all the fucking time. I need a respite.

“You’re not gonna leave until I give you something, are you?”

“Ah, you know me so well.”

I glare at my friend, knowing he won’t back down. “It’s getting better,” I confess, giving him as little as possible but hopefully enough that he’ll leave it alone.

“Have you told your brothers or your mom about your dad?”

Guess not.

My sigh is deep and long. “No.”

“Will you ever?”

“No. It’s water under the bridge, man. All it would do is churn shit up that’s better buried with him. Why would I intentionally hurt them?”

“So they understand what the fuck happened, Luke. Your dad’s gone and you’re here. They deserve to know. I don’t know why you’ve shouldered a burden by yourself that’s not even yours to fucking carry, man.”

Bigs’ passionate plea hits me someplace deep. He’s a good friend, a good man, and it’s not very often he expresses his brotherly affection for me. He’s been telling me for years to come clean to my family about what I know. I just can’t do that to them.

They all think my dad was some kind of fucking saint, a hero, father of the year, but he was far from it. He fell off that white horse when I was sixteen. Who am I to tarnish their view of a man they’re all trying to emulate? Who am I to destroy the woman who loved him more than she did herself?

I can’t. I won’t. Like I said, I do have some honor I’m trying to hold onto, so by all that’s holy, I will take this secret to my grave.

My dad’s actions may have been the catalyst to my own martyrdom, but I’ve long accepted the bad choices I made were all mine. I own every single one of them. I was young and stupid and handled things badly, heading a hundred miles an hour blindly down the path of self-destruction.

By the time I did my penance, in walked Livia Kingsley. And so started three years of hell the likes of which I still can’t comprehend some days. Peter Wilder was a thug, an evil malevolent human being who deserves a special place in hell. He did a lot of vile and unforgivable things for the five years I was with him, but his indiscriminate and inhumane torture of an innocent could not go unpunished.

“I made my own decisions, Bigs.”

“Fourteen years is long enough. You deserve to put your demons behind you, Luke.” Bigs only calls me Luke when he means business. He’s serious as fuck right now.

He holds my eyes, silently challenging me to disagree. I do, but I don’t voice it. I’m done talking about shit that can’t be changed. Instead, I nod once, sharply.

“Right,” he replies, pushing himself to stand. He knows I’m done talking and he knows how this story ends. “See you Monday.”

A glance at the wall clock shows it’s after six. My office is about twenty minutes away from my new apartment. I have a family dinner I need to attend in little more than an hour so that gives me about fifteen minutes to shower and change before I need to head to Gray’s.

It takes me just a few minutes to straighten my desk and secure my files before I head out, locking the front door. As my bike roars to life, I find myself wondering what plans Addy has for tonight, wishing like hell I’d said I was busy when Gray called yesterday morning, so I could spend a night sparring with her. As it is, I already agreed. There’s no backing out now.

Oh well…there’s always tomorrow. And the day after that, and the day after that, and the day after that. I let a big smile curl my lips just thinking of the many ways I plan to break down Addy’s steely resolve to keep me from her bed. She may be hardheaded and tenacious, but my picture is in good ol’
Webster’s
next to those two definitions, so even her “A” game won’t be good enough to best me.

I always get what I want. Eventually. And I definitely don’t play fair.

“
S
hit
, shit, shit,” I mutter under my breath. It’s already almost a quarter to seven. I want to shower before I have to head to Livia’s for dinner, but there’ll barely be time to change and freshen up before I have to leave. With Friday night traffic, it will likely be a forty-five minute drive into the city, so as it is, I’m already late.

I barrel through the front door, slamming it shut in my haste, and practically run to my bedroom. A quick scan of the living room shows no sign of Luke. Good. The last thing I’m in the mood for is a run-in with the man who’s vying for “asshole of the year” award. At least, Livia didn’t say Luke was attending dinner tonight. For that I’m thankful. It would have been a big fat no-go otherwise.

Today, I decided since I’ll never be able to bully Luke into moving out, I’m just going to make the best of it until October and find another place. In the meantime, I’m going to keep myself busy, so I have to spend as little time here as possible. It sounds good, in theory, yet in reality, I’m kind of a homebody and the thought of having to work late every night or find some other fake reason not to be in my own home makes me angry.

My sanctuary has been poisoned by a living, breathing, erotic walking piece of art. While most women would die to have Luke Colloway as a roommate, I am not most women. But I am most definitely
female
, and even I know I’m in trouble when it comes to resisting his somewhat unconventional charms. Avoidance is my only option, though, if I’m going to make it out emotionally unscathed.

I drop my purse on my bed and start stripping out of my paint-splattered shirt and jeans. Today I helped a customer on the wheel and let’s just say I spent the next hour cleaning up paint that had sprayed twenty feet across the studio. I got most of it off of my skin, I think, and if I didn’t, oh well. Livia will have to deal. It’s not like I’m out to impress anyone tonight, anyway.

Deciding I should let Livia know I’ll be late, I whip out my phone to text her when my skin begins to prickle. My eyes lift from my fingered frenzy only to land on the man who’s irritatingly preoccupied my every thought all goddamn day.

Standing proudly in my open doorway, Luke looks good enough to eat (literally), in his black molded jeans, scuffed black boots, and tight V-neck charcoal T-shirt. His face is scruffy and his unruly dark locks look freshly showered, combed with only his fingers.

Jesus, every time I look at him, I’m stunned breathless anew. His face looks like that of an avenging angel, but you know underneath he’s the devil incarnate. And I yearn for him to lavish his wickedness over every part of my body, even though I know he will taint me for all others.

Too late, I realize two things.

One: I didn’t think Luke was home, so I didn’t bother closing my bedroom door. I’ve lived alone now for months, and neither Livia nor I needed a lot of privacy before, so that’s a bad habit I’ll have to break immediately.

Two: I never got any further than
removing
my clothes, which now lie in a heap at my feet, so I’m facing my nemesis in my bright pink, practically see-through lacy bra and matching thong.

The look of blatant hunger on his face as his heated eyes rake slowly over my body weakens my knees…and my resolve. Damn him and the unnatural effect he has on me.

“Fuuuuck.” His impassioned drawl reaches my ears and holds a tone of awe I don’t think I’ve ever heard from a man before. Involuntary chills break out. I try to suppress the shiver they create but fail.

Damn. Damn. Damn.

When his lustful gaze finally reaches mine, my traitorous sex readies herself for him to fulfill the silently declared promises I see swirling like thunderclouds in his hooded eyes.

Untold pleasures.

Blissful pain.

Yes. I remember word for word what he said months ago.

Word. For. Word.

We stand there lost in each other for I don’t know how long until logic finally trumps lust.

Wow
. That took a long time.

“What the fuck, Luke?” I yell, stomping to slam my door in his face. Of course, he anticipates my move, stepping inside before I have the pleasure of trying to break his damn nose with the heavy wood.

“Big plans tonight, fireball?”

I stop, unwilling to move any closer, even though my body is being drawn to his like an invisible magnet. He’s struggling to keep his eyes on my face and I inwardly smile. “Yes,” I retort smartly. “Very big.”

“With who?” he demands. As if in slow motion, I watch the lust evaporate in an instant, replaced immediately with anger.
How dare he?

I raise my chin a little. “Not your business, big guy,” I snip, throwing his words from yesterday back in his face.

We both stand our ground, once again locked in an age-old battle of wills until Luke’s phone dings. He takes it out of his jeans, not breaking eye contact. When he finally looks away to read his message, I breathe a sigh of relief, wondering why the hell I’m still standing here in my underwear, giving the man a free show.

I see a sly smile curve his mouth before he pockets his phone again. Before he turns to exit, his eyes deliberately drop one last time to my chest, which I’ve so readily put on display. They linger so long, I know he’s zeroed in on my beaded nipples poking through. “You have a good night, fireball.”

“Stop calling me that!” I yell childishly, pissed at myself for admiring the flex of his ass as he leaves. As soon as he clears the door, I shut and lock it for good measure. Although, I’m sure if Luke wants into my bedroom, he’ll just help himself, lock or not. Just like he helped himself to my apartment.

Egotistical asshole.

For a full minute, I let my inner child out, stomping around my room and muttering wildly under my breath as I pull a fresh pair of jeans from my drawer and throw on a light, three-quarter-sleeve lavender sweater. I pull on a pair of cognac-colored Frye riding boots that I splurged on over the winter and take in my appearance in the full-length floor mirror. Satisfied, I spend the next ten minutes in the bathroom brushing up my makeup and throwing a few curls in my long hair.

When I emerge, I assume Luke has also left. All the lights are off except for a lamp throwing a soft glow in the living room. Even though it’s a warm spring day, I grab a heavy brown leather jacket from the coat closet and, pulling my keys from my purse, head out the front door and down the three flights of stairs.

Our apartment doesn’t have garages; there’s a small parking lot in the back that holds enough spaces for about half the tenants. The good news is I can generally get a spot relatively easily because the average age of our building is about seventy and a lot of the elderly don’t have cars. Sometimes, on Sundays, I will help a couple of them run errands, to the grocery store or the pharmacy to pick up their meds. They have no one else and I’m a sucker for old people.

Just like bad boys.

Absently pushing the back door open, I’m preoccupied with finishing my forgotten text to Livia when I hear the distinct rumble of a motorcycle coming to life. I freeze and slowly raise my head, knowing exactly who that roll belongs to. Not many seventy-year-olds or single mothers driving a bike where I live.

There in all his glory, watching me like I’m his next meal, sits Luke on his Ducati Diavel. The titanium beauty is absolutely stunning, but by all that is holy, if I thought Luke was like a sex god before, he is unequivocally the King of Kings with a 500-pound, 160-horsepower machine sitting between his long legs. I want nothing more than to lie down on that magnificent contraption and selflessly offer myself up for his pleasure. It would be a hardship. It’s a sacrifice I’m willing to make for all of womankind, though. I’m noble like that.

Trying not to let him know he’s getting to me, and pushing down my disappointment that his black leather jacket now covers up his sexy tats, I look away and head to my car. But that vindictive bitch called Murphy’s Law apparently has it out for me, because as luck would have it, it’s parked right beside his bike.

“Hop on,” he demands as soon as I’m beside him.
Oh, I’d like to hop on, all right, but I’ll be hopping on pop, not your bike.

With a slight shake of my head and a deep breath, I gather my wits and move to fully face him. “Did you fall and hit your head as a child? In what instance do you think I’m going to follow your every command?”

“Oh, fireball,” he drawls seductively, “trust me, there’s a time I
know
you’ll follow my every command. Each roughly whispered wicked one of them.”

I suck in a sharp breath at his insinuation, the one that just landed with a loud thud straight between my legs. His deep licentious voice drips thickly with sex and promise. But not the type of promises I’m looking for.

Okay, okay I lie. I
want
those promises. Badly. I just want more than that, too.

“You walked right into that one, sweetheart.” He laughs darkly. He’s right. I did, however, I still want to wipe the sexy smirk off his face. With my mouth…and maybe a certain other body part. Let’s just say Luke Colloway isn’t the only one who knows how to ride. I’m so lost in my lascivious thoughts and trying to come up with my next snarky comeback that I almost miss his next comment.

“I’m not going to argue with you, fireball. We’re already late.”

“What do you mean
we’re
already late?” I ask slowly. Goddamn Livia Colloway to hell. She knew exactly what she was doing. At least, I know Luke wasn’t in on the ruse either until just a few minutes ago when he got a text, probably from Gray, because there was no doubt he thought I was getting ready for a date. For some reason, it makes me feel marginally better that I wasn’t duped by him.

“We’ve been summoned to dinner, doll. Now get on.”

“I can drive myself, thanks,” I mutter, getting more livid by the second. There is no way I can sit with my crotch flush against Luke’s ass and my palms tightly pressed against those corded chest muscles for thirty minutes. That, combined with the reverberation of the bike between my thighs, will have me coming in record time. I’ve been on edge for months, my own fingers not cutting it anymore.

I’m already thinking of excuses I can use to get out of this…

Flat tire.

Attempted mugging.

Bad case of mouth herpes.

…when suddenly I’m lifted off the ground and plopped unceremoniously onto the back of Luke’s Ducati.

“What the hell?” I try struggling; Luke’s hands hold me tight.

“I was told to bring you. That’s what I’m doing.”

“I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself. You’d even be surprised to know I’ve been doing it since I was about ten.”

“Addy, we’re going to the same damn place. Why would we drive separately?” he asks with utter exasperation.

You’re exasperated?
Well, get in line, buddy.

“Because I want to leave when I’m ready, not when you are.”

“Jesus, woman. Must you always be so goddamned stubborn about everything?”

“Me?” I screech, my blood pressure ratcheting up with each second that passes.

“Yes. You,” he pipes back loudly.

“Let me tell you something, you pompous—” Before I can get another word out, his hands wind through my hair and he pulls me to his hard, unyielding mouth, effectively silencing me.

His kiss is controlling. Demanding.
God
. It’s divine. It’s like nothing I could have possibly imagined in my wildest, most erotic dreams. His lips are full and soft and fit perfectly to mine. I fight him for all of one and a half seconds before I melt into his dominance.

When his tongue touches mine for the first time, electricity fires like a headwind through my veins, making me hot and dizzy with longing. He swallows my unwanted moan, making a low growl of his own. At twenty-eight, I’ve been kissed by plenty of men before, but never like this. This is pure, animal male branding. And just like that…I am his.

Almost as fast as he descended he’s pulling away. Leaning his forehead against mine, his breaths come in short harsh gasps. Mine doesn’t. I’m not breathing at all. When his molten, hooded eyes meet mine, I swallow a whimper and begin thinking of a whole new litany of excuses to get out of dinner. There is no way on God’s green earth I can spend an evening with Luke after being kissed like he owns me.

Or else he will. Own me. My lips already singe with his branding.

I don’t want to be his. I
can’t
be his.

He will break my heart.

He will destroy me.

He’s right. I
would
follow every roughly whispered wicked command. God, I’m weak. So pathetically, horribly weak.

I am in so much trouble.

With a slight shake of his head, like he’s as confused as I am, he silently reaches in his sidesaddle and grabs a helmet, gently putting it on me. He adjusts the strap until it’s snug, but not too tight. He takes the keys and phone from my hands and throws them into my purse before sliding the strap over my head and under one arm, so it’s taut against my body.

I let him handle me like a rag doll; each movement is slow and tender as if he’s afraid he’ll scare me away. Little does he know that each soft touch draws me in further. Putting on his own helmet, his movements are quicker and rougher now.