Spent - Part Three (Bad Boy Fighter Book 3) (2 page)

Luke holding me makes me feel a little uncomfortable, despite my better judgment. I know there’s no way in hell he would ever hurt me, but I still can’t shake the way I feel whenever I’m touched. The massages he gives me are okay, because I’m usually mentally prepared for them and they help to calm my nerves. But the touching, especially when it’s sensual, is almost too much for me to handle. I might not have been raped, but I came way too damn close to it, and that vulnerable feeling still persists.
 

Pressing my ear against Luke’s chest, I listen to his heart beat. It’s calm and strong, just like him. Closing my eyes, I listen to the beat, allowing the soothing rhythm bring me to a state of peace.
 

Dark, wild eyes follow me. I’m walking down a street. I can’t actually see him, but I feel his eyes on me, burning my bruised flesh.
 

My arms wrap around my body. I’m not naked, but I’m exposed. His eyes devour me, full of malice and lust, invading my soul, tarnishing what little bit of purity it might have left.
 

I scream as the pain of his gaze tunnels relentlessly, deep into my very core, but no sound comes out of my mouth.
 

My vulnerability is crippling me and panic shreds my resolve as I wait for the horrible caress to come. I search for Luke, but he’s no where to be found.

Strong arms, sinews on tendrils wrap around my body. I want to fight them away, but I’m sinking like a coin in the ocean. My fingers pry at the engulfing muscles in terror.
 

Lips, hiding teeth press close to my ear and I hear the white noise and breath shush me to give in.

I scream, sob and flail my arms, and this time the sounds erupt from me, propelling me out of the darkness.

My eyes are open, I’m hot and I feel sweat and tears on my face. I’m still being held but the touch feels less malicious. My senses work overtime to process all that I’m feeling, smelling, and hearing.

 
I take in a deep breath. The smell is familiar, relaxing even. Finally, my brain begins to process what is going on.

“It was just a dream, baby,” Luke’s calm voice whispers in my ear.

Tears run down my cheeks. Wiping them away with the backs of my hands, I lean into Luke’s bare chest and take in his smell. Sandalwood and vanilla invades my nose. It’s the scent of his body wash and underneath it all, I can smell him. The delicious pheromones that so easily supercharge my body can’t be masked by soap and they bring me down to a level of calm from the adrenal rush of my nightmare.

Luke’s hand brushes through my hair, “Are you okay?”

“I think so,” I whisper.

“Wanna talk about it?”

“He’s in my dreams,” I choke out, “I can’t escape him.”

Luke pulls me in closer as he plants a kiss against my forehead, “You’re safe Tasha. Here with me.”

Every muscle in my body screams at me, begging me to let this man take me away into the fantasy world he’s trying to create for me. I want so badly to be loved and caressed and to have all the pain kissed away. I even know that Luke could do all of that, if I would just let him in. But those cold eyes that haunt my dreams always pull me back, keeping me from tender release. They remind me, mockingly, that right now my mind and soul are wounded, and no amount of Luke’s love is going to fix that.

I pull away from him, “I’ve… I’ve got an article I should work on.”

Luke’s head turns to look at the glow from our alarm clock, “It’s three in the morning, Tash.”

“I don’t think I can sleep,” I mutter as I pull the blankets away from my body.

“Stay with me,” he whispers.

The sound of heartache in his voice forces hot tears to invade the corners of my eyes. He wants to fix me. He’s giving me everything and I’m just pushing him away. It’s killing me, but I can’t process all of this when the thought of doing anything remotely resembling intimacy makes me want to cry.

Standing up out of the bed, I turn around to face Luke. Soft moonlight cascades across his bare skin, revealing every delicious muscle along his perfectly chiseled body. The blankets drape across his hips, keeping his succulent root away from my hungry eyes.  

My sex salivates, begging me to allow this sex god to ravage me, but my mind and my heart can’t handle it right now. Despite everything that I feel for Luke, my injured soul works against my desires, forcing me to simply feel empty and confused. The way his touch satisfies me is like water to the parched, but no matter how bad my thirst, I can’t enjoy even a sip.

“I do love you,” I whisper, leaning in to kiss his lips. The taste of salt invades my mouth. I strain to look into his eyes, despite the dim lighting, and there, resting on the beautiful flecks of green and brown, I see the glistening of tears.

“I love you too, Natasha,” Luke cautiously returns my kiss, “I’m going to make you some tea while you work.”

Tears swell up in the corners of my eyes, “Please… I’ll be fine.”

Luke pulls the blankets away from his body, revealing his impressive cock, “No really, I don’t mind.”

I grit my teeth, “Honestly Luke, I’m fine. Just leave me alone.”

The man I love stares at me for what feels like eons. His expression is almost emotionless, but behind the glazed stare of his hazel eyes, there’s an emotion that kills me to see and almost too much to bear. Heartache.

Quickly, I rush out of the room before my sobbing can reveal to my lover just how broken my mental state is at this time. I can tell that he knows that I’m not handling this well. In fact, he and I are slipping. I’ve been seeing a therapist ever since the attack, but I feel like I’m not making any sort of progress, even though the therapist assures me otherwise.

I suspect Luke also needs some healing, and not only from my emotional distance. He does his best to hide it from me, but it’s fairly clear from his tone and language that there’s an unresolved anger he’s harboring towards Derrick that needs to be addressed. The issue is exacerbated by me sharing the same feelings of resentment and anger. I know it will help to let the feelings go, but it’s still not something I’m ready to begin to do.

I stop in front of my computer desk. Gripping the back of the seat, I remain standing. Closing my eyes, I suck in a deep breath. I need to calm down before my heart explodes out of my chest. My ribs are still not fully healed and the pounding from the chaos is making them throb.

My mind races as I try to process all that’s happening and all that I need to do. I’ve already pushed Luke away once, for stupid reasons. But if I push him away again, I’ll never forgive myself. I can’t hurt him, especially not like this. I need to find a way to heal, but right now, the best I can do is cope by drowning myself in work.

Sitting down at my desk, I turn on my computer. Working at three in the morning is certainly not ideal, but it has kind of become my norm since I went back to writing. Luke begged me not to go back to my job for at least another month. My boss even told me to take my time. The alternative was to slowly go stir-crazy sitting at home, waiting for Luke each day to get back from training. I
needed
to do something to keep my mind busy and off of depressing things. Sadly, I now think work has become my bandage, preventing me from fully focusing on getting better.

As my desktop screen lights up, I notice I have a handful of messages in my inbox. I’m not really expecting anything from work. There’s a Lottery scam that I’ve seen before and should really be getting filtered to my spam folder.

I delete that and a couple of others, some promising alluring travel at amazing prices, and some telling me Christmas is only a matter of months away.

Sighing, I make a mental note to unsubscribe from a few of these distractions, and then perhaps swayed by the very advertising I’m thinking of unsubscribing from, I decide that it’s soon time to upgrade my computer before this old clunker dies on me.

My heart leaps to my throat when I notice who the next email is from. It’s from Detective Sloan, the investigator behind my assault case. Hope swells up inside of me. Hope that the detective has managed to find some shred of evidence to use to convict Derrick. Hastily, I click open the email.

My heart sinks when I read the message.

Miss Hendricks. I hope you are well. Thank you for your co-operation in our investigations to date.

Reports returned from Forensic Medical Officer’s and Forensic Nurse Examiner procedurals from your time under hospital care have been returned and fail to demonstrate any substantiating evidence against the accused, Mr. Baptiste.
 

These reports have been analyzed in association with the details from your Victim Impact Statement and our investigations at the scene.

I know this isn’t what you were hoping to hear Miss Hendricks, but with legal representation and correlated submissions of alibi from Baptiste, and your witness testimony from a single source unreliable for indictment, it doesn’t bode well for allocating further resources.

Based on this, my departmental senior has for the interim, halted further investigation on your case, primarily as it relates to pursuing Mr. Derrick Baptiste as the assailant. I will call you during office hours with further information and to discuss this in greater detail, along with your options and proceedings henceforth.
 

Best regards. Sloan.

I sink back against my chair, defeated. This night has been shitty at best, but news like this only pushes the night to full blown hell. I close my eyes and try to force myself to not scream. The bedroom door opens with a squeak, pulling me out of my seething trance.

Luke walks out of the bedroom, a serious frown on his face contrasting the gym shorts hanging comically from his hips. Silently, even with all this drama going on, I find myself amused at the spectacle. I hate seeing him pissy, but he’s so damn cute when he’s irritated, especially when his shorts are barely hanging on to his body.

“Can’t sleep?” I mutter.

“You’re driving me to drink, woman,” Luke grumbles as he walks past me without looking at me.

My heart sinks, “What?”

I don’t care if he drinks, but the last thing I want to do is be the driving force behind him becoming a three o’clock in the morning alcoholic.

“Chamomile,” Luke grunts before he makes it into the kitchen.

I arch an eyebrow, “Huh?”

He turns back and stares at me, seriousness etched across his gorgeous face, “You’re driving me to drink chamomile.”

Luke, still with a serious expression, winks at me before turning back to go into the kitchen. A giggle escapes my lips. It’s probably the first time I’ve truly flat out giggled in weeks and it feels so good.

Okay, so maybe the night isn’t completely hellish…

Sighing, I allow myself to relax a little. Drowsiness finally begins to take hold of my body. For a moment, my mind tries to convince me to ignore my tired, aching body, and to get on with my work. I nearly convince myself to follow through. Just as my hands begin to reach for the keyboard, a coffee mug clangs down beside the keyboard. The smell of chamomile invades my nostrils.

I turn to look up at Luke, but he doesn’t say anything. Taking a sip out of his own drink, he turns and walks back to the bedroom, leaving me with the sight of his adorable ass and the sexy way his pants hang from his hips. Biting my lip, I contemplate my next move.

It’s obvious that Luke is a little put out, and I want to do something to help rectify the situation. My sex yearns to pleasure him, yet I know I’m just not ready for that. Still, there must be other measures I can take to bring him some comfort without me needing to spread my legs for him.

Standing up, I grab the warm mug and take a sip. The tantalizing flavors of chamomile, lemon, and honey invade my mouth. Luke even took the time to make my tea exactly how I like it. As the warmth of the drink slides down my throat, I have an epiphany. I know exactly what I can do to bring a bit of pleasure to my Luke. A smile eases its way across my lips.

I walk into the kitchen and open the freezer door. Cracking a few cubes of ice into a bowl, I shut the freezer and walk towards the bedroom.

The door is opened slightly, so I use my hip to pump it open enough for me to slip inside. Luke is lying in bed, naked, sipping his tea while leafing through one of his fitness magazines. His reading glasses are perched adorably against his nose, making him look a little older, more mature. He doesn’t look up at me, but continues reading. I’ve noticed that this is how Luke deals with irritation, he ignores me until he gets over it.

Walking up beside him, I set my mug down on the end table by the bed. He still doesn’t look up, but continues to read. I grin. He likes to play as if he’s just as stubborn as I am, but I know he’ll give in the moment he notices what I have planned.

I reach over and grasp the mug that’s in his hand and gently tug it out of his grasp careful not to spill any of the hot liquid on his beautiful body. Luke finally looks up with an arched eyebrow. Seeing my muscle bound hunk in reading glasses is almost too much for my sex deprived vagina to handle, but I remain focused on the task at hand. I place his mug on the table beside mine and reach for his magazine.