Page 13 of King of Pain

Stepping into the dark interior, I close the door and bolt it behind me. Peeking through the curtain, I watch the Fit back out of the parking spot and drive away.

What will I do if he doesn’t come back?

Swallowing down a lump, I head into the bathroom as I try to decide. I look in the mirror to see dark circles under my eyes. My hair isn’t as bad as I thought. I take several deep breaths as I think.

If Luke doesn’t come back, I’ll go to the front desk and call Mark. He’s had the same number for the last fifteen years. And he’s the only man I’ve ever been able to rely on. He’d come get me, I’m sure of it.

I could hole up at a Vegas hotel while I start my internship. Vincent and Vigo picked me up at my shithole apartment so I don’t think I can go back there. Which totally sucks. It was so hard to find a place that cheap, but it’s a problem for later.

These thoughts help calm me as I start the shower. The towels are the size of postage stamps and tiles are missing from the wall, but the tub is clean.

I stick my hand under the spray, the water is even hot.

I strip off my bathrobe and dress, plucking the contacts from my eyes. I can’t see distance without them, but I just can’t wear them anymore. At home I have glasses…

With a sigh, I step into the spray. The shampoo and conditioner are of terrible quality but they get the job done, and I get out a half hour later realizing that I feel way more human.

I wrap one of the towels around me, but it barely covers my ass, and I try to tuck one end into my cleavage.

If there is one asset I’ve always had, it’s boobs. The towel barely tucks around them.

I finger-comb my hair, knowing it’s not going to do me any favors later. I’m going to look even more like a sewer rat.

In an attempt to help, I go into the bathroom and break out the blow dryer.

My hair is mostly straight, but I’ve got a wave here or there that needs to be ironed out. Or diffused to be curly.

A noise makes me turn off the dryer.

Was that a knock?

Creeping across the room, I peek through the closed blind. Luke stands at the door, his face set in hard lines.

Relief makes me limp as I unlock the deadbolt and open the door, a wide smile on my face. I’m so happy to see him. I had a plan, but I’m so glad he’s back.

He blinks for one second, and then his eyes skate down my body, the tiny towel all that’s covering me.

I feel the flood of heat in my cheeks as he steps inside, two bags in his injured hand, three in the other. He kicks it closed and sets down the bags, locking the door again.

Then he turns to me, hooking my waist and pulling me up against his chest. “That’s quite the greeting, love.”

I grab his biceps, turning my face to the side. “Sorry. I didn’t have anything else to wear.”

But my embarrassment is rapidly evaporating, that ache starting to pulse between my legs again.

His nose brushes my neck, just below my ear. “No apology needed.”

“You came back.”

“I told you I would.”

I feel myself melting into him. I should put on clothes. “Did you um…bring me anything to wear?”

“This towel is working just fine,” he murmurs into my skin, the deep vibration of his voice humming through me.

“I…we…” I swallow down a lump. We’re both exhausted, we’re being chased. This is hardly the time for a hook up, but even thinking the wordshook uphas my nipples tightening and I know he feels it the way he smiles against my skin.

“I brought you clothes. And food too.” His hand at the small of my back runs down over my ass, brushing the bare skin at the back of my thigh. I gasp in a small breath, the touch of his fingers causing a shower of tingles to pulse through me.

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