Page 25 of Indebted

Chapter Eleven – Luca

Oh. Fuck.

At first, I don’t know where I am. This isn’t my bedroom. This isn’t my bed. The light coming through the windows is at the wrong angle, because the windows are facing the wrong side of the house. This isn’t what I’m used to, in other words.

After that first split second of confusion, everything becomes clear. I’ve never been somebody who takes a long time to wake up—something my mother used to tease me about all the time. I could go from being sound asleep to wide awake and having a full-blown conversation in the blink of an eye. She’d say I was always too worried I would miss something to let myself sleep very deeply.

Nowadays, I’m more concerned with being prepared for an emergency. There’s no telling when something will go to shit and I’ll be needed to step in and do something about it.

I sure as hell slept deeply last night, though, didn’t I? I never meant to stay with her all night. It would have been cruel to leave her in the condition she was in. That’s all.

Even more than that. She made me feel roughly two inches tall. I assumed she didn’t think of me as anything more than the bastard who kept her captive. I didn’t think she actually cared whether or not I came to see her. I told myself I was the last person she’d want to see—a bullshit rationalization, of course, but it was what I needed to tell myself if I was going to keep from going to her.

Now we’re spooning. Funny how that happens. I’m not sure when we shifted positions in the night, but we ended up curled around each other, my arm draped over her hip and the other under her head. I’m afraid to move a muscle, knowing I’ll wake her if I do. She needs her rest. She deserves it.

Besides, I wouldn’t know what to say If I woke her up. She said a lot of things last night that made me look at myself from a different angle. I can’t pretend I liked what I saw.

I can’t pretend any more than I can pretend waking up with her in my arms is a hassle. It’s anything but. Under different circumstances, I might even be happy. I might feel contented.

Who am I kidding? I don’t deserve to feel either of those things, especially not when she’s involved. I’ve given her nothing but pain. I can’t even imagine why she wanted to have me in bed with her. How could I be the one to provide comfort?

There’s still a very faint discoloration around her throat. From a distance it might not be visible, but up close it’s all I can see. I’m almost overwhelmed by the impulse to lean in and kiss that patch of skin. I would if I thought it would make any difference. I can’t make sense of the way she makes me feel.

I only know this is the second time in my life I’ve wished I could turn back the clock. I would do so many things differently when it comes to her. Even if it meant never knowing her, I would live with it. Because it would mean sparing her everything I’ve put her through.

Right now, I can’t even remember why it ever seemed like a good idea to accept her as payment for what her ex-boyfriend did. It’s easy to do my job when the human capital involved is only theoretical. That’s why it’s a good idea to not get close to the people working for and under me. How could I ask them to do dangerous, unsavory things once they become people—real, live, thinking and feeling people? One more thing my father never had time to explain. One more lesson I had to learn the hard way.

She stirs, groaning softly. The satin pajamas she wears make her slide around. She also slides against me, which is both enjoyable and unfortunate thanks to the morning wood already jutting out in front of me. Her moving has the effect of making me harden even more, and I can barely hold back a groan of mixed dismay and longing.

Suddenly she stiffens and gasps softly. “What… Oh, no, I’m sorry.”

“Sorry for what?” I whisper. I’m sorry she’s awake since it means I have to let her go, but then I don’t deserve the comfort and pleasure of having her in my arms.

“I sort of trapped you here, didn’t I?” She moves again, this time to roll onto her back and move away from me a little. Unfortunately, we’re slightly twisted up in the sheets, so that plus the slippery nature of her pajamas leaves her fumbling around and brushing up against my hard-on.

“You didn’t trap me,” I grit out. God, give me strength. I would get out of bed, but that would mean showing off my unfortunate, raging erection. If these were any other circumstances, I would put it to good use. But even I’m not such a heartless bastard that I would try to do that to her now. Not so soon after what happened. I can’t even bring myself to think about it. Whenever I do, all I can imagine is her screams.

I settle for pulling my hips back to keep from rubbing up against her. I don’t think she notices, anyway. “I know you didn’t want to stay.”

“I would have gotten up if I felt it was that important. Give yourself a break. Besides, I slept well. Maybe there’s something to be said for sharing a bed with someone.”

She wears a disbelieving little smile when she turns to me. “You’re not used to sleeping with other people?”

“You mean the actual act of slumber? No. I can count on one hand the number of times I’ve done it.”

“Really?”

I wouldn’t have said anything if I thought she would latch on like this. “Is that such a big deal?”

“No.” The way she frowns tells another story. When I raise an eyebrow, waiting for more, she adds, “It’s surprising. I figured you would always have a new woman in your bed. Isn’t that, like, one of the perks of the job? You must have women falling all over you all the time.”

“There’s a difference between having them fall over me and letting that lead to spending the whole night together.”

For some reason, she giggles before covering her mouth with one hand. “Sorry. I’m not laughing at you.”

“Then why did you laugh?”

“I don’t know. Honestly, I don’t.” She now rolls onto her other side so she can face me, then props her head up on one bent arm. “It was a surprised laugh, not a funny-ha-ha laugh. You’re a surprising person, I guess. You find ways to surprise me all the time.”

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