Luke interrupted me. “We’re going to a hotel.”

Thank you God.

* * * * *

Luke checked us into the kickass, cool-as-shit Hotel Monaco in Downtown Denver. I’d never stayed there but any hotel that had “The John Lennon Suite” and “The Grace Slick Suite” and “The Miles Davis Suite” had to be kickass, cool-as-shit, and it was.

Then we went to bed.

We were lying side by side in each other’s arms. Luke was quiet, likely deciding how to dispose of Noah’s body once he killed him.

“Luke?” I called.

One of his hands slid up my back under my tee. He’d located the newly-washed Triumph tee for me and I was wearing it. This I found incredibly sweet but I was trying not to dwell on it.

“Yeah, babe,” he answered.

I tilted my head back to look at his blurry, shadowy face. “Will you make love to me?” I asked in a small voice.

Don’t ask me why I asked this. I just knew, somewhere deep, I needed it.

“Ava, I’m thinkin’ that’s not a good thing,” he replied softly. “Right now, sleep is a good thing.”

I found his answer both disappointing and (probably hysterically) very alarming.

“Okay.” My voice was even smaller.

There was a beat of silence then Luke muttered, “Shit.” He rolled into me and his hand came up to the healthy side of my face. “This doesn’t bode well for my future,” he told me.

“What?”

“My inability to say no to you,” he said before touching his mouth to mine and his hand slid slowly down my neck, my side, my hip and then over my bottom.

“You say no to me all the time,” I told him, now feeling happy in that somewhere deep down inside. I was happy that he was touching me, holding me, kissing me, taking care of me and he didn’t find me dirty and repulsive.

“When have I said no to you?” Luke asked my neck where his lips had moved.

“You don’t say no, as such. You just haul me around until I’m where you want, doing what you want.”

I felt his mouth move and knew he was smiling against my neck. His hand cupped my ass and he pulled me against him but he didn’t respond.

I didn’t mind. I wrapped my arms around him and held on tight.

Then he started to make love to me and it was exactly that, slow and sweet and absolutely perfect. I forgot about everything: being taped in my basement in the pitch dark and Noah touching me while Luke was in the house.

It was perfect until Luke’s hand moved down my belly and between my legs. His fingers hit the target but instead of feeling the usual jolt of pure goodness, my body froze and I wrapped my hand around his wrist and pulled it away.

“No,” I whispered, my body came unfrozen and all of a sudden I was shaking and not the good kind of shaking. “I’m sorry. I was wrong. I can’t.”

I tried to move away, feeling like an idiot, but Luke’s hand pulled free of mine. He rolled off me and held me close.

“Ava, hold on to me.”

His voice was rough but he didn’t sound angry that I stopped the action when it was really getting good.

“I can’t,” I told him. “I need –”

“Quiet, beautiful, just hold on.”

I did as I was told. I felt him hard against my belly and felt like a huge dork because I was the one who started it.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered and I was. I was so sorry that my voice broke in the middle of saying it.

“Quiet,” he replied softly.

“I got you all worked up and –”

“Babe, I’ll survive.”

“Luke.”

“Ava, I’m good. Just be quiet.”

I went quiet.

We lay there for awhile, silent, holding on. The shakes left me and I eventually felt nothing in the world, nothing but our bed at Hotel Monaco, Luke and me in it.

Then out of nowhere something hit me, a flashback.

Not of Noah beating me up and touching me where I didn’t want him to, but a flashback of Luke. It was a flashback of when Luke took me for a ride on his new motorcycle when he was seventeen and I was thirteen.

His Mom wasn’t happy about the motorcycle but she kept this to herself (outside of telling my Mom). His Dad hated it and he didn’t keep it to himself. As usual he tore into Luke about it.

I loved the motorcycle and after I heard Luke have a rip roarin’ with his Dad and Luke slammed out of the house heading to the garage, I ran over and caught him. In my thirteen-year-old-girl usual blathering, dorky way, I told Luke I loved his motorcycle and I told him exactly how much.

When I was done, Luke smiled at me, the dark look fading from his face. I’d always loved it when I used to do that for him. It didn’t happen a lot, but it happened. Then he told me to hop on and I was so excited I did, without even thinking twice.

We rode for at least an hour and I thought I’d never forget that ride.

When we got home they were waiting for us in Luke’s driveway, Mr. Stark and my Mom. Luke’s Dad yelled at him for taking a thirteen year old out on a motorcycle without asking. My Mom yelled at him because she was a bitch.

Calm as could be (something that always pissed Luke’s Dad off, I knew not because I saw it but because I heard Mrs. Stark tell my Mom about it), Luke just said to his Dad, “I would never let anything happen to Ava.” Then he turned to me, touched my nose and said using The Voice, “Precious cargo.”

Oh… my… God.

Why hadn’t I remembered that? How could I ever forget that?

Finally, realization dawned.

I belonged to Luke. I was Luke’s woman.

Hell, I had probably been born to be Luke’s woman (if you believed that kind of shit).

I wasn’t going to St. Croix and I didn’t care about Jules and Roxie and Luke trying it on with them. Just like Daisy said, I was using that as an excuse to guard my heart.

Crapity, crap, crap, crap.

Not only that, Luke didn’t go gonzo about Noah probably because I asked him not to. He took me to a hotel when I freaked out at his loft. He made sure I had the Triumph tee. Lastly, he didn’t have a hissy fit when I stopped the festivities right when they were getting to the point of no return and held me, just like I needed.

So, not only did I belong to Luke, he was most definitely a Good Guy.

The warm melty feeling in my stomach could no longer be denied.

Shit.

This time my hand slid down his belly and my fingers wrapped around him.

He sucked in breath then said, “Ava.”