Luke's Absolution (The Colloway Brothers Book 3) (18 page)

Lifting one leg, he wraps it around his thigh and gently pushes inside. This time, there’s no screaming and no frantic clawing. This time, there’s only reverent words and sweet, slow but passionate lovemaking.

Thirty minutes later, we drop exhausted and clean into Luke’s bed. Within only minutes, I fall asleep against the man I love, contented and truly happy for the first time in a very, very long time, wondering why it took me so damn long to let myself believe in him, yet still carrying that little grain of worry that he’ll break my heart.

“
I
didn’t realize
you had a car, too. I mean I saw this beauty sitting in the lot and guess I should have known it belonged to you.”

I look over and grin in response. We’re driving down I94 in my black Audi RS7, heading to Detroit for Easter weekend. It’s taken me the last two nights to convince Addy to drive together. We’re going to the same damn place, for fuck’s sake, but her stubborn-ass self makes things more difficult than they need to be.

It didn’t take me long to figure out how to persuade her to see things my way, though and yes, it’s exactly what you’re thinking. It’s incredible how pliable a woman, particularly Addy, becomes after you’ve sated her with several orgasms. And it’s not a hardship either, let me tell you.

“I thought it was supposed to be nice this weekend. We could have taken your bike.”

My laughter fills the car. “Then you should have packed a smaller bag, fireball. There’s no way that damn thing would have fit in the saddlebag.”

Besides, if I’d taken the bike, I couldn’t have spent four hours looking at her beautiful face. Since she finally stopped denying that we have something real here, we’ve been nearly inseparable these last couple of weeks, and with every passing day, I fall into her even more.

“It’s not that big.”

“Not that big? I thought maybe you’d decided to move out, you packed so much damn stuff.”

“Hey. Don’t hate. A girl needs options.”

“It’s two fucking days, Addy. I’m quite sure your suitcase weighs even more than the airline allowance of fifty pounds. I’m not sure how you’re going to make it to the Caribbean without sending clothes ahead.”

“Whatever,” she grumbles, although I can tell it’s not in anger.

“I want you to come to my mom’s for dinner Sunday.”

This has been another bone of contention for us over the past few days. Addy refuses to come to my house for Easter, trying to use the lame excuse she doesn’t want to intrude, but I know there’s more to it than that.

She hasn’t told her family about us yet. I know for a fact Eric will not take this little bombshell well, but he can piss off. I don’t care how upset he gets or what kind of hissy fit he throws,
nothing
will keep me from my color now that I have her.

Eric’s fiercely protective of his sister, just like her father is, so she wants to do this her own obstinate way. That brings me to another smoldering problem: she refuses to stay with me at my mom’s, so I have to spend the next two nights away from her. Both my pride and my cock are less than happy about that development.

“Luke, we’ve talked about this.”

“Yes, and I don’t like your answer.”

“You don’t have to like it. You just have to accept it.”

I am a stubborn asshole sometimes. I admit that. But my spitfire surpasses me in the obstinate department tenfold. I’ve quickly learned when I can’t sex her into seeing things my way, a little
persuasion,
you might say, gets me what I want more often than not. I didn’t live this long without having trapdoors buried all over the fucking place. “Baby, I want to spend our first Easter together,” I coax.

She softens.
Bingo
.

“So do I, but…”

“Just think about it, okay? You’re mine and I want everyone to know it.” I bring her open palm to my lips, pressing a kiss in the center.

“Okay.”

Her phone rings. I don’t miss the guilty glance she throws my way when she fishes it out of her purse and silences it before she tries to throw it back in. I’m faster though, grabbing it from her fingers.

I look at the caller ID to see it’s the camera man. My blood seethes black.

“Answer it,” I grit.

“Luke, stop.”

“Answer. It.” Instead of giving her an option, I press the receive button and hand her the phone.

She throws daggers my way before answering sweetly. I can only hear her part of the conversation, but none of the words are “
don’t call me again because I’m fucking taken
,” which, as far as I’m concerned, should have been the first and last words out of her mouth.

“Hi. Good. You?

“Headed to Detroit.

“What are you doing?

“Uh…” I can tell by the hesitation and the quick look she gives me exactly what the man who’s trying to steal my girl just said. I grab the phone out of her hands, against her screeching protests.
Shit, that hurt
. I’m going to be deaf by the time I’m forty if she keeps that up.

Pinning her wrists together with one of my hands, I use the other to slide the phone between my cheek and shoulder, before taking the wheel again.

“Cooper, right?”

“Uh, yeah. Who’s this?” he asks hesitantly. He knows exactly who the fuck this is. I raise my voice above Addy’s who is howling like a banshee in the background.

“Look, Cooper, I think there’s been a misunderstanding about Addy’s availability.”

“Her availability?” I don’t miss the fact that his voice steeled. Can’t say I blame the guy. He knows he’s just lost out on the best thing to walk into his life.

“Yes, her availability. As in…she’s not.” Cocksucker.

Silence. He’s silent for so long, I almost hang up on the asshole. Then he says, “Let me talk to her. I want to be sure she’s okay.”

Without responding, I hand the phone back to Addy, who rips it out of my hand. She spends the next couple of minutes assuring
Cooper
she’s fine and that,
yes
, we’re together, before disconnecting the call.

“You’re an ass,” she spits, throwing her phone back in her purse.

“You’re mine.”

“Cooper’s a nice guy. He deserved better than that.”

“He wants to fuck you. He’s damned lucky that happened over the phone or I would be headed to the pen for second-degree murder. Be happy I was so congenial.”

“Congenial?” she screeches loudly. I touch my ear, testing for wetness.

“Yes, congenial.” There were a whole bunch of other choice words I could have spewed, but out of respect for Addy, I held my tongue.

“You’re infuriating.”

“Everyone has to excel at something, sweetheart.”

Silence descends; it’s not uncomfortable, at least not for me. She can be put out all she wants, but if the tables were turned and a woman who wanted to fuck
me
was calling, she’d have plenty to say and I can guarantee you my hellcat would be less than cordial.

Addy turns on the radio to some pop station. I much prefer alternative or rock music, like Five Finger Death Punch, but when I was growing up, shotgun always got to choose the station. I’d let her anyway no matter where she was sitting.

She looks out the passenger side window, giving me both the back of her head and the silent treatment. It’s hard to stifle my laugh, but I manage. After a while, she begins to hum softly to the radio and half an hour later, when she starts singing the acidic words to “Black Widow” in my direction, I know everything is okay. I hold in my smile for fear of setting her off again. Oh…and having my balls twisted. She tried that last week.

When the song’s over, she turns off the radio and shifts in her seat to face me, pulling her left foot up to her chin. Jesus, that woman is flexible, as she’s proven many times over the past couple of weeks.

“What’s the tattoo on your side say?”

I sigh internally, not wanting to make her mad again. Quite frankly, I’m surprised it’s taken her this long to ask. I’ve been waiting. But I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised she chose to do it in the car while we’re driving seventy-five down the highway. I’m the definition of a captive audience right now.

I think about how I want to answer her question without revealing too much. My ink is intensely personal; each and every one has special meaning to me and me alone. They’re like a badge of honor. A remembrance of who I am, who I was. Remember earlier when I said I was an open book? Well, I may have exaggerated a bit. My book’s not fucking open to the pages that I’ve superglued together so no one sees that part of my life, especially the woman I love.

“It’s a war cry.”

“That’s what it says? It’s a war cry?”

“Pretty much.”

“Pretty much or exactly?”

“Pretty much.”

You would think with a vague answer like that, Addy would get the hint, but
nooo
. I’ve come to the conclusion that “no” isn’t in her vocabulary. I should rephrase. It’s in
her
vocabulary; she just doesn’t hear it when it’s spoken
to
her.

“What do the seagulls represent?”

I bark a laugh. “I like birds.”

“And the horse and demon?”

“I like the wind in my hair.”

“Mmm. What about the crosses?”

I sigh. “I grew up Catholic.” The truest answer I’ve given yet in her dissecting interrogation, but she already knows this because she attended church with me last Saturday night.

Then she surprises me by asking, “Why no color?”

Addy’s incredibly perceptive and I think that’s one of the reasons I am so drawn to her. No one has ever gotten me like she has. I reach across the console, grab her hand, and bring it to my lips. “I already told you.
You’re
my color, Addy.”

Her eyes sparkle and a slight smile turns her beautiful lips.

“Why the third degree on my ink, babe?”

“Why the evasion?”

I release her hand as an uncomfortable hush falls like a wet blanket. I can’t tell Addy about my ink without revealing more than I want her to know and I never want Addy to be exposed to the darkest parts of me. The parts of me
I
don’t even like.

“I know more than you think I do, you know.”

“Dog with a bone,”
I mutter under my breath. “Yeah. How’s that?” I keep my focus out the front windshield, pretending that I’m paying attention to the road. I’m not.

“Well, for one, I know every tattoo you have is personal. They mean something to you.”

“All ink is personal, sweetheart. Try again.”

She sighs lightly and lays her head against the headrest. Out of my peripheral, I see she’s chewing on her bottom lip. I’ve discovered she only does that when she’s nervous or deep in thought.

I’m mentally bracing myself for a verbal spar, so her touch is completely unexpected. Electricity jolts through me as she lightly traces the scripted word
Faith
that sits underneath the crown on my right bicep. Next, she slowly outlines the sunbeams and puffy cumulous clouds that peek out from under my sleeve, pushing it up so she can get to all of it.

She leans over the console and I jerk, sucking in a sharp breath when her lips meet my neck. Her tongue darts out, trailing a line up to my ear where she sucks the skin underneath. Then she surprises me by tugging on my tee, trying to remove it.

“Fuck, Addy. What are you doing?”

“I want to touch you. Feel you.” Her hand travels down my stomach and cups my stone-cold-hard cock with firm intent. “Please,” she murmurs between kisses.

What fucking idiot is going to deny his sweetly begging woman that request?
Not this one, that’s for damn sure.

I help her take off my shirt, careful to keep a hand on the wheel at all times. She throws it in the back and then her mouth is back on me, her tongue now tracing the crisp beams of light down my shoulder while her fingers skitter over the crosses on my right pec.

“Addy,” I groan.
Sweet Jesus, I want her.

I mourn the loss of her mouth when she leans back and starts quietly analyzing me. “I know that you’re faithful. It centers you, grounds you. I think you feel you need absolution for something in your past.”

My breathing picks up and my heart pounds as she moves to outline the hourglass on my forearm. “A dove represents peace or innocence and the obvious representation of the hourglass is the passage of time, but I think it means more to you than that. Patience, maybe.”

Dancing down my abdomen, her fingers feather across my seagulls and she continues, undaunted.

“You want personal freedom but you think due to life’s circumstances, you can’t have it or don’t deserve it.”

“Addy,” I breathe softly, now stroking her dark locks with my free hand.

Reaching across to my left shoulder, she continues, whispering, “As far as the wild mare and hooded monster go, I think you’re the horse. You’re trying to outrun your demons, but you feel like you can’t ever get them off your back. You hope the sunlight breaking through the clouds banishes them to the shadows. I can see them lurking in the corners, behind your crown on the other arm.”

My mind is buzzing when she finally grazes over my etching. She leans into my line of sight so she can snare my eyes, which are darting between her and the road. “As far as the decorations on your back, I don’t know what they mean yet. I haven’t had a chance to study them enough, but I hope someday you’ll feel you can trust me with what the words mean. Regardless of what you think, Luke, nothing you tell me about your past can change the way I feel about you.”

I swallow hard. She’s been so spot-fucking-on with every insightful observation, it’s unnerving. She can see right through me. Through all the masks I wear, hiding myself from the world. If it’s even possible, I just fell more in love with this woman.