Spent - Part Three (Bad Boy Fighter Book 3)
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Authors: Elise Holland
SPENT
Part Three
Elise Holland
Copyright © 2015 by Elise Holland
This book is a fiction production. All characters, businesses or organizations appearing in this work are fictitious, of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any mechanical or electronic means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the publisher or author, except in the case of a reviewer, who may quote brief passages within the boundaries of fair use, in a review.
First Printing - October 2015
Special Thanks To Danie Newcomb, Alex and Lisa Moss and all my readers. Without your valuable input and support, this series would have never have become a reality.
And to my little Olive for being so patient with me while I worked on finishing this series, I love you so much. Thank you for reminding me how it feels to look at the world with wonder.
My phone vibrates in my back pocket for what seems like the hundredth time today. I ignore it, as I continue along my path towards what will be my new home, a box containing half of all the clothes I own, straining in my arms. Luke is behind me, carrying a stack of three boxes as if they weighed nothing.
I pretend like my phone isn’t there. The last time I'd told Luke that my father was still calling me, he said he'd liked to have tossed my phone out of the window, even though we were driving. Both of us are a little low in the money department after getting our new house, and I can’t exactly afford a new one at the moment.
My last words to him still echo through my mind like a drum in a cavern. I could hardly speak, but I'd managed to scream with surprising force the moment I'd seen my father enter the hospital room.
Get out!
The look on his face as he processed the intensity of those words still haunt me. He looked affronted, even a little frightened; a characteristic I've never seen on that man before.
My step dad Vince was quick to act on the hesitation, and escort him out, my mother following behind him, backing up my outburst with a string of obscenities, some I didn’t even know existed.
I'd started shaking and crying hysterically, with Luke and Cameron both at my side trying to soothe me. Eventually, I'd drifted off to sleep, with tears still settling on my cheeks. Little did I know, that would only be the first of many panic attacks still to come.
After I was discharged from the hospital, the calls began. At least twice a day, sometimes more. His voice messages are all about the same.
Forgive me, mija… Just one more chance…
I’ve just stopped listening to them. I’ll probably go in on Monday and have the phone company change my number.
I set down the box inside my new home just as my phone stops vibrating. Our new place is a little less convenient, a few miles away from campus, but on the plus side it’s much larger than either of our other old places. It’s nothing fancy, but it’s a home for Luke and I to share together.
A slight pain moves through my backside as I rise back up, causing me to wince before I can catch myself. Luke is by my side in an instant, having hastily discarded his boxes of kitchen stuff, sending them to the ground with a loud thunk. I grimace, hoping that he didn’t break anything.
“Are you okay, baby?” He asks as he pulls me gently against him, his large hands softly rubbing my back.
His massages have been the only thing keeping my body going the past few weeks since I was discharged from the hospital. Closing my eyes, a soft moan escapes my lips as my aching body absorbs the sensation of his sensual touch. These fleeting touches have also been about all I can handle sexually since Derrick's assault. Thankfully Luke hasn’t pushed me on the subject.
“I think you might have broken something,” I mutter, savoring his touch.
Luke drops his hands away from me, as if I’ve burst into flames suddenly, “I’m so sorry. Did I squeeze you too hard?”
My eyes flutter open to lock onto his. The expression on his face makes me giggle. Even though I know he’s genuinely worried that he somehow hurt me, his petrified look is rather adorable.
“No, silly. I meant in the boxes,” I pull his arms back around my body, “Keep rubbing.”
Luke’s expression immediately turns into a grin, soft, yet seductive. How one man can turn from adorable to downright, ‘fuck me as hard as you can’ sexy is beyond me, but Luke can do it in a matter of seconds. Despite the ache in my back, my sex immediately begins to dampen with desire, longing for something hard from Luke, to thrust itself within it.
“Perhaps there’s somewhere else on you I can rub,” Luke whispers as he leans in to kiss me.
Playfully, I move my lips just as he’s about to touch them, causing his kiss to plant itself against my cheek instead.
“Maybe after we finish unloading everything.”
Luke groans, “Fine, but I’m going to finish bringing in the rest myself. I want you relaxing on the couch.”
My eyes narrow, “I’m perfectly capable of moving boxes, too.”
“I’m not going to let you intentionally hurt yourself. You’re not healed yet,” Luke stares at me intently. I can tell he’s not about to back down, but neither am I.
“Luke, I’ve been doing what you asked. I’ve only been picking up the lighter boxes, and I’ve been taking breaks every 20 minutes. My back was only hurting because I bent over funny instead of bending my knees like a good girl.”
Luke arches an eyebrow at me, his look telling me he’s not buying any of this.
I sigh persistently, “Honestly, Luke, I’m fine,” I place my hand on him, slowly trailing my fingers up along his firm forearm. His muscles immediately tighten, but the hard lines along his face soften, telling me he’s responding to my touch.
Luke closes his eyes, “Fine,” he lets out a sigh, and his eyes open to reveal their soft hazel hue that completely mesmerize me, “But I’m going to be watching you closely. I don’t want you back in the hospital.”
“Yes sir,” I grumble.
Tenderly, Luke places his fingers against my chin, tilting my head up so that I’m looking directly at him, “I love you, you feisty woman.”
The words are still so new to me, but I savor each and every one as they roll off of his tongue, “I love you, too.”
Having come so close to facing death for the first time in my life, I’ve learned to appreciate the ones I love. I try my best to tell Luke regularly that I love him, along with showing him. It’s what I need right now. I need to love and to feel love. My love for him helped keep me alive and I want Luke to know that.
Hand in hand, Luke and I make our way back out to the rented moving truck. Looking at the abundance of stuff within the truck, I feel sort of ashamed. Nearly everything belongs to me. Luke had only a small portion of things to move. I never realized just how much I owned until we began packing it all.
I'd like to avoid one day ending up on an episode of "Hoarders", so I make a mental note to try and organize a garage sale once we’re settled into the house.
Assessing the boxes, I try to determine which one would be a small enough one for me to carry without causing Luke to have a total freak out. Behind me, Luke begins stacking boxes on top of one another. I can only assume he’s going to show off again by lifting three at once. His new trainer would have a fit if he saw Luke moving all of my stuff like this.
Bending over, I pick up a box labeled ‘Jewelry Box’. It looks innocent enough for me to carry. The moment the weight of the box is on my back, I nearly collapse from the shooting pain that ricochets across my ribs.
“Dammit Tasha,” Luke is by my side before I have a chance to regain my composure, “That’s it, you’re done. Get inside the house.”
Between the pain and Luke’s bossiness, I’ve had enough for one day.
“I’m fine, Richards,” I say through gritted teeth, “Leave me alone.”
“Stop torturing yourself,” Luke wraps his arms around me and gently tries to pull me away from the truck.
Before the rational side of me can tell me to stop, I spin around on my heel and smack Luke across the arm. My hands fly up to my mouth as my eyes widen in horror. I feel like shit, but that’s no excuse for hitting him.
A deliciously naughty flame flashes across Luke’s hazel eyes, despite his face remaining impassive, “I’m going to have to punish you for that one, Natasha.”
I don’t know if it’s a combination of the back pain and the surge of passion and anger, but the next thing I know, I’m on my knees, shaking and crying my eyes out. Something about the way Luke looked at me brought on some unhealed trauma that makes me feel weak.
“Baby, what’s wrong?” His panicked tone makes me cry even harder.
I feel his arm wrap around me, but I shrug him off. Touching me when I’m like this makes me feel fragile and vulnerable, and I’m already feeling enough of that at this moment. Luke obliges and moves away from me, choosing to squat down on the ground beside me while I weep.
“I’m sorry,” I mumble between tears, “I’m so sorry.”
“Can I hold you?” Luke whispers, easing a little closer to me.
I shake my head vigorously, causing Luke to move away a little further.
“You can still get out,” I mutter between sobs.
“Of what?”
“This. Me.”
“Never,” Luke says, without hesitation.
“I’m a mess,” My sobbing calms down enough for me to finally see Luke clearly. He’s staring at me, concern etched across his handsome face, prematurely aging him, I’m sure.
“I’m not leaving, Tasha.”
My hand moves to the necklace hanging from my neck. Luke gave it to me the day I was discharged from the hospital. It nearly gave Cameron a heart attack when she'd seen the box, because she thought it was a ring. My thumb brushes across the words Luke had etched into the silver heart.
“Forever and always,” Luke whispers, “I mean it.”
“I know you do,” I mutter between sniffles.
“Then stop telling me I can leave. I know what I can do and I’ve made my choice.”
“I don’t know if I’ll ever get better,” I say barely above a whisper.
It's been my deepest fear since the attack, that I won’t get better and Luke will be stubborn enough to stick it out with a crazy person. He deserves better than someone who becomes a crying lunatic whenever her boyfriend gives her a ‘lets go to the bedroom’ look.
Luke shuffles closer to me, tentatively placing his hand on mine, “You’ll get through this, Tash. And I’ll be by your side the entire way.”
I move into Luke, to his surprise, and nestle my head against his chest, “Lets take a break and go cuddle.”
Luke plants a soft kiss on the top of my head as he wraps his arms around me, “That sounds like a great idea.”
As if I were weightless, Luke picks me up in one fell swoop. Balancing me against his chest, he uses one of his hands to close the back end of the truck. I smile and nuzzle my nose against his chest. My tears stain the cotton, but he doesn’t seem to care. It’s not the first time since my discharge that I’ve made him look like he just won a wet T-shirt contest, and it probably won’t be the last.
