Night shifts black

“Can I get you anything? You want a drink or something?”

He’s asking me, but I think I’m just an excuse for him to fill his own glass. I nod to let him complete his journey to the bar. He removes an expensive crystal glass from a tray and grabs a bottle.

“Whiskey, ok? I can send for wine or something if that’s better.”

I shake my head. I’ve actually never sipped whiskey before, but I’m not here to drink and don’t want to waste time on alcohol procurement.

“Whiskey is great, thanks.”

I wonder if he’ll pull out cigars next, but my smile fades when I notice how much empty space is in the bottle. His glass is already full, and he takes a swig from it as he walks toward me to hand me mine. I had wondered since the day we met what he did with the other twenty-three hours, and I think I just found out. My heart breaks.

“I’m sorry for all of this, but I’m not ready to go back there.”

“To Jemma’s?”

He nods. “Casey was right. I don’t belong there.”

I’m not sure what he means by that, but I’m also not sure how to ask for clarification.

He laughs bitterly to himself. “You must think I’m a nut job.”

I watch him closely before I respond, trying to understand the expression on his face. It’s a mix between wry humor and self-hatred.

“It wasn’t an insurance settlement,” I blurt suddenly.

He looks at me. Most people would ask a question then. “What wasn’t?” “What do you mean?” but Luke doesn’t. He knows what I’m talking about. He has secrets so he remembers mine.

I study the dark liquid in my glass. I surprise myself by taking a giant swallow. It burns as it goes down, and I almost gasp and cough. I force it away, not wanting Luke to think I’m not like him, because I am in more ways than he can imagine.

I bite my lip and let the alcohol settle, rumbling in my empty stomach, still burning. I suddenly realize that we have hard liquor in our hands at ten in the morning. He still hasn’t said a word, and when I glance at his face, I see that he doesn’t intend to. I have the floor if I want it. Only if.

I stare back at my drink. “The reason I’m here, my money, it wasn’t insurance. It was a different kind of settlement.”

I meet his eyes. They’re deep again, probing into me this time. “I was one of three employees assaulted by the owner of the grocery store where I worked.” I look away. I’m still not sure it’s ok to admit this part. “We didn’t have enough evidence to prove it beyond a reasonable doubt, but we had enough to make his life miserable with a lawsuit, so he settled.”

I feel the burn of tears somewhere deep inside of me, rising up into the open wound that I thought had scabbed over.

“My father was the one who pushed for me to take the money. He said it’s the best girls like me can hope for.” I laugh bitterly. “Of course, his daughter the ‘victim’ became his daughter the ‘slut’ when he realized I was of legal age so the money would go to me, not him.” I glance at Luke. “So here I am. Living off a rich guy’s money like a prostitute.”

It was supposed to be a joke, but he doesn’t think it’s fu

My pulse pounds as the war rages in my head, conscience screaming, body pleading, but my brain already lost the second I’d decided to enter his room. I remember Casey’s plea, echoing in my head like an alarm I’m too tired to acknowledge.

Luke takes my hand and traces the lines in my palm, igniting a longing that swells up and fills me with an addictive ache that’s turning my willpower into a joke. I don’t care anymore. If I don’t touch him back, I will probably explode. I shift and lean into him. His arms tighten around me, and I suddenly feel safe, calm even. It’s a strange contrast to the burning tension a moment ago. I wonder what it would be like to sit here forever, perfectly tucked in his arms, listening to the rhythm of his heart. Its rapid pace begins to accelerate which sends my own blood racing again.

“I really did miss talking you,” he says quietly. “I wasn’t sure you’d come.”

“There was no way I wouldn’t,” I reply. He knows what I mean, and pulls me tighter.

“I know. I’m glad you did.”

I want to say I am, too. I know he’s waiting to hear it, but the words don’t come out. I’m still not sure I am. I know my heart hadn’t really given me a choice, but that doesn’t mean my brain isn’t going to torture me for giving in. What if Casey is right? What if I’m just filling the female role of the daily escape that includes drinking and sex? He certainly hasn’t made any promises otherwise. Am I right where dozens, hundreds, of other women have been before me?

I settle into him, suddenly afraid to pull away. A hug is safe and buys us time, but we both know this encounter is not going to end in a hug. If I pull away… It doesn’t matter. He does.

He doesn’t fully let go, and his hands remain around my waist. Our faces are inches from each other, close enough that the next step isn’t optional. Our eyes meet and my body ignites. I stare at him, knowing he’s going to kiss me. Knowing once we start there’s no way I will stop him. I’ve wanted it for a while now, dreamt about it, maybe even fantasized those long hours alone in my room, wondering where he was, wondering about that chair. There’d be no stopping it. I’m still not ready, but I don’t know how to deny myself at this point. No one is that strong.

He moves toward me and draws me in. Gentle at first, testing my reaction, and I immediately sense his comfort with this situation. He’s done this before. Many times. There’s a huge gap in experience and now a new fear sets in.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, concern all over his face.

I look away, slightly flustered. This isn’t the first time the thought of his accomplished past has crossed my mind, but I hadn’t realized it would be so obvious that I was out of my league.

“Nothing, it’s just…” I’m not sure how to say something like that. I don’t want to insult him, but suddenly I’m terrified of embarrassing myself more than anything else. I have no clue what he’s expecting, but I doubt it’s what he’s about to get. “Look, I’m not good at this. I mean…”

“Not good at what?”

I lean back and wave my hands. “This. All of this.”

“Kissing? Meeting up in hotel rooms? What?”

I shake my head. This is going terribly. Maybe that’s good. Maybe he’ll change his mind about the whole thing and I won’t have to be the strong one anymore. His grin isn’t promising.

“You worry way too much,” he laughs.

I bite my lip. “I just thought you should know. I don’t want you to be disappointed.”

“Disappointed?”

“It’s just…”

I don’t get to complete my sentence. This time the kiss isn’t gentle. It’s the one I’ve wanted. The one I’ve been waiting for, dreaming about. The kind that takes your breath away, explodes brain cells. His hands are in my hair, guiding me, preventing any kind of instinctive hesitation. Not that I would have been able to stop myself at this point, anyway. I’m not entirely sure what to do with my own hands, and find myself gripping his t-shirt. I want it off him, to feel the heat of his body against mine, but I’m not confident enough for that. I’m still not sure about any of this. It doesn’t feel right. I’m here with him, but I’m not entirely sure he’s here with me.