stool seating. To the right was
a door I assumed would be a closet, and then a hallway leading to
unseen rooms.
As I stood there taking everything in, I felt
Luke come up behind me and lift my hair over my shoulder sweeping
it off my neck. He then leaned in and pressed his lips softly
behind my ear, kissing my tattoo. I felt myself melting back
against him and stiffened, refusing to give in to the need starting
to course through my body.
“Luke,” I whispered. “Why did you bring me
here?”
He answered me with his mouth still against
my skin. “So you can know me. And because I’ve been dreaming of
having you in my bed since I touched you the first time.” He
pressed kisses down my throat, nipping my skin when he reached my
shoulder.
I shivered at the feel of his teeth, closing
my eyes at the sensation. I started to turn, forgetting for the
moment that I was fighting against this, when he stepped back,
dropping his hands from me.
He sat on the couch beside Doug, stroking his
head absent-mindedly as he began speaking unexpectedly.
“I bought this place for me and Brandon after
Lenny passed away. He had left us a pretty good sum in addition to
the shop. Brandon could have gotten his own place, but honestly,
neither one of us wanted that. This is the first real home we’ve
ever had, and we’ve only really had each other.” He paused as I
crossed the room to sink into the overstuffed armchair that matched
the couch he and Doug were sitting on.
“Our parents died in an accident when I was
twelve. They weren’t the best of parents, but they were our
parents, you know? Anyway, we were sent to live with my dad’s
brother, who unfortunately, was a drunken asshole. He liked to come
home from work and get shit faced. He had a wife, if you could call
her that. She was treated more like a servant, though she was
probably the nicest anyone had ever been to either of us.
One night, Brandon wasn’t feeling well and
ended up getting sick in the hallway as he tried to run to the
bathroom. He was only ten, you know? So he called for Celia, hoping
she’d come help him, maybe mother him a little. Instead, he got
Stu. Stu stumbled down the hall, saw the mess, and starting yelling
at Brandon, telling him he was a worthless piece of shit that did
nothing but make messes and cost him money. I had run out of my
room when I heard him start yelling to get to Brandon. Brandon was
crying, trying to explain that he didn’t feel good, but Stu didn’t
want to hear it. Didn’t want to hear it so much that he backhanded
Brandon across the face, splitting his lip and knocking him to the
floor. He raised his foot to kick him. A ten year old! He was gonna
kick him in his ribs or his face, hell, I don’t know which for
sure, but I knew that I wasn’t going to let him.
I screamed at Stu to stop, then I tackled
him. I hit him over and over again until Celia pulled me off of
him, then he just laid there. I never figured out if he had passed
out from being drunk or if I had knocked him out, but Celia grabbed
us up, packed our clothes into two large trash bags and drove us
down to the Juvenile Detention Center. She told the guard on duty
that they couldn’t take us anymore, not that we were bad kids, but
we just weren’t wanted. We spent the night in a holding room and
they put us in a foster home the next day.”
Luke stopped talking for a minute, looking
over to me and searching my face. I don’t know what he was looking
for, but he must have seen what he wanted because he continued.
“We bounced from home to home until I was
eighteen. I had always taken care of Brandon, so the day I turned
eighteen, I packed us both up and we took off on our own. I managed
to do well in school through the years, regardless of what was
happening around us. I graduated, and I was gonna do everything in
my power to make sure Brandon did the same. We lived in a shit hole
motel in Timbleton, and I did odd jobs to make money. I had saved
enough that we
a door I assumed would be a closet, and then a hallway leading to
unseen rooms.
As I stood there taking everything in, I felt
Luke come up behind me and lift my hair over my shoulder sweeping
it off my neck. He then leaned in and pressed his lips softly
behind my ear, kissing my tattoo. I felt myself melting back
against him and stiffened, refusing to give in to the need starting
to course through my body.
“Luke,” I whispered. “Why did you bring me
here?”
He answered me with his mouth still against
my skin. “So you can know me. And because I’ve been dreaming of
having you in my bed since I touched you the first time.” He
pressed kisses down my throat, nipping my skin when he reached my
shoulder.
I shivered at the feel of his teeth, closing
my eyes at the sensation. I started to turn, forgetting for the
moment that I was fighting against this, when he stepped back,
dropping his hands from me.
He sat on the couch beside Doug, stroking his
head absent-mindedly as he began speaking unexpectedly.
“I bought this place for me and Brandon after
Lenny passed away. He had left us a pretty good sum in addition to
the shop. Brandon could have gotten his own place, but honestly,
neither one of us wanted that. This is the first real home we’ve
ever had, and we’ve only really had each other.” He paused as I
crossed the room to sink into the overstuffed armchair that matched
the couch he and Doug were sitting on.
“Our parents died in an accident when I was
twelve. They weren’t the best of parents, but they were our
parents, you know? Anyway, we were sent to live with my dad’s
brother, who unfortunately, was a drunken asshole. He liked to come
home from work and get shit faced. He had a wife, if you could call
her that. She was treated more like a servant, though she was
probably the nicest anyone had ever been to either of us.
One night, Brandon wasn’t feeling well and
ended up getting sick in the hallway as he tried to run to the
bathroom. He was only ten, you know? So he called for Celia, hoping
she’d come help him, maybe mother him a little. Instead, he got
Stu. Stu stumbled down the hall, saw the mess, and starting yelling
at Brandon, telling him he was a worthless piece of shit that did
nothing but make messes and cost him money. I had run out of my
room when I heard him start yelling to get to Brandon. Brandon was
crying, trying to explain that he didn’t feel good, but Stu didn’t
want to hear it. Didn’t want to hear it so much that he backhanded
Brandon across the face, splitting his lip and knocking him to the
floor. He raised his foot to kick him. A ten year old! He was gonna
kick him in his ribs or his face, hell, I don’t know which for
sure, but I knew that I wasn’t going to let him.
I screamed at Stu to stop, then I tackled
him. I hit him over and over again until Celia pulled me off of
him, then he just laid there. I never figured out if he had passed
out from being drunk or if I had knocked him out, but Celia grabbed
us up, packed our clothes into two large trash bags and drove us
down to the Juvenile Detention Center. She told the guard on duty
that they couldn’t take us anymore, not that we were bad kids, but
we just weren’t wanted. We spent the night in a holding room and
they put us in a foster home the next day.”
Luke stopped talking for a minute, looking
over to me and searching my face. I don’t know what he was looking
for, but he must have seen what he wanted because he continued.
“We bounced from home to home until I was
eighteen. I had always taken care of Brandon, so the day I turned
eighteen, I packed us both up and we took off on our own. I managed
to do well in school through the years, regardless of what was
happening around us. I graduated, and I was gonna do everything in
my power to make sure Brandon did the same. We lived in a shit hole
motel in Timbleton, and I did odd jobs to make money. I had saved
enough that we
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