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It felt as if we were an old married couple.
Even when it was time to call it a night. We went our separate ways without a fuss, however, I longed to be with him, for his arms to wrap around me and keep me safe from myself. Yet, I knew that couldn’t be.Wecouldn’t be.
I tried to convince myself things would change once this whole, hide from the cartel so they wouldn’t kill me thing, was over and I could go back to my life. I would be free to be with whomever I wanted and so would Lock. But deep down, I wasn’t sure if that was true. Lock was a tough nut to crack. Just when I thought I had him figured out, he’d throw me a curve ball. One minute he would look at me as if he couldn’t breathe without me, then the next it was as if he had no interest in me at all.
It felt as if he was using my case as a way to keep his distance and I was letting him. I told myself if we were meant to be, there wouldn’t be anything he could do to stay away from me. So far, he was resisting me just fine, so maybe he wasn’t my fate. Maybe he wasn’t my lifetime, my soulmate, and this was God showing me that truth.
However, I couldn’t think about that now. Right now, he needed me, and I would be there, no matter what.
I stepped to his closed bedroom door and listened for any sound coming from his room. It was quiet, which could either be a good or bad thing. I took a deep breath and knocked on the door.
“Lock, are you okay?” I asked after a few seconds of knocking.
Silence greeted me. I waited a few more seconds and knocked again, calling his name.
There was the sound of a drawer slamming, then I heard a gruff, dark and bitter voice ring out, “Go back downstairs, I’m fine.”
I snorted.You’re anything but fine, I whispered to myself.
Clearly, Detective Mills was playing hard to get. That’s fine. I knew that game and played it well. I checked the doorknob and found it locked. I grunted again and disappeared back downstairs. I went to the coat closet by the steps, removed a jacket from its thick wired hanger and tossed the jacket on the floor of the closet.
I straightened the wire as I re-climbed the steps, taking my time, thinking of what I would say to the numbskull once I saw him. I took a few deep breaths, preparing to feel the wrath of his anger when I stepped into his world. However, nothing could prepare me for the heap of flesh sitting on the edge of an enormous king-sized bed.
I swear Lock looked as if he aged in a matter of minutes. He was leaning over, resting his arms on his thighs. His knuckles looked red, bruised. His shoulders were tensed, muscles flexing, thick veins running along his forearm. And he was breathing heavily, as if he had run like twenty miles or something. Or he had gone a round or two with his demons and lost.
I glanced around the bedroom, taking in the spacious room, his domain, his space. The room was large, with bow windows adding depth to the space. The bed, along with the dresser and chest, only took up half the room. On the other half was a sitting area complete with two recliners facing a forty-inch flat screen mounted tv. The room was otherwise neat, except for the broken lamp on the floor and the unkept bed.
I carefully stepped around the broken shards and stood in front of Lock. He hadn’t lifted his head or said a word to me, but I was ready. Ready for whatever he did or said. I wouldn’t take it personal. I knew he was hurting, could feel it suffocating this room, draining him; low key draining me too.
I noticed a bottle of scotch tightly fisted in one hand. The other was balled up and hanging over his thigh. I needed to reach him. I didn’t think he would talk to me, but that’s fine. I just wanted to be here for him.
My heart raced and I felt my body shiver from the coldness radiating from him. But I ignored all that and stepped closer to him.
I reached out and lightly touched his forearm. I ran my fingers along his hot skin until they touched his tight fist. I grabbed the bottle and prepared to pull it out of his hand forcefully. However, his grip loosened as I went to remove it. Surprised, but trying not to show it, I placed the unopened bottle behind me on the dresser.
When I turned back to face him, hard dark eyes were staring up at me. A shiver racked my body instinctively, and I should have backed my ass out of this room. The look I saw in Lock’s eyes was something I had never seen in him, and yet it was so familiar. I could still sense his soul. I knew he was still with me, but his darkness was slowly taking over, dragging him to a place that would be hell getting him out of.
I reached up and ran my fingers through his hair, making sure to scrape my fingertips along his scalp. His eyes rolled to the back of his head for a split second before they were back on me, studying me, breaking me down. I could feel power in his gaze too, strength I had never felt from him before, dominance that I only dreamed about. It was consuming my soul, taking control, and fuck if I didn’t relinquish it all to him.
Keep in mind no words were spoken between us. Our communication was expressed through heavy glances, dark eyes, and light touches.
A warning passed through his gaze, telling me I had a chance to save myself. All I had to do was walk back out of this room and not look back.
I didn’t move.
No, that wasn’t true. I moved. I moved closer to him and placed the fingers of my other hand through his hair. I received the same response, but this time, he rested his head against my belly, running his hands along my thighs to my hips. They traveled around to my ass and gripped the hell out of me. I responded in kind by gripping the hell out of his hair.
Without warning, Lock bolted to his feet. Surprised, I stepped back, but the grip on my ass didn’t allow me to go far. In fact, I was picked up and placed on top of the dresser behind me, my legs pushed open, his body between my thighs.
Lock leaned in close and set despondent eyes on me. I shifted under his dark scrutiny, anxiously waiting for what he would do next. He held me there for what felt like an eternity before he grunted and shook his head. He went to grab the liquor bottle next to me, but I beat him to it, grabbed it and put it behind my back. Like that would stop him, but I had to try. I didn’t want him using alcohol to drown his anger, his frustrations. I wanted him to drown in me. To use me instead.
“What do you need this for?” I asked, lifting my chin, goading him.
Lock rested his palms on the dresser on either side of my hips. His eyes seem to darken even more as he said, “Because what I really want, you’re not ready for.”
That hurt.
I straightened my spine and narrowed my eyes. “How do you know what I’m ready for?”
