Rock Chick Revenge (Rock Chick #5)(80)

He was right. It wasn’t.

And he was using The Voice a lot these days.

Crap!

Then I hit on a plan. It was a stupid plan but it was all I could come up with at the time. I knew he’d never go for it but at least it was something.

“We’ll be f**k buddies,” I told him.

His grin disappeared, his chin jerked down and his brows drew together. “Come again?”

“Fuck buddies. You know, like they talked about on Sex and the City. Guys you know that you sleep with. Just sex. No entanglements, no relationship, just mind-blowing sex.”

The grin came back as his face relaxed. “Mind-blowing sex?”

Oops. I probably shouldn’t have used that adjective.

“Or, you know, good sex,” I tried to cover.

His body started shaking with laughter.

I started getting angry again. “Luke!” I snapped.

His hands pulled the sweatshirt up over my behind and went in, sliding across the skin of my back.

“I could do f**k buddies,” he said and I blinked.

I thought he’d say no. In fact, I was certain he’d say no. That was why I suggested it.

“You could?” I asked.

“Yeah,” his hands started moving up my back (taking the sweatshirt with it, by the way).

“Seriously?”

“Yeah.”

Okay, now what had I gotten myself into? I’d just become f**k buddies with Luke Stark.

Worse than that, it was my idea!

I like that idea, I think it’s fab, Bad Ava had lost her warning vibe and now sounded dreamy.

I hate it. It stinks, Good Ava had lost her happy vibe and now sounded pissed.

“With rules,” Luke said.

Uh-oh. Here we go.

“Fuck buddies don’t have rules. It’s like being in a fight club. The first rule of f**k buddies is, there are no rules.” I was making this up as I went along. I had no idea if f**k buddies had rules. I’d never had a f**k buddy. I’d never even wanted one.

Hell I didn’t want one now!

Especially not Luke.

The inky went out of his eyes and they got scary shiny. “We’re gonna have rules.”

I thought, considering his scary shiny eyes, it was probably best I at least listen to his rules.

“What are the rules?” I asked on a sigh.

“First, we’re the kind of f**k buddies who spend time together, not f**kin’.”

“Luke, that defeats the purpose of f**k buddies.”

Again, I was making it up.

He ignored me. “Second, we’re exclusive f**k buddies. No one else touches you while I’m f**kin’ you.”

That one wouldn’t be hard.

“Let’s go back to the first one,” I said.

“Ava, that’s the deal, no discussion.”

“What kind of time would we spend together?”

“Ava –”

“No, I want to know.”

His eyes dropped to my mouth and his arms wrapped around me so his fingers were resting on the sides of my br**sts.

Then he muttered, “Maybe we’ll just f**k.”

I felt my knees wobble as my lungs expanded. “I could spend time not f**king,” I blurted.

He grinned.

Foiled again!

I glared.

He caught the glare and his body started shaking with laughter again.

“Honestly, I hate you,” I told him.

“No,” his mouth came to mine, his eyes not leaving my own, “you don’t.”

Against my will, I started sliding into a fog. My head tilted back further, his slanted and he started to kiss me when the buzzer went. He disengaged from my lips but kissed my nose, then walked away.

In another fog, I watched him move. He’d put on another pair of sweatpants, these black with three black-on-black stripes up the sides.

Not surprisingly, his chest was bare.

I noticed, not for the first time but with my Luke Sense significantly more honed after our sex-a-thon that he moved well. He moved like he was in absolute command of every centimeter of muscle, sinew and bone in his body and there were a lot of them. I sighed at the sight and even I had to admit it was a contented sound.

Damn it all to hell.

He picked up the door phone and said, “Yeah?” Three seconds later, his eyes cut to me.

Whatever it was, I knew by the look of him was not good.

He listened for another couple of seconds then, without a word, he put down the phone. I watched him walk back to me and since he had a funny look on his face, as if he didn’t know whether to laugh or yell, I didn’t watch the way he moved just his expression. I was waiting for him to decide.

He came into the kitchen and leaned his h*ps against the counter opposite me, putting his palms on it at his sides.

“Santo Mancini wants you to know he’s ready just in case you wanna go somewhere,” he told me calmly neither laughing nor yelling (which was a relief).

I stared at him. “Who?” I asked.

“Santo Mancini.”

“Who’s San…?” Oh shit. Ren’s bodyguard.

Again, I wanted someone to tell me, why me? My life was so complicated, I couldn’t even keep track of all the f**ked up shit that was happening.

His voice started sliding into the “going to yell” zone. “You wanna tell me why the guy who kidnapped you a few days ago is buzzin’ up to the loft tellin’ me he’s waitin’ for you downstairs?”