He rubs his hand over his cropped brown hair, his arm muscles rippling. "You're driving me f.u.c.king crazy."

"You say that a lot." I roll the sucker in my mouth and his eyes dart to it.

He stares at me, his eyes large and radiating desire. "Are you doing that on purpose?" he asks with a feral look as he nods his head at the sucker in my mouth.

The sucker clicks on my teeth. "No, I had the taste of tequila on my breath and this is the only thing I had in the room that'd cover it up."

He slumps back against the door, looking worn out. "I bet Jonah was loving it."

My lips turn upward around the sucker. "I'm sure he was."

He shakes his head and squeezes his eyes shut. "I swear to G.o.d you're trying to get under my skin."

I pull the sucker out of my mouth and chuck it into the trash. "I'm not trying to do anything to you. You're the one who came barging in here."

His eyes open, cold, sharp, and the look in them throws me back. And excites me. As the excitement mixes with the alcohol, I completely forget about everything. Where I am. Who I am. What I want.

He steps forward beside the head of the bed and I'm standing by the foot. "I was banging on the door because I was afraid of what you were doing in here."

"What? Dealing drugs? That's what I do, Luke. I already told you this."

"Well, you shouldn't be... and that's not what I was thinking..." His legs stretch as he strides toward me. "I thought you were having s.e.x."

I want to back away from him, because heat and pa.s.sion are pouring off of him as much as the scent of tequila and vodka is pouring off the both of us. "It's not really any of your business if I was."

"Yeah it is. Everything you do is my business."

I snort a laugh. "How do you figure?"

He crosses his arms as he stops just short of me. "Because you brought me into your life, moved in with me..." He trails off, his focus drifting to my mouth. "Kissed me."

I laugh and it's my drunken laugh, high pitched and goofy sounding. "I kissed you. Get your story straight. You're the one who smashed your lips into mine."

"I didn't smash my lips into yours," he says hotly, blinking his eyes into focus as he leans in. "We kissed each other together and you liked it. Admit it."

I shake my head in denial. "I won't."

"Say it."

"No way."

"Oh my G.o.d," he growls, shaking with irritation as he clenches his hands. "I can't win with you. I try and try and try to get something from you-anything-and you won't give it to me."

"I'm so sorry that I don't let you win with me like all the other girls you sleep with," my inebriated mouth says. "There's the door." I point my finger at it. "You can leave whenever you want."

He shakes his head and lets out a piercing laugh. "This was supposed to be our room, but you took it over."

"I didn't take it over, you just won't come in here."

He pauses and when he speaks again, he's calmer. "Is that what you're really waiting for? For me to just come in here? Because it seemed like you wanted your s.p.a.ce."

"Yes, it's what I was waiting for," I stammer. Actually stammer. I never stammer. Through our little code talk I've somehow managed to lose my confident voice and admit to him that I've been waiting around for him to come to me.

He pauses, looking startled, horrified, the sedated, his eyes darkening as his eyelashes lower. "Say it again."

"Say what?"

He slides his foot across the floor, stepping closer, and his knee b.u.mps against mine. "That you were waiting for me to come in here."

I shake my head, pushing my knee up against his. "I wasn't."

His gaze flicks to our knees touching. "You just said you were."

"Well, I'm a liar."

"I know, but you weren't lying."

I don't say anything at all. I think about walking by him, leaving the house, heading down the road, hitchhiking to the tallest building in the city. Get to the roof and soar. Instead I stay put, because the haziness in my head is making it okay to stay here with him. I wait eagerly for him to do whatever it is he's going to do. Yell at me. Leave me. Kiss me.

His arm comes out to the side and curls around toward my hip. I start to open my mouth as his fingers brush my skin and enfold around my waist, but suddenly I lose it and lean in, kissing him. The second our lips touch, I feel safe from all the bad in my life. I blame it on the tequila. But I'm pretty sure it's not the tequila that makes me do what I do next, only the pa.s.sion I feel in the moment. As I part my lips hoping he'll slip his tongue into my mouth, I eliminate the s.p.a.ce between our bodies, crushing myself up against him, then I raise my leg to hitch it over his hip. There's a pause of reluctance on Luke's part and then he lets out a husky groan and everything abruptly starts moving in fast motion. His hot palm slides down my hip to my thigh, fingers stabbing through the fabric of my skirt as he grips my leg and scoops me up. I hook my legs around his, locking my ankles as his tongue slides deep into my mouth. He presses up against me, moaning again as he steers us around toward the bed. Seconds later we fall. Together. We land on the mattress and it becomes concave, conforming to the weight of our bodies. We get tangled in the sheets and blanket, our legs entwined, hands all over each other, bodies writhing in harmony. I keep making these little whimpering noises, but it can't be right. I don't whimper.

Luke pulls his mouth away as I whimper for the fifth or eleventh time. He scans my face as I pant loudly, my hands cupping his shoulder blades, the warmth of his skin flowing through the fabric of his shirt.

"Why'd you stop?" I ask, breathless.

"I have no idea," he mumbles then seals his lips to mine, gathering my arms in his hands and pinning them above me.

I gasp, the desire flooding through me more powerful than my need for an adrenaline rush. I've got plenty of it in me now. Pounding at the sensitive parts of my body, throbbing in my thighs. He devours me with his mouth as he traps my wrists together and presses me down against the bed. I kiss him back with more emotion behind it than I've ever let myself feel before, my fingers tracing up and down his back, through his hair as my back bows up and I writhe against him. His free hand wanders down my body, then up my skirt, heading for the top of my thigh. It's not the furthest I've gone before, but the furthest I've gone with someone I have feelings for and the emotion behind it is becoming too much.

I start to say stop, but then his finger slips inside the edge of my panties and the words are stolen out of my lips by the startling, yet amazing tingles coursing through every part of my body. I feel like I'm going to burst and the sensation only increases when he slips a finger inside me and then another. I cry out in bliss as he starts moving them, my hips bucking against his hand, my body seeking more. He kisses me pa.s.sionately before his mouth delves downward, his hand leaving my arms, freeing me from his hold.

I keep my arms above my head though, my eyes shut as I gasp for air. His other hand shoves my top up. He yanks my bra down and my nipples spring free, seconds later his mouth covers my breast. I'm gone. Drowning in a sea of desire and alcohol, falling helplessly as I lose control and my body ignites. I cry out again as I dig my nails into my palms, seeking a release from the adrenaline rush I've been craving all night. I feel myself come apart, falling into helplessness, losing control over everything as everything inside me breaks apart and my mind drifts away. When I return back to reality, I'm exhausted, drained, but content. Luke's no longer sucking on my nipple, but lying beside me with his elbow propped against the mattress and his head resting against his hand. He doesn't say anything, just stares down at me, his eyes glossy, his face crammed with uncertainty, like he's unsure-or maybe even regrets-what just happened.

"I'm sorry I had my phone off when you called me," he says quietly. "I always turn my phone off when I'm playing poker."

I want to tell him why I was upset, but even drunk, the idea of opening Pandora's box stuffed with my past doesn't seem like a good idea.

"I'm sorry I took over the room." I offer him a tired smile.

A small smile graces his lips. "It's fine. I was sort of intentionally sleeping out on the couch anyway, because it felt like you needed your s.p.a.ce."

"I thought I did... because that's what I usually do..." I trail off, blinking through my tiredness. "But I'm not so sure anymore."

He's quiet for a moment. "If you need me... then I'm here."

I take breath as he reaches over and then brushes his fingers along my ribs. He pulls my shirt back down, covering me up. It feels like the nicest thing anyone's done for me and I feel like hugging him, but my arms are too tired.

I yawn, the drowsiness of the alcohol taking over me. "I think I'm going to go to bed," I mumble as I flip over and practically crawl up to my pillow and collapse onto my stomach. He sits up on the edge of the bed and stares at the door. "You can go out there if you want." I yawn again. "But I wish you'd stay here... with me..." I can barely register what I'm saying, but all I know is that when I'm in his arms, it seems like all the bad is gone.

Luke I have never done that before. Never gave a girl everything and took nothing in return. I'd always been selfish and that was kind of the point. I wanted to be selfish instead of being walked all over.

After Violet falls asleep, telling me she wishes I'd stay with her, I sit on the bed with my head in my hands as I decide what to do. I'm seriously considering lying down with her, holding her, falling asleep because I'm exhausted. Mentally. But I can't sort through my thoughts filled with the way she moaned and how all I wanted to do was make her moan again. Then she came and the look in her eyes was so content, so s.e.xy, so amazing. There was so much inside emotion in her at the moment-pleasure, desire, want, need-and it was fascinating to watch because she never shows anything. It gave me the biggest hard on I've ever had. The next step would have been to f.u.c.k her, take back the control, get what I want out of it, yet I couldn't. She's drunk. I'm drunk. It's not right and I don't want to do that to her-that's not how I want things to be between us.

Shaking my head, I get up and go to the door, leaving the room and her sleeping on the bed because I'm not sure I can contain myself. I feel bad for leaving, but at the same time I'm too restless to stay.

The card game is still going on, but a lot of the people have cleared out of the apartment. "Have fun?" Seth asks with speculation in his eyes as he looks up at me from his cards. Greyson has his arm around him, examining his cards. When he peers up at me, there's a concerned look in his eyes that makes me wonder if he knows something about Violet, like maybe what happened to her parents.

"As much as I ever do." I round the table, noting Jonah and Kenzie have bailed, and head for the fridge. I grab a bottle of tequila and swig it down, over and over again, letting the burn sink in, hoping to regain the person I used to be-the one I built so I could avoid being owned and controlled by someone, like my mom used to do all the time to me. But can't I find him anymore. I'm turning into someone else who I don't think I like unless I'm kissing Violet, and then it seems okay to be this way, letting go, giving her what she wants, not being the one in control, the kind of guy who does stuff for other people, who lets people into his f.u.c.ked-up life.

I want Violet more than I've ever wanted anyone. I want everything I've been avoiding since I turned sixteen and I no longer care that I'm not thinking just about myself. I want Violet so bad it burns under my skin fiercer than the alcohol burns at my throat.

At the end of the seemingly endless swallow, I still feel the overpowering urge to go back to the room-to her-so I do. I climb into the bed and nuzzle up against her, holding on to her, lying beside her, like she asked me to do. But I'm not even sure who I do it for.

I sleep with a girl for the very first time and the surprising thing is I enjoy it for a moment until I shut my eyes. Then, as usual, the past catches up with me.

It's dark outside, really late, but I can hear the boom of fireworks going off as they sprinkle the sky. My room is dark, but I can't sleep because I can hear my mom banging around in the kitchen. I'm about to get up and see what she's doing, because she's been acting really weird lately, taking all these pills and snorting things up her nose. But then I hear my door creak open and someone walks inside.

"Lukey, I need you." She strokes my head as I lay in bed, pretending to be asleep. "Wake up."

I open my eyes to the moonlight glowing through my room, the sounds of fireworks exploding in the distance, and my mother sitting on the edge of my bed.

"What do you want?" I ask, rubbing my tired eyes.

She stands up and wanders over to the window, staring outside at the backyard. "I think we're being watched."

I sit up. "What?"

She turns around and holds her hand out to me. "Come with me, sweetie."

I shake my head and let out a frustrated breath, but finally, I get to my feet. She sometimes acts weird like this and it's annoying, but tonight she seems more intense, her breathing really loud, her hand gripping mine too tightly as she hauls me out of the room. She drags me into the living room and we sink down onto the couch wrapped in plastic. I wait in fear for what she's going to do next, noticing the blood on her shirt and hands for the first time. Finally, she wraps her arms around me and starts to cry.

"I did something wrong," she sobs, rocking back and forth.

"Please, just let me go, Mom," I practically beg, because her grip is hurting me.

"Lukey, I can't let you go. I need you." She hugs me tighter and there's blood on her clothes. It's warm and feels wrong as it seeps into my clothes.

"Mom," I say, my voice trembling as I feel so weak inside because I don't want her holding me right now but I'm not strong enough to get away. Everything feels wrong. Her. Me. The blood on her clothes. "Why do you have blood on your clothes?"

She sobs hysterically, pressing her cheek against the top of my head. She starts singing under her breath, one of the songs she wrote for my dad when he was leaving her.

"Lean into me. Lean into me. Take. Help me. I need to understand. Help me. I can't do this without you." She sings it over and over again, all night, refusing to let me go, and I feel smaller and smaller with each word until I'm so small I barely exist.

Chapter 15.

Violet I wake up the next morning, not gasping for the first time, but my head is throbbing and my dry throat burns with the need to hack. I start to get up to go to the bathroom, when I realize I'm weighed down by an arm. I roll over and find Luke sleeping beside me in the bed with his arm draped over me. Well, this is... interesting.

I sift through my memories, wincing at the protesting pain, and slowly it comes back to me in sharp images. I wince at one in particular, Luke's fingers sliding inside me, but then as I remember how it felt, my stomach somersaults, and I remember how content I felt. I could try to blame it on the alcohol-it wouldn't be the first time-but with the positive way my body responds to the memories, I'd only be bulls.h.i.tting myself.

Lying beside him isn't so bad, either, which is confusing to accept. All these years, never letting anyone get that close to me, never feeling anything for anyone on a deep level. I don't know what to do with myself. Give in to the feeling or bail out.

Carefully, I lift his arm off me and duck out from under it. Then I climb over him and leave him sleeping in the room. I need to clear my head. Breathe. Think about what all this means and decide what I'm going to do when he wakes up.

I quietly pad across the kitchen, make myself a coffee, then cross the living room littered with garbage, chips, cards. I head for the sliding gla.s.s door that leads to the balcony, slide it open, and step out into the morning sunlight, a gentle breeze kissing my skin. I climb up onto the thick wooden railing with the cup of coffee in my hand and sit down, relaxing against the beams with my feet hanging over the edge. I stare down at the ground, not thinking about jumping for once, but thinking about the past.

I remember the first time I had to switch foster families. I was seven and didn't understand why at first. Yeah, I knew I was acting a little crazy and I cried a lot, but people weren't just supposed to give up kids, right? It's not like I wanted a lot, just someone to help me feel safe from the darkness that was living inside me, the memories that haunted me, the loneliness.

The look on their faces as I packed my suitcase and headed out with my social worker was one I never would forget. They weren't sad to see me going, they were relieved. They didn't want me, not like my parents did. The painful, brutal, harsh reality of life struck me in the chest that day and nearly crippled me. From then on I refused to get attached to anyone, knowing eventually they'd hand me back. It was easier not to feel anything than to feel all the bad. And I've been doing it ever since, refusing to feel anything except the one thing I can control. My adrenaline rushes. So easy to start. To endure. Much better to feel than the harder stuff, like heartache.

I shut my eyes and let the sunlight spill over me as I sip the coffee, warm my skin, knowing that what happened with Luke last night wasn't just an adrenaline rush. I felt stuff with him. Even drunk. I've been feeling stuff for him since the day he helped me get to cla.s.s. He's helped me out so much and never asked for anything in return. He makes me feel safe and sometimes when he looks at me, touches me, kisses me, it feels like he wants me. All of me. The cranky, erratic, Violet that falls out windows and kicks him in the head. Who relies on him a little too much, yet he never seems that bothered. He goes against my theory about people and I just cross my fingers that I'm not wrong.

I hear the sliding door glide open and I don't open my eyes, holding my breath as I set the cup down on the railing.

"Violet, what are you doing out here?" Luke asks.

I keep my eyes sealed shut, wondering if he can remember last night or if he was too drunk. "Just thinking?"

"About what? Is it... Are you thinking about last night?" He seems nervous and I hear the door glide shut, so it's just him, me, and the open ground below.

"You really want to know?" I ask softly.

"Yeah... I do," he says, sounding strained and I open my eyes and twist around to look at him.

He looks exhausted, dark circles under his eyes, his skin pallid, almost green, and his clothes are wrinkled. He was sleeping with his head turned and his hair is flattened on one side, not the most attractive look, yet I can't seem to look away from him.

"I'm thinking about my life." I have to catch my breath because I just told the truth and the raw realness of it nearly smothers me.

He scans me over and then joins me on the railing, sitting next to me with his feet on the deck. "Yeah, I've been thinking a lot about mine, too."

"Why's that?"

"Because... you go against everything I've built... for myself."

"Yeah, you, too,... for me..."

We stare at each other for what seems like an eternity, the sun beaming down on us as we refuse to look away, but not because we're challenging each other. Because we're trying to figure something out.

"Look about last night." Luke speaks first, leaning against the beam and drawing his bare foot up onto the railing. "I think I should explain myself... I had no right to bang on that door like a f.u.c.king controlling, obsessed lunatic... I'm not usually like that."

"Actually you kind of are," I say, bringing the coffee cup up to my lips. "I've thought you were intense even before we officially met, Mr. Stoically Aloof."