8. Steele
STEELE
T he scent hits me the second I step off the elevator and into the penthouse. It’s something savory and buttery, rich enough to make my stomach grumble after a brutal two-hour practice on the ice.
But it’s the humming that really gets me.
It’s soft, tuneless, and even more than that, content.
I drop the grocery bag by the bench in the entryway and follow the scent like a bloodhound. The second I round the corner into the kitchen, I freeze.
Lilah’s dancing barefoot and wearing a midriff-bearing sweater with the sleeves rolled to her elbows. Her hair is piled on top of her head in a messy knot, and there’s flour dusted across her cheek and the counter. One cabinet door is hanging open as a spatula sits against a pan on the stove.
It looks like a bomb went off in here.
And I fucking love it.
This is exactly what Lilah looks like when she’s happy.
Really happy .
It’s not the kind of quiet composure she used to wear like armor when she was with Devon. This is loose and effortless. She looks like she belongs here, moving around my kitchen .
The last thing I want to do is interrupt.
I just want to soak in the sight for a few minutes.
But then she spins around and her gaze catches mine. A tiny squeak of surprise slips from her as she tugs one of the earbuds from her ear.
“Oh my God, Steele!” She laughs. “You scared me.”
I lift a brow and nod toward the apron around her waist. “You’re making a mess of my kitchen.”
She grins, completely unrepentant. “Kitchens are supposed to be messy.”
“Is that so?”
“Mm-hmm.” Her gaze drops to my arms, and she does a double take. “Wait. What is that?”
I hold up the tiny gray kitten, who meows. “This?” I say casually. “This is a kitten.”
Lilah blinks before moving closer. “Is it a he or she?”
“She,” I say, running a gentle hand down the kitten’s tiny back, careful not to spook her. “She came from one of the staff members at the arena. Their cat had kittens, and they were looking for homes.”
Lilah blinks up at me in confusion. “So why do you have one?”
I smile, brushing a fingertip behind the kitten’s ear. “Because I know how much you’ve always wanted a pet.”
Her mouth parts, the words slow to come. “My parents… and then Devon were allergic,” she says quietly, like it’s a confession.
A realization.
“Right,” I murmur. “So now you can have one.”
Her gaze drops to the tiny bundle of fur. “But do you want a kitten?” she asks, her voice soft, almost unsure. “What happens when I move out? What if I can’t keep her wherever I end up?”
I don’t look away. “Then I’ll keep her. No questions asked. It gets a little lonely around here sometimes. ”
A silent war plays out across her face. Joy, surprise, gratitude, and something deeper. Something that looks an awful lot like heartbreak.
She lifts the kitten into her arms, cradling the tiny body against her chest, pressing her cheek to the small, purring head.
“I can’t believe you did this,” she whispers, her tone thick with emotion.
I step closer. “I knew it would make you happy. That’s all I want.”
The smile she graces me with is full and wide. It’s the kind that takes me apart and stitches me back together in the same heartbeat.
“Thank you.”
Drawn to her, I brush my fingers against her flour-covered cheek. “Anytime, lucky charm.”
My heart expands. Ever since I met this girl in college, all I’ve ever wanted to do is make her happy.
After dinner, Lilah settles on the couch with the kitten.
Once the kitchen is cleaned, I drop onto the cushion beside her and turn sideways so I can watch the two of them. Lilah’s bare feet are tucked beneath her, and she’s stroking the kitten’s fur.
“You’re good with her,” I say after a long beat of comfortable silence.
She glances up at me with a smile. “She’s perfect. Thanks again for bringing her home.”
“No problem.”
Lilah scratches behind the kitten’s ears. “What should we name her?”
“What do you mean? Why can’t we just keep calling her ‘kitten’?”
“She deserves something dignified,” Lilah says, with the kind of serious tone that tells me she’s already thinking way too hard about this. “Something elegant. Timeless.”
I rub my jaw, pretending to be just as serious. “Like… Duchess Fluffernutter the Third?”
Lilah chokes on a laugh. “Oh my God, stop. Absolutely not.”
“You said timeless.”
“I meant like Eleanor. Or maybe Margot.”
“Mmm. Too regal,” I say. “What about… Are you ready for this? Puck?”
She narrows her eyes. “You did not just suggest naming her after a rubber disc.”
“I absolutely did. It’s clever. She’s tiny, fast, and changes direction without warning.”
“She doesn’t belong on the ice.”
“That remains to be seen,” I say before glancing down at the kitten now stretched across my thigh, purring like an idling engine.
Lilah watches us with a smile. “She likes you.”
I meet her gaze. “Hopefully she’s not the only one.”
Lilah swallows as her hand trails lightly down the kitten’s spine. “What about Waffles?” she asks, clearing her throat. “Too ridiculous?”
“Absolutely not,” I say with a grin. “Waffles is perfect.”
“Okay then, it’s settled.” She gives a decisive nod and scratches under the kitten’s chin. “Welcome home, Waffles.”
Waffles purrs louder, as if she’s in complete agreement with her newly bestowed name.
Lilah leans her head on my shoulder and, unable to help myself, I press a kiss against her hair. One of my hands rests gently on her thigh as the other strokes the small bundle of fur snuggled between us.
I can honestly say that I’ve never felt more content.
When she shifts, stretching her legs out toward the coffee table and flexing her feet with a sigh, I say, “Give them to me. Remember all the foot rubs I gave you in college?”
She hesitates. “You don’t have to do that.”
“I know,” I say, giving her a look. “I want to.”
A beat passes before she swings her legs into my lap. My hands wrap around her ankle. Her skin is so soft, it sends a jolt straight through me.
Waffles jumps to the floor, batting around a toy I picked up at the store.
I press my thumbs into the arch of her foot, working steadily. I know exactly where to knead to make her melt, and when she lets out a quiet sound as her head tips back against the couch, my blood spikes white-hot and arousal rushes through my veins.
It takes every ounce of focus not to let my mind spiral to places it shouldn’t.
But it does anyway.
Especially when I take in her slightly parted lips or the way her lashes flutter against her cheekbones. She melts into me like I’m the only thing tethering her to the earth.
Doesn’t she realize I could put that same look on her face in other ways if she’d just let me? I’d drop to my knees and worship her the way I’ve been dreaming about for a decade.
As tempting as it is to make a move, there’s no way I can do that.
Not now.
Not when she’s still nursing a broken heart.
But that doesn’t stop me from working my way up her calf. My progress is slow and methodical. I want to drag out this moment indefinitely so I don’t have to stop touching her. Her shoulders sink deeper into the cushions, and tension bleeds from her like a deflating balloon.
“You really do have magic hands,” she murmurs. Her voice comes out sounding like she’s been drugged .
My fingers tighten as my stomach clenches.
This woman has no idea what she’s doing to me.
Abso-fucking-lutely none.
Just as I trace along the inside of her knee, Waffles launches herself up onto the couch, her tiny body landing on Lilah’s stomach.
Lilah bursts into laughter, one hand going straight to the kitten. “Personal space doesn’t exist for you, does it, Waffles?”
I grin, grateful for the interruption and also slightly resentful that the kitten cock-blocked me.
“She’s just making sure I behave,” I mutter.
Lilah’s smile falters just a little. “You’ve been nothing but kind and sweet.”
If she only knew how hard it is to keep my hands to myself, she wouldn’t say that.
I clear my throat and gently lower her foot from my lap before I do something we’ll both regret.
“You know what? I’m more tired than I thought,” I say with a forced yawn, rising to my feet. “I’m gonna take a shower and then hit the sack.”
Lilah tilts her head, a small frown tugging between her brows. “Oh. I thought we were going to go over your upcoming schedule.”
I nod toward the tablet on the coffee table. “It’s all there if you want to take a look. We can dive into it tomorrow.”
Before she can say anything else, I make a beeline down the hall like my ass is on fire.
The second I hit the bathroom, I plant my hands on the marble counter. Massaging her, hearing those little sounds she made, feeling her relax under my touch, was too damn much.
I stare at my reflection and know the truth without needing to say it out loud.
I am in so much fucking trouble where this woman is concerned.