Chapter 19
Nineteen
After filing her story and handing off her recorder, Cassie collapsed onto the stiff mattress in her hotel room.
She closed her eyes, but sleep wouldn’t come; every time she did, she saw Luke crumpled on the ice, his face contorted in pain, trainers rushing to his side.
Guilt and worry ate at her—she had been trained to stay detached, yet the sight of him being helped off had made her throat tighten.
She rolled onto her back and stared at the ceiling, one hand pressed over her heart as if that could slow its frantic beating.
Was he resting? Was he still hurting? She wanted to knock on his door with ice packs and ibuprofen and sit beside him until the lines of strain faded from his brow.
She wanted to smooth his hair back and whisper that he didn’t have to carry everything alone.
Instead, she stared at her phone, willing it to stay dark.
Her breath hitched. She traced the outline of his name with her thumb, mind racing.
Every rational instinct told her to ignore it, to protect her job and the rules she’d sworn to uphold.
Every other part of her—especially the part that kept replaying him wincing on the bench—ached to go.
She sat up, swung her legs over the side of the bed and paced, torn between duty and desire, between the reporter she had always been and the inexplicable magnetism she felt between herself and Luke.
Finally, she grabbed her key card and walked down the hall to the elevator, pressing the button for Luke’s floor.
She walked to the end of the hall to room 1127 and knocked softly.
Luke opened the door in a T-shirt, his left shoulder heavily bandaged.
His hair was damp from a shower. He looked vulnerable, smaller somehow.
“Hi,” he said, voice rough.
“Hi,” she whispered.
He stepped aside. She entered. The door clicked shut behind her. The silence was thick. They stood facing each other, the unspoken rules laid between them. Cassie felt tears prick her eyes. “This is a bad idea,” she said.
“Probably,” Luke agreed. “But I can’t…not say it.”
“Say what?”
He stepped closer. “That I think about you all the time. That when I’m on the ice, I look for you in the press box. That your articles are the first things I read in the morning. That I know this could ruin everything and I’m still standing here.”
Cassie inhaled sharply. Her chest ached. She thought about everything—ethics, career, trust. She thought about all the nights she’d rolled out of bed at 3 a.m. to file stories, about the travel mishaps and the loneliness. She thought about her editor’s eyes when he said perception mattered.
“Luke…” she began.
He reached up with his uninjured arm and gently cupped her cheek. “Just tell me if you feel it too. And then tell me to stop.”
He had to bend slightly to do it. Luke stood nearly a foot taller than Cassie, and she felt small and protected under his gaze. To meet his eyes, she tipped her chin up, the height difference adding to the electricity of the moment.
Cassie’s resolve crumbled. She closed the distance and kissed him.
The kiss started gentle but turned hungry as months of restraint gave way.
Luke's mouth was soft and insistent, tasting of mint and adrenaline.
He cupped her face, then let his hand slide into her dark hair.
Cassie responded, her fingers curling into his long, damp hair, drawing him closer.
They broke apart only long enough to breathe before their mouths met again, hungrier.
The air between them crackled. Luke stepped backward toward the bed, never breaking the kiss, bringing her with him.
His uninjured arm wrapped around her waist, anchoring her.
Cassie pressed herself against his chest, feeling the heat of his skin through the thin fabric of his T-shirt.
Her hands slid under the hem, exploring the ridges of muscle along his torso.
He gasped when her palms moved upward and grazed the tape on his shoulder, and she paused.
“Does it hurt?” she whispered.
“Only when you stop,” he murmured, and she laughed shakily, relief washing over her.
They took their time undressing each other.
Luke lifted her sweater over her head with his good hand, revealing a black, lacy bra that sent heat flooding his veins.
He kissed her exposed collarbone, then trailed his lips up the curve of her neck.
Cassie tugged at his T-shirt, bunching it up until he helped her pull it over his head.
She ran her palms across his chest, marveling at the planes of muscle, the scattering of freckles on his collarbone.
His hand splayed across the small of her back, pulling her closer.
Layer by layer they shed the constraints between them, until their fingers brushed over skin and fabric and their breath came in soft, uneven rasps.
Laughing softly as they fumbled with buttons and zippers, they each slid the other’s jeans down and kicked them away.
Cassie shivered as the cool air met her bare legs; Luke’s hands were warm on her hips as he helped her step free.
She returned the gesture, easing his pants over his hips and feeling the shiver that ran through him at the contact as they now stood nearly naked – she in just her matching black thong, and Luke down to his boxers.
The height difference between them made the choreography strangely intimate.
Cassie had to rise on her toes to kiss him fully; Luke, for his part, lifted her easily, her feet dangling above the carpet.
She wrapped her legs around his waist as he carried her to the bed, feeling through his boxers how hard he was growing for her.
When she leaned back to look at him, her head just reached his shoulder. The contrast excited them both—his broad shoulders enveloping her, her petite frame fitting perfectly against his length.
Luke gently laid Cassie down on his bed, taking a moment to gaze at her body before he joined her.
He stretched out beside her, their bodies aligning like puzzle pieces, and brushed a loose strand of hair from her face.
She reached up to cup his jaw, pulling him into a kiss that was both tender and charged with everything they’d been holding back.
His fingers traced the curve of her waist and up along her ribs, and she shivered at the contact, arching toward him.
For a long moment they simply breathed each other in, the rest of the world dropping away as they lost themselves in the warmth and connection between them.
“Are you sure you want to do this?” Luke said in his low, raspy voice, propping himself up with his right arm as his left hand traced the lace on Cassie’s thong.
Cassie reached up, brushed his cheek and met his gaze.
“Yes,” she whispered, her voice steady despite the flutter in her chest. “I’ve never been more sure of anything.
” Luke searched her eyes for any sign of hesitation and found none.
He brushed his lips against her forehead, then her temple, giving her every chance to pull away.
When she didn’t, he kissed her in earnest, pouring into it everything he couldn’t articulate.
Luke worshipped the lines of Cassie's body with his mouth, pressing kisses along her sternum, her stomach, savoring the way she arched toward him as he made his way between her legs.
She raised her hips, allowing him to slide her thong down her legs before he tossed it to his nightstand.
He first kissed her wetness, before parting her lips with his index and middle finger and pausing to take in the sight of her.
He licked her softly, slowly as her breath quickened, letting out a breathy moan as he slipped a finger inside of her.
Luke let his finger slide in and out of Cassie as he traced her with his tongue. Her hands gripped his hair, guiding him back to her and she kissed him deeply, relishing the taste of herself on his tongue.
“I need you inside of me,” she whispered, sounding desperate. “Now.”
Luke knelt back on the bed, sliding his boxers off, watching Cassie’s eyes grow wide as she watched every inch of him spill out.
He positioned himself back overtop of her, and Cassie wrapped her legs around him, urging him closer.
Luke braced himself with his good arm, his other hand laced with hers, their fingers squeezed tight as he slid himself into her, both gasping as they finally came together.
They whispered each other’s names, clung to each other, and let the storm they had held back for months wash over them.
When release came, it was shared. Cassie bit her lip to keep from crying out, and Luke buried his face in her neck.
Afterwards, they lay holding each other, skin damp, hearts racing, stunned by the rightness of it.