Chapter 27
Chapter Twenty-Seven
MADELINE
The door sticks before finally opening with a groan. Luke catches it with his shoulder and holds it open for me.
“You have keys to everywhere,” I say, stepping past him into the dark. “Let me guess. My room too?”
He shrugs, a half-smile on his lips. I can’t tell if he’s joking, but I laugh anyway. My voice echoes off the empty bleachers.
The rink glows faintly as emergency lights cast long shadows across the ice. He flips a switch, and the boards light up with a soft blue glow, just enough to see.
We decided to skate to burn off some energy. I love that we both enjoy this.
I sit on the bench and start to unlace my shoes, but Luke kneels in front of me and gently moves my hands aside.
“Let me.”
He loosens my laces, taking my shoes off and placing them to the side. He nods for me to stick my foot in the first skate that he’s placed on the ground in front of me. I shove it in.
He lifts my foot, placing the skate between his knees, then tightens the laces just right.
He repeats the same process for my other skate.
There’s something comforting about the routine and the care he takes.
With him kneeling in front of me, I notice his hair and smile.
It’s still messy from the car, from my hands.
I hadn’t wanted to stop, but things were getting out of control fast. I wouldn’t have minded, if we weren’t in a random parking lot where anyone could see us.
“There,” he says, the light catching his eyes.
Watching him lace my skates has me thinking about how he came for me today, how scared he was, and how he didn’t try to hide it.
For a grumpy asshole, he lets me see all kinds of sides to him.
I should do the same. Georgia told me this morning I should think about why I’m pushing him away and if it’s the right direction for me.
It’s not. I’m not one to hide away, but with Luke I am.
“My dad never did this,” I say quietly. “Never checked where I was. Never worried like that.”
Luke looks up, hands still on my skates.
“After my mom died, he just stopped caring about a lot of things. He went through the motions. My sister tried to help, but she had her own life.” I never let her know how things really were at home after she left for college.
“I made our meals, did my homework even when I didn’t understand it, and learned not to depend on anyone.
” I swallow. “I decided I’d never let someone matter that much.
To depend on a person so deeply. Never fall in love.
What if I lost them? What if I ended up like him, just existing instead of living? ”
Luke cups the back of my neck, his grip firm and calming. Without saying a word, he lets me know he won’t let me run from him. While Luke and I were raised worlds apart, there are some strong similarities about our childhood.
“I can see that. You’ve got a tough shell, Buttercup, but you’re all sweetness underneath. You care deeply about the people you love.” He really sees me. “Are you going to let that fear control you?”
“Or I could let you control me,” I tease, but Luke doesn’t smile. He knows I’m not trying to run from this conversation.
Luke stands and pulls me up too. His hands rest on my waist.
“What are you feeling right now?” he asks.
I look at him, this boy who tracked me down, who left practice for me, who laces my skates like they’re the most important thing in the world.
“Now, I’m terrified,” I admit. “Because I’m all in, Luke. I don’t know how to do things halfway. And if something happens to you—”
“It won’t.”
“You don’t know that.”
He pulls me closer until our foreheads touch, his breath warm against my skin.
“Then we’ll be terrified together,” he says. “But I’m not going anywhere. And neither are you.” I love hearing him say that.
We step onto the ice and glide to the center of the empty rink. For this moment, I let myself believe him. I turn myself over to him, trusting he’ll take care of my heart the same way he has everything else when it comes to me.
“All right, Buttercup. Why don’t you show me something?” Luke says as he pushes off backward, facing me. “Impress me.”
I laugh, my voice echoing in the empty rink. “You hockey boys! Everything turns into a competition with you.”
“It’s hard not to when you’re always winning.” He gives me a cocky but playful grin. But he has reason to be cocky. He kills it on the ice and often almost kills others on it too.
I do what I know these giant-ass athletes can’t. I take off, picking up speed, feel the familiar glide, and then launch into a simple spin. It’s not fancy, but it’s clean. When I stop, he’s watching, eyebrows raised.
“All right,” he says. “My turn.”
He takes off, trying to copy, arms outstretched, blades scratching loudly. He makes it halfway around before his edges betray him, his arms windmilling. I slide over and catch his elbow, steadying him, both of us laughing.
“Smooth,” I say.
“All right, brat.”
He retaliates by challenging me to a race, laps around the rink.
I already know I’m not going to win this even with my long-ass legs to help: his power against my control, him winning on the turns, and me almost catching him on the straightaways.
I think he let me. Next time I’ll bring my hockey skates.
Give him a real run for his money. We’re breathless, cheeks flushed, all the shit from today sliding off us with every push.
Finally, he slows down, grabs my hand, and pulls me backward so I’m facing him.
We glide together, his fingers tangled with mine, the ice whispering under us.
We don’t say anything. It’s just movement, breath, and the quiet of being together in this place that’s ours.
Doing something that we’re both good at.
I thought skating would burn off the sexual tension from earlier, but I’m finding that’s not the case.
I may have seen Luke skate before, but actually being on the ice with him, I can feel the power with each stride he takes.
Without the padding on, I can see the way his muscles flex with the movements.
I’m more worked up now than I was in the car earlier, and that’s saying a lot.
“You keep looking at me like that and I’m going to take you down to the ice.
” His words penetrate the haze I was in.
The one where I was imagining the way he would look with his broad shoulders between my thighs, his muscles flexing as he made me his.
“Would you like that, Buttercup?” I lick my lips. I would, but I’m all sweaty.
“I’m kind of gross,” I admit.
“Shower it is,” Luke says, his voice rough. “They’ve got facilities here.”
I look at him. The shift hangs between us, playing to something else. Should I say yes? I want to, and I really don’t want fear to rule, so I jump.
“Okay.” Luke sucks in an audible breath. “Didn’t think I was going to say that?”
“Buttercup, I promise you keep me on my toes.”
“Is that a good or bad thing?”
“Both.” He takes my hand, leading us off the ice to remove our skates.
The locker room gleams with polished wood and brushed metal. There are individual stalls with nameplates and leather benches. The shower area is tiled in slate gray with several showerheads overhead. Glass panels separate each shower, frosted for privacy. Everything here feels expensive.
“Is this okay?” he asks as he flips a switch and the water comes on, cascading from above in wide sheets. He tests it with his hand, adjusts the temperature, and then turns to look at me. Really look.
I nod. “Yes. This is okay.”
He crosses the space between us, slow and deliberate. “I want to undress you. Can I?” I nod, fighting back shyness. “We only go as far as you want. Got it?”
“I got it, Luke.” I place my hand on his chest. “I trust you.” All of his actions toward me, while often a little over the top, are with the intent of not hurting me.
His fingers find the hem of my shirt and lift it over my head.
His eyes track down my body, hungry and reverent.
He unhooks my bra and slides it off my shoulders.
Then my leggings, my underwear, kneeling to pull them down my legs.
I stand there, exposed, and watch him watch me.
I’ve never been naked in front of a man before.
I thought I’d be uncomfortable, but the way Luke is looking at me has me anything but.
He stands and quickly sheds his own clothes; shirt over his head, revealing broad shoulders, defined abs, and the V of muscle cutting down his hips.
I don’t miss the shadow of bruising along his ribs from playing such a physical sport.
Hockey has made him powerful, every line of him hard and purposeful.
He pushes off his pants and boxer briefs and stands before me, just as exposed.
And then I see it. His cock, thick and heavy against his thigh, way bigger than I expected, almost intimidating.
I try not to stare, but my eyes keep drifting back, wondering how that could possibly fit inside me.
He catches me looking, reaches down, and gives himself a slow stroke, smirking.
I swear I almost come just watching. The ache between my thighs grows unbearable.
The need for him is beyond anything I’ve ever felt before.
“Like what you see?” he asks, his voice low.
I swallow, heat flooding my face. “It’s... a lot.”
He laughs softly and steps closer. “I’d never hurt you.” I believe him. He’d never want to hurt me.
Luke takes my hand and pulls me under the spray with him.
The water runs hot over my shoulders and my back. Luke reaches for the soap, lathers his hands, and starts with my shoulders. Slow. Thorough. Massaging me while washing me clean.
His rough palms slide down my arms, my sides, and my stomach.
He covers every inch. Worshipful, almost. It’s a sweet torture that I’d sign up for every day.
With each brush of his hand, my breasts start to feel heavier, my nipples hardening.
The ache between my thighs is dying for Luke to stroke it away.
I take the soap from him and return the favor, taking my time to wash his chest, his shoulders, and the scar on his ribs I have never noticed before. Water streams over us, the only sound besides our breathing in the room. The quiet somehow heightens the experience.
His fingers linger, making my breath catch. I can sense the shift before he sinks to his knees in front of me. I grip his shoulders as his hands grip my hips and press me back to the tiled wall.
Slowly he slides his hands over my hips and thighs. He bends down farther to wash my calves and my feet, then stays there. He looks up at me through the water streaming down his face.
I know what he’s asking without words.
“Luke—”
He doesn’t answer. He just sets the soap aside, his hands sliding back up my thighs, parting me. His mouth follows, hot and insistent. His tongue finds my clit, circling slowly and deliberately, and I gasp, fingers finding his shoulders and his hair.
His tongue slides farther down and stiffens to thrust into me. In and out, driving me crazy.
“Luke, please.” He gives me what I need, his mouth returning to my clit, sucking gently but relentlessly. One thick finger slips inside, curling, finding a spot that makes me cry out with pleasure.
He doesn’t rush as his mouth responds to every sound I make, every shift of my hips.
My head falls back against the tile. My legs tremble.
He holds me steady, his fingers working, mouth devouring me.
It’s all I can take. The orgasm explodes through my body; I come apart, my moans echoing raw and unguarded.
He stays there, pressed against me, until I stop shaking. Then he rises and kisses me slowly and deeply, letting me taste myself on his tongue.
I reach between us, find his hard cock pressed to my stomach, and wrap my hand around it. “My turn,” I whisper.
He catches my wrist, gentle but firm, and shakes his head. “Not tonight.”
“But—”
“This was for you.” He kisses my forehead, my temple, and the corner of my mouth. “I wanted to take care of you. Not expecting anything back.” Who the hell is this man? I bet no one has ever seen this side of him but me.
I look at him. My pleasure was the only thing that mattered. Something cracks open in my chest, warm and overwhelming, and tears prick my eyes.
“Luke—”
He sees it, pulls me close, and water runs over both of us. “Hey. None of that.”
I bury my face in his chest, breathing him in. No one has ever made me feel this safe. This seen. This cared for without strings. It’s marvelous and overwhelming at the same time.
“Thank you,” I whisper.
He holds me tighter. “Always, Buttercup. Whatever you need.”
Luke turns off the water and wraps me in a towel, drying me as if I’m the most precious thing in the world.
Then he dresses me like I’m fragile. I let him, too overwhelmed with emotion to say anything.
The drive back to campus is quiet. His hand stays in mine on the center console, and I don’t let go, not even when we park.
“Luke,” I say, stopping him before he opens his door.
He turns to look at me.
“I’m all in,” I tell him. “Whatever this is, whatever comes next, I’m not going anywhere.”
He leans over and kisses me, soft and slow. “Me neither.”
We walk back to the dorms together, fingers laced, the case waiting, the world waiting, but for this moment, just this, we have each other.