Chapter 14
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
LUKAS
Iknow she’s going to offer before she says it. It’s in the way she lingers by the car, keys already in her hand but not quite unlocking it yet. Her eyes flick to me and then away again, as though she’s working through something in real time.
“Do you need a lift?” she finally asks, sounding casual on the surface, but underneath, there’s a steadiness and a more deliberate tone.
I tilt my head slightly, studying her. “Merci, but I can get a taxi.”
“I know,” she says. “But you don’t have to.”
Her voice carries no hesitation or uncertainty, only a calm certainty I’m beginning to notice. I nod once and say, “Okay.”
The drive is quiet, but not uncomfortable. It feels charged in a way that has nothing to do with awkwardness and everything to do with the way my body hasn’t quite settled since dinner. Since her.
She drives carefully, both hands on the wheel, eyes on the road. But I catch the small things, like how she presses her lips together as if she’s holding something back. The way her fingers tighten slightly when we stop at a light.
I should probably say something to fill the quiet, but I don’t feel the need. So I sit in it with her. Because whatever this is, it feels better when I don’t try to control it.
We pull up outside my place sooner than I’d like. The engine idles for a second before she turns it off, and then the silence shifts.
“Thank you,” I say, turning slightly toward her.
She nods. “You’re welcome.”
Neither of us moves until I’m about to reach for the door handle, and she does something I don’t expect. She turns, leans in and kisses me. There’s no warning or hesitation, and she certainly doesn’t waste time testing the space between us.
For a split second, I freeze. Kate doesn’t kiss like she’s asking; she kisses like she’s chosen it. And it’s fucking hot.
My hand comes up instinctively, finding her jaw as I kiss her back, deeper and slower this time.
Letting myself meet her where she is instead of trying to take control.
Her hand slides to the back of my neck, fingers curling slightly in my hair, and my chest tightens hard enough to make me pull her closer without thinking.
The kiss shifts from surprise to something more intense and needy. She pulls back first, but only slightly, her breath still feels warm against my mouth.
“What the hell,” she murmurs, almost to herself.
I smile, still close enough for her to feel it. “That’s usually my line.”
She huffs out a quiet laugh, but there’s heat in her eyes when she looks at me again.
It’s my turn not to overthink now. “Do you want to come in?” I ask. I don’t make a habit of taking girls back to my flat, but right now, there’s nothing I want more than to see Kate in place.
There’s a flicker of hesitation. It’s quick, barely there, and gone in seconds. “Yeah,” she says. Just like that, it’s decided.
I step out of the car before she changes her mind and walk around to her side. Kate’s already out and moving, as though if she pauses, she might change her mind. I don’t give her the chance, and I reach for her hand, entwining her fingers with mine, gently squeezing in reassurance.
Inside, my flat is quiet. The kind of silence that wraps around you after a long night. She steps in slowly, taking it in without making a thing of it. There’s no awkwardness or self-consciousness.
I drop my keys on the counter, and when I turn back to her, she’s studying me. And then she’s moving again without hesitation.
Her hands find my hoodie, pushing it up, her fingers brush my stomach as she drags it over my head, and my pulse picks up. I let her continue, although I’m more than a little stunned, watching her like I’m trying to catch up. “You’re very direct,” I manage.
She meets my eyes, steady. “I don’t want to overthink it.”
“Good,” I say quietly, because I don’t either with her.
She steps closer, her hands sliding up my chest, slow and intentional this time.
It feels like she’s learning the shape of me instead of reacting to it.
I don’t rush her, I let her take the lead, and maybe that’s what throws me the most. Because I’m used to controlling this part, to knowing exactly how it goes.
Used to women who want the same thing I do. Fast, easy, and uncomplicated.
Kate isn’t any of those things. She kisses me again, her body pressing into mine as she makes peace with her decision.
My hands settle at her waist, grounding me in the feel of her. The heat of her body seeps into me, making me want this more than my next breath. The pace shifts again, just a little; it’s not rushed or frantic, but it’s intense. Every touch is meaningful and feels deliberate.
She shrugs her jacket off, dropping it somewhere behind her without looking. I watch her, a little dazed as confidence radiates from her, the heat shining from her eyes as she studies me.
“You’re quiet,” she says softly as she gazes at me.
I huff out a small laugh. “I’m adjusting.”
Her eyebrow lifts slightly. “To what?”
“You.”
That earns me a small but real smile. “Good.”
There’s something about the way she says it that makes my chest tighten again. Because she’s not unsure, and I realise, somewhere between her hands on me and the way she looks at me like I’m not just a hockey player or a distraction, this isn’t nothing to her. Even if she’s pretending it is.
But I can’t stop, not when she’s kissing me like this, drawing me closer as if she’s already decided this is worth it.
I walk her backwards without breaking the kiss, guiding her down the short hallway towards my bedroom.
She follows without resistance, her hands still exploring me, grounding me, certain.
And it makes me want to be careful with her in a way I’m not used to.
Even as everything between us heats up, even as control slips further from my grasp, that instinct remains.
When we reach the bed, I slow slightly, giving her space and the chance to change her mind.
She doesn’t take it. Instead, she pulls me down with her, and any last hesitation disappears as we hit the mattress.
The light in my bedroom is low, spilling in from the hallway behind us, soft enough to blur the edges of everything.
It makes her look different, real in a way I didn’t expect.
It momentarily catches me off guard, not because I don’t want it, but because I’m not used to being met like this. Kate doesn’t test the moment, she takes it.
My hands find her instinctively, one at her waist, the other at the back of her neck, as I kiss her back, deeper this time. There’s something sharp in my chest that feels dangerously close to losing control, and I don’t fight it.
“Kate…” Her name leaves my mouth rougher than I intend as my lips move along her jaw to her neck. She doesn’t flinch or retreat, if anything, she leans into it, and that undoes me. Because I’m used to leading this, I dictate exactly how it goes, usually, how far, how fast. Women who follow my pace.
Kate doesn’t follow. Not only does she meet me, but she matches me and pushes back in a way that makes me slow down enough to feel it.
“Don’t stop,” she murmurs.
I pause for a second, pulling back enough to look at her. There’s no doubt there.
“You’re sure?” I ask, searching her face for any sign of uncertainty. I don’t know why I ask. I only know I need to hear it.
She nods, brushing her mouth against mine again. “Yes.”
That’s all it takes. I kiss her again, slower this time, letting it build instead of rushing it.
My hand slides along her side, tracing her shape, grounding myself in the reality of this moment.
Everything about this feels different. More deliberate, as though every touch matters in a way I’m not used to.
Her hands move over me with that same conviction. She’s not afraid of what she wants. She’s decided this is happening, and she’s not going to overthink it. It throws me in the best way. I rest my forehead against hers for a second, both of us breathing a little harder now.
“You don’t hesitate,” I murmur.
She huffs a quiet breath, almost a laugh. “If I think too much, I’ll stop.”
I nod. “Then don’t think.” Because I don’t want her to stop either.
I guide her slowly, not rushing, but giving her space to pull away if she wants to.
She stays right there with me, step for step, until the edge of the room shifts and the rest of the world fades out.
Everything after that blurs into feeling more than a sequence.
Her breath catching against my skin. The way she holds onto me like she’s losing herself in me, and the way that makes something in me tighten unexpectedly.
And somewhere in the middle of it, I realise I’m not in control of this at all. I’m following her as much as she’s following me. It pulls every emotion out of me.
When she comes apart, it’s quiet, but it hits me just as hard. The way she clings to me as her breath stutters and her whole body softens against mine stays with me longer than it should.
I hold her through it without thinking. Too scared to let go. Not even when everything slows into something softer, quieter.
We end up tangled together, the room still and heavy in the aftermath, the noise of the outside world completely gone.
I lie there, catching my breath, trying to make sense of why this feels different, why she feels different.
She settles beside me, her head resting lightly against my chest. My hand moves along her arm without thought, slow, steady. It’s as though we’ve done this a thousand times.
Neither of us speaks for a while. I don’t feel the need to fill the silence, because it doesn’t feel empty. It feels full. It feels right.
She traces something absentmindedly across my chest; her touch is light and thoughtful, and I look down at her, studying the quiet shift in her expression.
“You’re not what I expected,” I say after a moment.
She glances up at me, amused. “I’m starting to hear that a lot.”
I shake my head slightly. “No, I mean it.”
She lifts her head and studies me. I can see she’s trying to decide what to do with that. Then she exhales softly and settles again, inching closer this time. Her legs are tangled with mine, and the sheet barely covers us. Without thinking, I pull it further up and over her.
I don’t question what we’ve done because I want to feel it and live in the moment. For once, I’m not thinking about what comes next or planning my swift exit. Because I just want to be here, with her.
And that should probably worry me more than it does.