33. Luke

Chapter 33

Luke

B y the time I get back to my condo, my entire body feels like it's gone through a meat grinder, and I can barely keep my eyes open. The endless drills, the sparring on the ice, and the pressure to prove myself drained every last bit of energy I had. I’d worked until I could hardly move. My legs feel like dead weight, along with the rest of me. A tight knot of pain in my back pulses with every step.

As I stumble to my place, the hallway seems to stretch out endlessly before me, each step heavier than the last. All I want to do is to collapse, hopefully on my bed, but I’ll even take the floor, and then maybe sleep for a week. As I approach the door, I see a familiar silhouette, her face bathed in the dim light from the hallway.

Keke. She was back.

She turns at the sound of my footsteps, and in that moment, I forget about the bruises and the dogged ache in my bones. All I can see is her. All I can feel is the memory of her tucked next to me in bed.

She takes me in, her eyes narrowing in concern. “What did you do to yourself?”

I let out a rough laugh, leaning against the wall for support. “Just a little too much practice and too many drills.”

She doesn’t buy it, her expression hardening as she loops an arm around my waist and guides me toward the door. “A little too much practice, huh? You look like you went twelve rounds in a boxing ring.”

“Feels like it, too,” I mutter, trying to ignore the way every muscle protests as I move. “But I’ll be fine. Just need to lie down.”

She opens the door and helps me inside, her hand firm and steady on my back as I stumble through the entryway. Her touch is warm, grounding. For the first time all day, I relax. The adrenaline from training, the competitive drive that had kept me going, it all fades under her touch.

“Let’s get you cleaned up first,” she says. “Let me draw a hot bath so you can soak.”

I shake my head, wincing as the movement sends a fresh hell of searing pain through my neck. I stretch it, and every joint in my neck cracks. “A bath sounds great in theory, but I don’t think I can get in and out of the tub right now. Standing’s already pushing it.”

“Then I’ll run you a shower. A quick hot one will do you some good.”

She walks into the bathroom, her movements quick and efficient as I slowly follow. She turns on the water, adjusting the temperature. She doesn’t hesitate, she just takes care of it. Takes care of me. And for a guy who’s spent most of his life dodging responsibility and avoiding real connection, the simple act feels like a revelation.

I lean against the sink, watching her as she readjusts the water, testing it with her fingers to make sure it’s just right. Even if she won’t marry me, I could get used to this, used to her being around.

“Come on,” she says, pulling me out of my thoughts. “Let’s get you in there before you collapse on the floor.”

She helps me out of my shirt, her hands gentle as she eases it off my shoulders. Her fingers linger on a bruise near my collarbone, her touch so light it barely registers, and for a moment, I forget about the pain. It’s just her, her hands on me, her face so close I can see the worry in her eyes. “Don’t do this again, okay?”

“Do what?”

“Don’t let them hurt you like this.”

I shrug, shoulders barking at me immediately. “That’s the job.”

“Then it’s a stupid job.” God, she was full of fire when she said it. So angry and protective on my behalf that it almost felt like love.

I push the thought away as best I can. Whatever she feels for me, it isn’t enough to say yes. Not yet anyway.

I step into the shower, letting the hot water cascade over my aching muscles, feeling the heat soak into my skin. I let out a groan of relief, closing my eyes as the tension begins to melt away, bit by bit. I don’t even realize she’d joined me until I feel her hands on my shoulders, her fingers moving in slow, careful circles.

I open my eyes, meeting her gaze as she stands in front of me, the water streaming down her face, her long red hair slicked back. Water runs down her breasts in rivulets and I want to lick each one off of her, inwardly cursing that I don’t have the energy. She looks at me with an intensity that makes my breath catch, her hands careful as she begins to gently wash me.

She doesn’t say anything else, doesn’t ask why I’d pushed myself so hard. She simply moves with a quiet determination, her fingers tracing over each bruise, each sore spot, as if trying to absorb the pain herself silently and magically.

I lean into her touch, letting myself relax under her care. It feels like a balm to every raw place in my soul. I let it all slip away, just for a moment, letting her shoulder some of the weight for me.

She leans in, pressing a kiss to a tender spot on my pec, her lips hot and soft against my skin. I close my eyes to focus on her touch.

“Keke,” I murmur, reaching for her, wanting to pull her closer, to feel her heat against me.

She kisses another bruise, her lips trailing over my collarbone and down to my chest, each touch sending a rush of fire through me that has nothing to do with the hot water. She looks up at me, her eyes dark and full of want that makes my heart race.

But as much as I want her, as much as I crave her, I know my body isn’t up for anything beyond standing upright at the moment, and for that matter, I can barely do that. I reach for her hand, squeezing it gently, a weak smile on my lips.

“As much as I’d love to…” my voice low, rough, “I’m way too tired to keep up with you tonight.”

She gives me a melancholy smile, her fingers trailing over my bruised shoulder. “Then let me help you.”

Before I can say anything, she reaches for the soap, her hands moving with a slow, careful rhythm as she begins to massage my shoulders, her fingers working into the knots of tension that had settled there. Her touch is soothing to the jagged edges in my body, and my mind.

We stay like that for what feels like hours, her hands moving over my shoulders, down my back, tracing the lines of tension and fatigue with a tenderness that leaves me breathless. Her presence is like nothing I’d ever felt before. It’s supremely intimate, and for a moment, I let myself believe that maybe this can be enough. That when it comes to Keke, I’ll take whatever she can give me.

Just then, she pulls back, her hands slipping from my shoulders as she looks up at me, her face shadowed with something I can’t quite read. “There are other ways I can help you feel better.”

Keke drops to her knees in front of me, her mouth on me in seconds. She licks up and down my shaft, trying to wake the beast. If anything will do it, it’s that, but I have nothing in the tank, no wind in my sails, a dead audience in the mezzanine.

“It’s not personal,” I try to explain. “I’m just utterly and completely exhausted.”

She smirks up at me, making my breath catch in my throat. She cups my sac and massages me there. Then, she takes me into her mouth again, fully swallowing me as she gazes up through her long lashes to watch me.

Seeing her like that is enough to rally my soldier.

“Mmm, fuck,” I growl low in my throat. The dull throb that had set up shop in the rest of my body culminates into something else, sending pulses outward from my abdomen. She’s magical, or at least, her mouth is.

She takes my hand and guides it to the back of her head, not breaking her pace at any point as she slides up and down my cock.

I gulp, not wanting to misread the gesture. “You want me to take the lead?”

“If you’re up to it,” she mumbles against me before going back at it.

This woman will be the death of me, and I’ll gladly accept that fate. Slowly, carefully, I move in her mouth. I can’t thrust too deep—that will only wreak more havoc on my body. But feeling her lips wrapped around me is more than enough. My cock maps out the roof of her mouth, her tongue, the back of her throat… seeing her pink lips wrapped around my shaft sends me to the edge, and I find myself close to ecstasy.

My balls lift and tighten as she plays with them, and I’m blissed out of my mind. I grunt, “Fuck, I love you.”

She keeps at it, sucking, gliding, squeezing, taking everything I can give her.

I warn her, “Soon.”

She hums, “Mm-hm,” and keeps going.

That sends me over the edge, and I lose control as she swallows every drop. My knees buckle, and I slap the wet tile for balance. I don’t fall, but I come close.

As I stand there, panting and utterly wrecked, I think of what I want to do to her, for her. How I can make her feel this fucking good. I didn’t have it in me, but I could use one of her toys. Anything to see her come again and again until she’s as limp as she just made me.

Keke stands and gently kisses my lips before turning and exiting the shower. As beautiful as the last several moments were, I understand she still needs time, and I will give it to her. Even if that means waiting forever to hear how she feels about me. She already shows me with her actions, her body, the way she cares for me. I can handle not hearing those three little words.

What concerns me most is knowing that someone, somewhere, hurt my girl bad enough for her to lose faith in romance and love. I feel a sense of anger at that. Not at Keke but at whomever has caused this fear and hesitation that I’m faced with now.

I stand there, my mind racing, my heart aching as I watch her go, feeling the weight of her pain settle over me. I want to chase after her, to make her feel my love, but I know it’s not that simple.

Keke has walls, walls she’d built long before I ever entered her life, and breaking through them will take time and a willingness to fight for the impossible.

I will not give up on her. Not now. Not ever.