Stealing Home(20)

Luke’s arms caged around my head, his head lowering until it was level with mine. “I wasn’t exactly expecting last night.”

“You weren’t?” I raised a doubtful eyebrow at him.

“Hoping, always hoping.” The corner of his mouth twitched. “But I didn’t think I’d worn you down anywhere close enough for that.”

“So I’m easier than I seem,” I teased. “My parents would be proud.”

He chuckled. “Thank god for that, because you had me worried we’d finally be doing it on my deathbed by the time you came around.”

“Yeah, that condom hiding in your wallet definitely would have exceeded its shelf life by then.”

“Although if you were ninety, I think your baby-making days would be over.”

I made a clucking sound with my tongue, running my hands down his sides. His skin was warm, and a sheen of sweat clung to him. “Ah, the perks of geriatric sex. I mean, sure, you might break a hip, but you can ride bareback without worrying about knocking a grandma up.”

Luke shook his head before kissing my forehead. “You’re strange.”

“Thank you,” I replied, right before the alarm on my phone went off. “Time for your bath.”

Luke groaned. “Can we just say we did and not?”

My hand dropped to his right leg, lightly curling around his inner thigh. The swelling had gone down some, but it was still inflamed. “Definitely not. You’re lucky you didn’t injure it worse with all of the thrusting you did last night. As it is, you’re lucky I’m not putting you on a two-hour rotation instead of a three-hour.” Ducking beneath the brace of his arms, I headed for my phone to turn off the alarm. It was seven in the morning, and the team was to head out from the hotel at nine. I had a lot to get done in two hours and, unfortunately, no time to do Luke anymore.

“I think your and my definitions of lucky are different.”

Laughing, I paused just outside the bathroom door to admire him. He was still buttressed up against the wall he’d just gotten me off on. The morning sun coming through the window across from him bathed him in golden light, almost making him glow, highlighting a body that hinted at perfection. When his face turned toward me, my breath caught in my lungs. This man could not be real. That this man seemed into me and almost made for me could not be real either.

When his smile crept into place, I accepted that, real or not, I was going to let myself enjoy this time with Luke Archer. No matter how brief it was, no matter how careful we had to be, I was going to enjoy it because life didn’t hand out an abundance of these kinds of experiences.

These were the kinds of memories people held onto instead of trying to forget.

“Thank you, Luke.”

His head tipped. “For what?”

My answer was forming when a pounding sounded on the outside of the door.

“Room service,” he said, snagging his sweats from the floor and sliding them into place.

“Good. I’m starving.” Pulling one of the hotel robes from the closet, I slid into it.

“Can’t imagine why.” Luke smirked at me before pulling the door open.

“You are so lucky I’m not Coach right now.” A voice I was not expecting broke into the room right before Reynolds did. “Because heads would roll if he saw you upright, starting with yours.”

Lunging the few steps into the bathroom, I shut the door and locked it. Reynolds hadn’t seen me, but that had been close. So much for placing such a high priority on being careful.

I’d just have to hang out in here until he left, and we’d have to implement a check-the-peephole policy before opening the door for anyone when I was traipsing around Luke’s hotel room, freshly f*cked and wearing a bathrobe.

“Does Eden know you’re up on your feet right now? Because I’d be more scared of her seeing you up than Coach.”

Shit. It would seem strange if Reynolds didn’t see me doing something that an athletic trainer who hadn’t spent most of the night naked with the man she was tending to should be doing.

Thank god I’d stuffed my suitcase in here last night. I could step out of the bathroom in clothes instead of a plush white robe with the hotel’s emblem and fine print that read Archer and I Got It On Last Night.

As I rustled through my suitcase, scrambling for a fresh set of clothes, I could make out Luke’s and Reynolds’s voices in the other room. It sounded like they were talking about the upcoming game, but there was a little too much adrenaline shooting through my system to focus on anything besides getting dressed before Reynolds got suspicious.

I’d guessed that if Luke and I kept this kind of relationship up for any kind of duration, someone would eventually figure it out—I hadn’t guessed it would happen less than eight hours later.

Once I’d wrestled into the usual khakis and team polo I wore during the season, I flew to the bath and cranked on the water. There were a few bags of fresh ice piled on the floor, so I started upending them into the tub while it filled.

After a couple of minutes passed and I was reasonably certain I’d composed myself and would be up to the task of convincing Reynolds I’d done nothing more than perform my role of athletic trainer last night, I moved toward the door. Luke and Reynolds were still talking about the upcoming game when I pulled open the door.