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Lydia
When they stumbled into Luke’s place, Lydia attempted to look around, to take stock of her surroundings, but all attempts were thwarted by the sensation of Luke’s hand as it shifted up the back of her shirt. She trembled against him, shaking the last of her coherent thoughts free. She wasn’t quite sure how they’d gotten here. Yes, of course, she knew how they’d gotten here, in Luke’s apartment. But how had she gotten here, in his arms? Here, where his lips were like embers against her skin? Here, where she was practically begging him to take her clothes off?
It would be easy to blame Ashley for putting the thought in her head today, but the truth was, the thoughts were already there. Part of her had already acknowledged how handsome Luke was, how kind, how supportive. And seeing him tonight, in his element, surrounded by a community he cared deeply for and who appreciated him just the same hadn’t dulled those feelings. If anything, seeing him at what she imagined was his best had been more attractive than anything. She’d been tiptoeing around this attraction since the moment he’d crashed into her life, but she’d thought she had it under control. Maybe if Luke hadn’t so brazenly encouraged her flirting tonight...I’ve got muscles to spare.
That was the moment everything shifted. And now she was telling herself that everything would be back to normal when they woke up tomorrow. They could go back to being Trainer Luke and Trainee Lydia. It would be fine. Besides, what was Luke always saying? Just focus onthisrun, on the next step you have to take. Well, tomorrow felt a million miles away and right now, tonight, this felt like the next step.
“This is my living room,” Luke said huskily against her ear as he pressed soft kisses along her neck.
Lydia found the hemline of his shirt, tugging it free of his jeans. “It’s nice.”
He chuckled. “I haven’t even turned the lights on yet.”
“Don’t bother.” She turned her head to capture his lips again. Exercising may have given her endorphins, but kissing Luke made her feel like she could fly. When her legs bumped up against the arm of the couch, she glanced over her shoulder to make sure there was nothing in her way, then let herself topple backward. Luke tried to grab her, to steady her, and she giggled at the brief look of panic on his face as she landed on the cushions.
Light poured in from the street, but the apartment was still dim, just Luke’s silvery figure moving through the darkness. “That wasn’t funny,” he said, smacking her foot where it rested on the arm of the couch.
“It was kind of funny,” she said, lifting her foot from his hand and placing it firmly in the center of his chest.
“I actually thought you were about to fall and smack your head on the coffee table.” He huffed a laugh. “That would have permanently traumatized me. I’d never be able to have sex in my apartment again.”
“I probably would have needed stitches,” Lydia agreed, grinning. “I can totally see you not being able to get it up after living through that. You would have had to move. And moving is such a hassle.” Luke looked like he was trying not to swear and she giggled some more.
“You’re meaner than I thought.”
“I’m sorry,” Lydia said, stroking her foot down Luke’s front, stopping above the waistline of his jeans.
“I don’t think you are. I think you would have enjoyed traumatizing me.”
“You’re probably right.”
“I think you should make it up to me,” he said.
“How exactly should I do that?”
Luke walked through the living room and took a seat on the other end of the couch, forcing her to sit up and turn around in order to see him. He reclined into the corner, looking perfectly content as he studied her. “In any way you like,” he said, his voice low and gravelly.
Lydia’s entire body reacted to his words. She wanted to grab him by the collar and haul him down on top of her. She wanted to writhe beneath him until he gave her exactly what she wanted. But he was too far away, and judging by the smile on his lips, he knew that. So instead, she crawled toward him, putting both hands on his thighs as she leaned in for another kiss. “I’m sorry,” she said.
“I don’t think I believe you yet. But keep trying,” Luke whispered, and the invitation in his voice was the equivalent of beckoning her with his finger. Lydia’s heart skipped.
“Is this better?” she asked, straddling him, one hand on the back of the couch to steady herself, one hand on his shoulder.
His hands fell to either side of her waist and squeezed gently, those roughened palms slipping beneath her shirt. “Much better,” Luke agreed as he started to rock her on his lap.
In the shadowed light bleeding in from outside, his eyes were almost black. Lydia got lost in his dark gaze, heat throbbing between her legs. She threw her head back, lost in the sensation. The tension was so tight, so delicate, she worried it would snap before she reached the pinnacle of this feeling, but some subconscious part of her trusted Luke. She trusted him with her body every single time she stepped into the gym. This was no different.
She could trust him to make her feel good.
Luke pulled her hips down with a little more force than before, grinding in all the right places. Lydia’s eyelids fluttered as her jeans pressed between her legs, and a moan bled from her lips. Lydia was no stranger to the occasional hot and heavy one-night stand, but it was rare that a guy had her this turned-on before he’d even taken her clothes off.
Luke leaned forward to nip at her neck. “Thatsounded like an apology.”
God, this man. Lydia bit her bottom lip, eyes closed, and moved against him, replicating what he’d done moments ago. This time they both made desperate little sounds, sucking in the same air. Tomorrow, when she looked back on this, wondering why she was so desperate, she’d blame it on all the pent-up sexual frustration born of endorphins and flirting. Then she would forget this ever happened. But tonight, she wanted to hear him. When Luke’s hands began to venture up her shirt, Lydia gave in to the desperation and pulled it over her head, tossing it on the floor. Luke’s hands fell back to her hips, and when she caught his eyes, she could tell he was simply drinking her in. In a moment of unfettered vulnerability, her stomach dropped like she’d just been flung over the edge of a cliff, but the butterflies in her gut caught her.
“Take your hair down,” he said, and she did, loving the electric chill that surged through her at his request. She shook her head, letting her hair cascade over her shoulders.
Luke reached out to twist a few strands of hair between his fingers. Then his hand slipped over her shoulder and down her back, tracing the path of her skin to her bra clasp.
