But she could feel his eyes on her the whole way.
CHAPTER 30
Luke
Luke lay in the dark,eyes on the ceiling.
Down the hall, Grace was asleep in the guest room. Or he hoped she was. He hoped she felt safe. He hoped the locks, the alarm system, his presence—that it meant she could sleep peacefully.
He exhaled and turned onto his side, the sheets shifting against his bare skin. The memory of her on the mat flickered through him.
Not the fight. Not the technique. Her body, under his.
He hadn’t touched her like that in weeks.
And tonight, when she’d been underneath him—Jesus—he’d felt like a man walking a tightrope with no safety net. Every instinct saidmore,closer,deeper.
Luke rolled onto his back and dragged a hand down his face.
He shouldn’t be thinking about her right now. He knew that.
But his body ached for her. Not just in the way men did when they were alone in the dark, but in that deeper, sharper way—the kind that curled behind his ribs and stayed there.
He let his hand drift lower.
His breath caught as he wrapped his fingers around himself, already half-hard from nothing but memory.
Grace’s skin beneath his. Her knees bracketing his hips. The sound she made when he kissed just below her ear. The way she’d curled her fingers in his hair when she came, like she couldn’t decide if she wanted to pull him closer or push him away.
He squeezed his eyes shut, guilt threading through the heat blooming low in his belly.
He’d had that. All of her. And he’d thrown it away for appearances. For cowardice.
His grip tightened as his hips moved, slow, controlled.
His mind flooded with memories. Grace on the training mat an hour ago blurred into Grace in her bed that first night—shy and hungry all at once. Her body pressed against his, her skin soft and warm beneath his hands. The way her hips moved when he was inside her. The taste of her, the feel of her, the sound of her voice when she said his name.
He gripped himself harder, hips lifting.
Years of noticing her, wanting her, denying himself—and then finally giving in. Her body had responded to his touch like she'd been waiting for him too. She'd felt tight and wet and perfect.
His hand moved faster, his grip tighter. He could feel the heat building, the pressure increasing. He was close now, so close. He gritted his teeth, his body tensing as he fought to hold back, to make it last just a little longer.
But it was no use. The memories were too much, the need too great. With a groan, he let go, his hips lifting as he came, his release pulsing through him, hot and intense. He slumped back against the pillows, his body spent, his breath coming in ragged gasps.
As the pleasure faded, the guilt remained.
He missed her. He missed her touch, her taste, her scent. He missed the way she made him feel alive, the way she made him feel whole.
It felt good. But it also felt like punishment.
He cleaned up silently and tossed the cloth in the hamper.
Then he lay in the dark again, cold now, empty in a way that had nothing to do with sex and everything to do with the woman down the hall.
Luke rolled onto his side.
He would give anything to undo the moment he told her no.
