Chapter Twenty-One
Fallon
The past few days feel like a fever dream. First, we flee Menorca, taking the longest route possible to get back to the UK. Next, Maya has a run-in with her evil ex, and after a massive palaver, we end up back in the hospital, hopefully for the last time in a very long while. Everything that has happened doesn’t feel real; it’s like something from a soap opera. You wouldn’t think I was just an average hairdresser from the Midlands.
That leads me to now, waking up in Luke's car. I must have fallen asleep the moment my arse hit the seat. It didn’t take much for him to convince me to go home with him tonight, or should I say today? The sun is just rising, lighting the sky with all its warm, beautiful colours. Turning my head, I gaze over sleepily to look at Luke. The golden rays peaking through the clouds make him look all the more handsome. Ican't tear my eyes from his chiselled jaw that’s covered in dark stubble.
And here I am, looking and smelling like a sewer rat. How embarrassing. Yet, the smile he sends my way as he gives me a once-over shows that he couldn’t give a bigger shit what I looked like. He's just happy to see me.
“Do you mind if I jump in the shower before we sleep?” I say, stifling a yawn. “I don’t think I’ve washed in three days, I feel gross.”
“I like my girl smelly,” he gives me a wink.
“You’d like me any way,” I laugh.
“That’s true. Come on, baby. Let's get clean and get you rested.”
He pulls me along behind him. My heavy feet are dragging as I trudge along. The feeling of my hand in his is something I didn’t realise I’d missed. He’s warm and strong, making me feel safe with such a simple gesture.
Once we’re inside his place, his grip on my hand doesn’t loosen. Instead, he walks me straight through the house to the en-suite in his bedroom. Without saying a word, he turns the shower on, the steam from the jets filling the room almost instantly. He starts to unbutton his dress shirt, and those glorious tattoos of his are finally visible for me to see.
“What are you doing?” I ask.
“We’re taking a shower together. It’s more economical this way.” His smile is devilish.
“Sure, that’s why we’re doing it,” I laugh.
“I have gone weeks without hearing your voice, so what if I want to spend a little more time with you?” he says, dropping his shirt to the floor.
Who am I to argue with a sexy man wanting to undress in front of me? I could think of worse ways to shower, and one with him sounds perfect to me.
I start ridding myself of my own clothes, until eventually, we’re both standing before each other completely naked. But the weird thing is, my eyes don’t stray from his. The pair of us are locked on each other. My beautiful, kind, caring doctor. Lifting his hand, he curls his fingers around the back of my neck, his thumb stroking my cheek. I feel bare for him, and it has nothing to do with the lack of clothes. This feels so intimate. More so than sex.
“You’re stunning, Fallon,” he whispers, before leaning close to place a gentle kiss on my lips.
My palms, on instinct, come up to rest on his pecks. The heat of his body, the softness of his kiss, all cause my eyes to well with tears. I am so fucking tired. Tired of being strong, tired of keeping myself at a distance from him, and tired from the sheer lack of sleep. Unable to fight it, I rest my forehead against his chest, needing the comfort and the warmth he brings.
After a beat, he pulls away and stares down at me. He must see the exhaustion on my face, “Let's shower.”
Stepping under the stream of hot water, my muscles instantly ache in joy. There is no better feeling than this. It’s like a reset. If I were home alone right now, it would most definitely be a sit-down shower kind of moment.
I glance around, looking for a bottle of his shower gel, when I realise he is already pouring some into his hand.
“Turn around, baby, I want to wash you.”
I am definitely too tired for sex right now, but I know that the moment his hands touch my body, that'll instantly change. My hair is still sitting on top of my head, the messy curls as neat as can be, which isn’t neat at all. But it's good enough for him to lather up my back without getting any of the soap in it.
His strong fingers massage the knots that have built up in my shoulders, his thumbs adding pressure in the most perfect places. I can't control the groan I release as he works his way up to the top of my neck. Luke’s hands are something special.
Once he has finished with my back, he moves on to my legs, then my arms, and finally my front. It’s so strange, you'd think this would be sexual, but it isn’t at all. It's intimate, being taken care of in such a way that it makes my heart beat double time. Not once did he try to do anything further than that, and it makes me like him more.
When he's finally finished with me, I step under the shower to rinse off all of the soap suds. By the time I step out from under the water, he’s already soaped up his full body.
“I wanted to do that for you,” I pout, my bottom lip popping out.
“This was about you, not me,” he says, leaning in to lay another soft kiss on my lips. “Get yourself dry, and I’ll be right out. I’ve left a towel on the rail for you.”
I brush past him as I leave him in there, to find the towel cosy and warm from the heated towel rail. God, he thinks of everything. Is this how all normal gentlemen act? Or is he just something special? Because I have certainly never met someone like him before. Maybe that says more about me and the usual type I go for. Childish dickheads.
