There was no visible transition between one element and the next. The momentum simply continued, pouring through his body and into the ice beneath him.
I found myself watching the line of his edges instead of the element itself. The way he covered the rink. Every movement seemed to begin before the last one had finished.
Most skaters fought the ice a little, even the best of us. There were always tiny corrections, small negotiations between body and blade.
Luka didn’t look like he was negotiating. It was as if he knew exactly what the ice would do before he touched it.
Another turn, another edge, and now his shoulders opened as he crossed the rink, power rolling through him in controlled waves.
God.
No wonder people watched him. The confidence in it was almost unsettling.
For those few minutes, there was nothing hesitant about him. None of the caution that seemed woven through everything he did away from the ice.
This was the same man who measured every word, who seemed to think three steps ahead of every conversation.
Out here, none of that existed.
He simply moved, unstoppable and mesmerizing, and I couldn’t take my eyes off him. I watched him flow across the ice through another sequence, another turn.
Then Luka lifted his head.
Sweat darkened the hair at his temples. His breathing was heavier now, chest rising and falling beneath the fitted training shirt.
The effort had stripped something away. For once, all I could see was Luka.
My stomach dropped.
Hard.
Then he smiled.
It wasn’t aimed at anyone, and I didn’t even think it was deliberate. A jump landed exactly where he wanted it, and satisfaction flashed across his face before disappearing again.
The sight hit me with surprising force.
My pulse lurched.
Jesus.
That was new.
Luka pushed into another pass. His hair had come loose from whatever battle he’d fought with it earlier, damp blond strands falling across his forehead before he shook them back. His breathing was heavier now, color high in his cheeks from the effort.
My gaze caught on the curve of a smile that had already vanished, on eyes brighter than they had any right to be beneath the harsh arena lights.
My stomach dropped again.
Harder this time.
What the hell?
The feeling hit with more force the second time. My breath caught in my throat. Something shifted low in my stomach.
I pushed away from the boards, propelling myself towards the far end, as though distance would somehow help.
Before I could examine the reaction too closely.
