Stealing Home(23)

“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 fucked 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.

“Hey, Doc.” Reynolds’s gaze immediately shifted my way as I stepped out of the bathroom. “Morning.”

“Oh great.” I crossed my arms and tried to ignore Luke watching me. Even just looking at me, he could fluster me. “You’re calling me Doc now too?”

Reynolds shrugged. “Everyone is.”

“Beautiful. Shepherd ought to love that,” I muttered, casually scanning the floor to find that, somehow, Luke had managed to kick all evidence of an all-night sexathon under the bed. Except for . . .

Before my heart leapt into my throat, Luke moved toward the wrapper and discreetly stepped on it to hide it from view.

“Wow.” Reynolds’s forehead creased when he took a good look at me. “You look like he rode you hard and put you out wet. Forgive the analogy.”

Luke was behind Reynolds, so he was free to laugh silently. I didn’t have the same luxury.

“Forgiven,” I said, moving toward my training bag to look busy. “And good for you for knowing what an analogy is.”

“He didn’t give you a hard time, did he? Archer can be a real hardass when he puts his mind to it.”

My fingers fumbled with the zipper as I pulled the bag open. Luke continued to chuckle to himself across the room. “He gave me a pretty hard time.”