I understood then why he’d left the words untranslated.
I pulled him against me, and Luka buried his face in my neck.
Neither of us said anything.
Across the room, my gold medal hung from the chair where I’d left it.
I never looked at it once. What Luka had told me was worth more than gold.
I was the one place Luka no longer had to hide.
Chapter Thirty-Four
February 14
Luka
I woketo the sound of running water and Dean humming.
I toyed with the idea of joining him in the shower, but dismissed it. Slippery tiles and sex, right before an event? A disaster waiting to happen. Besides, I was warm, comfortable, and my hip was no longer trying to attract my attention. Instead, I lay there listening to him, straining to hear the words, and when I finally caught them, my heart felt as though it would burst.
He was singing ‘All of Me’ and one line about loving all my curves and edges made me smile. Only Dean could find a love song that managed to work in skating terminology. Then I caught my breath when more of the lines registered.
He couldn’t have found a more perfect song, and I still couldn’t believe the path my life had taken.
I never believed I could have all of this.
Before Milan, wanting someone had always felt dangerous. That was the simplest way to explain it. Wanting led somewhere, eventually.Inevitably. And I had never believed I could afford the consequences.
So where does that leave me now?
“You’re awfully deep in thought over there.”
I jumped. Dean watched me from the bathroom door. I hadn’t even heard the shower stop.
He walked over to the bed, a towel around his hips.
A thin towel that did little to hide his arousal.
I smirked. “You are not subtle.”
To my surprise, he didn’t react as I expected.
Dean sat beside me on the bed with our hands linked between us, his thumb moving across my knuckles as though he could smooth tension out of me by touch alone.
“I’m curious,” he said after a while. “Where did you disappear to just then?”
I watched our joined hands instead of looking at him. “Would you say there have been many women you wanted?”
“Wanted how?”
“Sexually.”
He chuckled. “Okay, that’s a very different question.” He leaned back against the headboard, still holding onto me. “Then yeah. There’ve been a few.” He tilted his head. “What about you? Men?”
The room felt warmer suddenly. Or maybe that was only me.
“Yes,” I admitted. “But wanting was always where it ended.”
