The kiss kept returning in fragments. Luka’s hand fisted in my shirt. The rough catch in his breathing. The look on his face afterward, as though he’d stepped over a line he’d spent years trying not to cross.
A line I’d never once thought about crossing, and yet since those fragile minutes in my room, all I wanted was to do it again.
I cut through the courtyard with my hands shoved into my pockets, trying to focus on something else. Anything else.
All avenues kept leading me back to Luka’s mouth.
“Dean!”
I looked up to find Noah Bennett heading straight for me, grinning like he’d just won the lottery.
“What happened to you?” I asked. “You look suspiciously pleased with yourself.”
“Better.” He held up a bright yellow packet stamped with the Olympic rings.
It took me a second. Then I groaned. “Oh no.”
“Oh yes.” Before I could stop him, he dumped a handful of condoms into my hands. “Apparently they restocked.” Noah looked delighted.
I stared at the wrappers, then shook my head. “What exactly do you think is happening in my life right now?”
He snorted. “Please. Half the women at these Games would commit crimes for your attention.”
The image that flashed through my head was Luka pressed against me.
I nearly choked.
Noah kept talking.
I heard none of it.
A minute later he wandered off, leaving me alone with a pocket full of condoms and an increasingly ridiculous situation.
By the time I reached my room, I was still thinking about Luka.
I unlocked the door, stepped inside, and tossed my keys onto the desk. The condoms landed beside them.
For a moment I stood there staring at the wall, trying not to look at them, and especially not to think about them.
Then someone knocked. I crossed the room and opened the door.
Luka stood on the other side.
His composure looked as if it was hanging on by a thread. I could see it in the tension around his mouth, the restless movement of his hands, the way his chest rose and fell a little too quickly.
“Can I come in?” His voice sounded rough.
“Yeah.”
His gaze flicked down the corridor before he stepped inside.
I shut the door behind him. “Luka?—”
“As you Americans say,” he interrupted, a strained edge of humor creeping into the words, “let us not pretend I came here to talk.”
Despite everything, I almost laughed.
He didn’t.
