agreed to this insane mission, he was actually grateful. Getting Alexis to agree to his tagging along was going to be a chore, but part of him relished the challenge. She didn’t give an inch, and as frustrating as he found that sometimes, he actually admired that part of her. It made him want to know more, even though getting any closer to her was a goddamn mistake. “Roger that.”
“Thanks, man. I…know this can’t be easy on you.”
“I’m fine.” And he sure as hell didn’t need to be coddled. “I’ll keep you updated.” He hung up before Flannery could say anything else to insinuate that he wasn’t up to par. It wasn’t intentional, but that didn’t make it sting any less. The sad truth was that he wasn’t in fighting shape anymore. Nothing anyone did or said was going to change that.
Footsteps sounded in the hallway as he stuffed the phone back into his pack and dumped his dirty clothes onto the floor. She’d been right to figure out the laundry situation first. God alone knew where they were headed next. He didn’t relish the thought of walking around, smelling like several-day-old clothing.
Alexis opened the door and paused, her gaze going to the pile of clothes. “I found the laundry room.” She held up a plastic bucket. “And ice.”
He grabbed his last clean pair of boxer briefs and stripped down, ignoring Alexis’s shocked exhale. He might have no interest in jumping her bones right now—which was a dirty lie with her standing there, her wet dress clinging to her body until she somehow looked more sensual than if she were naked—but he was done hiding from her. If she turned away from his scars now, after what they’d done the other night, then she would only confirm everything he was so sure of when it came to her.
And if she didn’t turn away…
Alexis couldn’t move as Luke kicked off his pants. After how careful he’d been to make sure she didn’t see his scars the other night, he was stripping in front of her. One look at the angry challenge in his eyes and she understood. He thought she was going to shy away or flinch, and it was easier to go on the attack than to take it passively. Well, tough luck. Everyone had scars—his just happened to be physical, in addition to the mental load he so obviously carried around.
She was the last person who was going to falter when it came to other people’s issues. She had far too many of her own.
When he was finally naked in front of her, she let herself look her fill. God, he was magnificent. The scars only added to the picture, winding up his right leg and side, drawing attention to his narrow waist, leading up to a set of pectoral muscles that made her mouth water. Even his half-finished tattoo sleeves only created a picture of a man who was in the midst of change.
Kind of like her.
It wasn’t a comfortable realization, because it made her feel closer to him, and if his actions over the last few days were anything to go by, he didn’t want anyone closer to him. What were the odds that she’d go to Europe and end up spending time with a man who was just as broken as she was?
Luke held out his hands, as if asking, Well?
She shrugged. “I’ve seen worse.”
He blinked, the shock on his face almost hilarious. She knew better than to laugh, though. Who was the last person he let see him like this? I bet it was someone he was in love with. I bet whoever she was, she flinched away from him and added yet another scar to the mix. It was enough to make her wish she had the ability to reach back through history and slap the shit out of whoever she was—and Alexis had no doubt it was a woman. This level of almost-insecurity didn’t come from comments made from the same sex.
As they stood there, staring at each other, she had to do something to break the moment. It felt too fragile, too intimate. She couldn’t fix Luke. She couldn’t even fix herself. But maybe she could ensure that he walked away from their time together with a few experiences to mark in the “good” column.
After all, he’d already done the same for her.
Alexis held up the bucket of ice. “Why don’t you go shower and then put some ice on that knee?