“Because I’m exceptional.”

He huffed out a laugh. “You are that.” And then he was sliding down her toward the end of the table, trailing kisses to her navel and below.

“I didn’t mean for you to—”

He put his mouth between her legs, and a jolt of electricity flared through every nerve in her body. She shuddered and hissed and grabbed the edge of the table again as his tongue traced down and inside her, then swirled around her hypersensitive clit. A few more of his touches sent her raging into another orgasm as mind-bending as the one before. He sucked on her until he had wrung every ounce of response from her body.

She lay limply on the table, her legs draped over one end, her arms dangling over the sides.

“Stay here,” he said, stroking his hands down her thighs.

She moaned her agreement. It felt as though her bones had melted in the inferno he had generated inside her.

So she stayed, her body slowly easing down from the sensual heights Luke had taken her to, while he rustled around somewhere across the room.

When she finally mustered enough energy to prop herself up on her elbows, he was walking barefoot across the polished wooden floor toward her, his half-unzipped jeans riding low on his hips, a smile softening the angles of his face.

She let her gaze drift over his gorgeousness and saw for the first time the full extent of the bruising on his left side. Guilt made her sit up when he came near enough to touch. She skimmed her fingertips ever so lightly over the dark shading on his skin. “I keep forgetting you’re so hurt you can’t play. I shouldn’t have . . .” She couldn’t finish the sentence.

He caught her hand and brought it to his mouth to kiss. “Sugar, I haven’t thought about that injury since our dance together.”

Blood rose in her cheeks at the reminder of her public loss of control.

He hooked one arm around her shoulders and slid the other one under her knees. “Oh, no,” she said. “I’m not going to make it worse by letting you carry me.”

She felt his arms tighten.

“Do you want an elbow in your ribs?” she said. “Because I’ll do it for your own good.”

In one motion, he swung her off the table. “I’m betting you won’t carry out that threat.” He started walking.

“You called my bluff.” Miranda looped her arms around his neck to try to take her weight away from his injured side. The rock-hard muscles of his arms against her bare thighs and back made her skin tingle.

He brushed a kiss on the top of her head as he lowered her feet to the ground in the corner of the gym. “It’s not as good as my bed upstairs, but it’s better than the floor.”

At her feet was a pile of exercise mats, neatly covered with sheets and a blanket that must belong to the massage table. He’d rolled up two white towels into tidy cylinders to use as pillows. Something about the care that went into fashioning those pillows made tears prick behind her eyelids.

He wasn’t bundling her off to the limousine; he wanted her to be comfortable. With him. The makeshift bed, the way he treated his fans, his slouching posture in the theater—all the small, thoughtful gestures made her fall a little in love with him.

“That’s the nicest bed I’ve ever seen.”

He looked surprised, and she realized she’d been too emphatic. He gave her a wink. “If you get in, it will look about perfect to me.”

She knelt and pulled back the blanket so she could wriggle under it. Luke stripped off his briefs and jeans, the flexing muscles in his legs riveting her gaze as he knelt to slip in beside her. He rolled her on her side and spooned himself against her back, his arm lying heavily around her waist. He was so large that she felt engulfed by his body, soaking in the warmth of his bare, sweat-dampened skin pressed against her almost everywhere. Tucking her head under his chin, he let out a long breath. She could feel his muscles go slack in relaxation and wished she could see his face.

Was he falling asleep? Did he expect her to stay here all night?

“You comfortable, sugar?” His voice seemed to vibrate through her where his chest was fitted to her back.

“Comfortable might not be quite the right word.”

“Give me the right word so I know if it’s good or bad.”

“I might need several words.” She took an inventory of the happy glow still radiating through her insides, the warmth of him infusing her skin, the feel of his cock nestled against her bottom, and the solidness of his long legs intertwined with hers.

“Would three do it?”

“I’ll try.” She hummed for a few seconds before going with honesty. “Blown away. Amazed. Uncertain. I guess that’s four.”

His arm had tightened when she said uncertain.

“I’ll go with the first three,” he said, “but I’m certain this is a good thing.”

“What do we do next?”

“Well, sugar, we take a little rest, and then we find a better use for these machines than weight training.”

She glanced at the nearest contraption. It sported a padded seat with two upright cylinders attached to either side. She was pretty sure you were supposed to put your knees outside the cylinders and squeeze them together to lift the weights cabled behind it. The thought of herself in that position made liquid pool between her thighs. She shifted her gaze away.

His breathing slowed, and she found her eyelids drifting closed, her sated body dragging her down into sleep like an exhausted swimmer.