Page 139 of Make Me Yours
42
STEELE
Now that Lilah’s in my arms, everything finally settles. I tighten my hold, wishing I could absorb some of the weight she’s carrying and make it my own.
“I’m worried this will damage your career,” she whispers.
I pull back just enough to look at her before tucking an errant lock of hair behind her ear. “You think I give a damn about hockey right now?”
She tries to smile, but it doesn’t quite land.
She’s concerned.
All the positivity and excitement from earlier this morning has vanished.
I’ll be damned if I allow anyone, including her mother, the media, or some faceless internet troll to steal her sunshine.
Especially when she was just starting to turn a corner.
Fuck that.
I press my lips to the top of her head. Her body fits against mine like she was made to be there as we stand in the quiet of the living room. The city beyond the glass is gray and cold, a reflection of the storm brewing inside her.
I wrap my arms tighter around her before whispering against her temple, “I think you need a distraction.”
She huffs out a dry laugh. “From what, exactly? The internet branding me a victim or my mother disowning me for not wanting to be a lawyer?”
“From all of it,” I murmur, tightening my hold. There’s a part of me that’s afraid she’ll slip right through my fingers if I’m not careful. “Let them talk, baby. While they’re busy judging, I’m the one who gets to be here with you.”
She stiffens slightly. “Steele…”
Instead of letting her finish, I scoop her up into my arms.
Waffles stirs from her spot on the couch before lifting her head lazily and glancing our way. Then she curls back up like she knows what’s coming next and refuses to be part of it.
Smart cat.
Lilah stares up at me. “What are you doing?”
“I’m taking care of you,” I say simply. “That’s all I’ve ever wanted to do.”
I carry her through the penthouse to my bedroom, not stopping until we’re in the bathroom. Only then do I set her down gently and step away just long enough to turn on the shower, adjusting the temperature until steam rises in the air.
When I turn back around, she’s watching me with wide, questioning eyes.
I reach for the hem of her shirt, lifting it slowly and giving her every chance to stop me if it’s not what she wants. My hands are careful as I peel the fabric over her head and let it fall to the floor. I take my time with the rest of her clothing, touching every inch of bared skin that gets revealed. There’s no rush or roughness. Only patient, steady devotion. I want her to feel it every second and in every part of her.
The way she deserves.
By the time her clothes have been removed, she’s trembling. Not from anguish but from the kind of anticipation that leaves your entire body buzzing with need.
“You’re so damn beautiful,” I murmur, letting my thumb graze her hip bone.
Then I strip off my own clothes and lead her into the shower until the warm spray cascades over us. Lilah releases a sigh as the water hits her.
I reach for the shampoo and lather it into my hands before moving behind her. She tilts her head back, allowing me to massage it gently into her scalp. After rinsing it out, I repeat the process with the conditioner. My fingers comb through her hair until the strands are silky soft to the touch.
Lilah leans back against me when I finish, her muscles loosening, as if she’s finally letting go. I press a kiss to her shoulder and then another before trailing my mouth along the side of her neck until she turns her face toward mine.
