Chapter 50 Not a Miracle but A Case of Incurable Toxic Masculinity

Luke stared down at the dazed woman in his arms and finally recognized her. It was the same woman he'd run into a few days ago at the hospital stairwell—the one who had taken a cigarette from him. Back then, she had looked small and fragile while sitting alone on the steps, smoking like an abandoned stray. Pitiful was what he thought of her. Now, she was completely different. Her cheeks were flushed a deep pink, her lashes fluttered against her damp skin, and her forehead was slick with sweat, messy bangs clinging to it. Her lips, slightly parted, released hot, shallow breaths and a few soft, subconscious whimpers. Her hands moved aimlessly, clutching at him. With a rough rip, she yanked open his shirt collar. A broad, sculpted chest was exposed to the cool night air, skin gleaming under the streetlights. Beside them, Leo stood frozen, eyes wide, jaw slack in shock. Leo was practically screaming inside. Normally, Luke was as cold as ice and completely uninterested in women.