Page 89 of Power Play

“Why did you have a marker in your end table?”

“Because I do the Sunday crossword puzzle in bed.”

“And you use a marker? Are you a serial killer?”

“Last I checked I wasn’t.”

“Those answers are very enthusiastic.”

“Do you want me to scream them?”

“I wouldn’t hate it.”

Liam laughs and tugs me toward the bathroom. When he looks at me over his shoulder, I feel a shift in the universe. Like something is changing, but I can’t figure out what.

And when he smiles at me, I feel it in my heart too.

TWENTY-FOUR

LIAM

I wakeup to an empty bed.

Judging by the moon shining through my window, it’s still nighttime. I reach over to the side where Piper fell asleep a few hours ago. She was curled around me, her hand on my chest and a leg thrown over mine, snoring softly.

And I… just kind of stared at her.

Like a certified creep.

Which, in hindsight, is super fucking weird, and I’d rather die than tell her I know how many freckles she has across her nose.

There are twenty-fucking-three.

Her hair was wet and her face was makeup-free from our shower. She was warm. Soft. Really fucking nice to have in my arms, and… I don’t know.

I haven’t had a woman in my bed in years. I haven’t held anyone in years, and it was nice not to be alone for once. To not fall asleep thinking about my job or the games we have this week or if I hit my protein goal for the day.

I wanted to enjoy the simplicity of it all for a minute because Ineverget to enjoy stuff like this.

The sheets are still warm, and I wonder if she snuck out because she was afraid of things being awkward.

I don’t blame her.

Going from no interaction with men to giving him a blow job and sleeping over is a big jump.

I sit up, glancing around the room and searching for a trace of her. My eyes snag on her dress in a ball on the floor, and it gives me hope she’s still here. Kicking the sheets off, I stand and fumble with a pair of boxers from my dresser before I start down the hall, looking for her.

“Piper?” I call out.

The kitchen is empty, and so is the guest room. The living room is also deserted, but a flash of color outside the windows catches my attention. I look at the balcony door and it’s half open.

I walk over, and that’s when I see her. She’s leaning over the railing, a blanket draped around her as she looks up at the night sky. Her hair is a wild, tangled mess and the socks on her feet are three sizes too big.

I push the door open and step outside. The December air bites at my skin, making me wish I threw on a sweatshirt before I left my room.

“Hey,” I say.

“Did I wake you?” She turns to look at me, her chin resting on her shoulder and a smile tugging on her mouth. “I thought I was quiet.”

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