Page 17 of The Pucking Player

I falter mid-step, my breath hitching.

Liam.

He’s bundled up against the cold, a cashmere coat draped over his broad shoulders, a black knit hat pulled low over his ears, and leather gloves encasing his large hands. When he spots me, his face lights up with a grin that could power the entire campus.

He pushes off the car and saunters toward me, his movements unhurried but deliberate, like a man who knows exactly what he wants and isn’t afraid to go after it.

“Hey there, angel,” he says, his voice low and warm, like a secret meant just for me.

I stop dead in my tracks, my pulse kicking into overdrive. Every nerve in my body goes on high alert, buzzing with awareness.

“Liam?” I say, trying to keep my tone steady. “What are you doing here?”

He shrugs, his grin widening. “Figured you might want to thank me for the flowers and the chocolate.”

I blink, thrown off by his audacity, and then let out a laugh, shaking my head. “And you thought waiting out here was the best way to go about that?” I glance at his reddenedcheeks, noticing the faint puff of his breath in the icy air. “How long have you been standing out here?”

“Since around two,” he says, looking entirely too pleased with himself. “I know Coach has a family dinner every Sunday, so I figured you’d be heading out late afternoon.”

My jaw drops. “Liam, it’sfreezing!”

He waves off my concern, his blue eyes sparkling with mischief. “I’m good. Besides, a life without your phone number? Not worth living anyway.”

I roll my eyes, but damn it, the blush creeping up my neck betrays me.

That. Fucking. Charm.

“Well, thank you for the gifts,” I say, trying to sound composed even as my pulse races. “They were lovely, really. But I’ve got to go. My parents are expecting me.”

Liam’s grin doesn’t falter. If anything, it grows wider. And then, without warning, he steps closer—close enough that I can see the faint stubble on his jaw, close enough that his scent—mint and something earthy, like bergamot—wraps around me like a second coat.

Before I can back away, his gloved hand snakes around my waist, pulling me gently toward him. Despite the freezing cold, heat is crawling up my neck. My hips roll against him against my volition, my breath catching. A needy whimper escapes me.

“Liam,” I manage, though my voice is a shaky whisper.

“Shh,” he murmurs. His gaze flicks down to my lips, eyes flaring as if he knows how tight my nipples are under the thick coat and sweater, and how suddenly wet I am between my thighs. He smiles like the cocky asshole that he is, and without a warning, dips his head and places his mouth against mine in a tentative, gentle caress. It’s the barest ofkisses. He hardly touches me, just dusts those delicious lips over mine.

Without thinking, my lips part for him.

That’s all the invitation he needs. His lips capture mine, soft but insistent, and then his tongue sweeps into my mouth, hot and commanding, sending a jolt of electricity through me. I grip his coat for balance because my knees feel like they’re about to give out.

It’s not like the awkward, fumbling kisses I’ve experienced before. The kneading of lips, the hand at my breast, sometimes a boy trying to snake his hand under my skirt. This feels different. A million nerve endings come alight, a slow burn turning into an inferno. I let out a shuddering breath, and he slowly relaxes his hold.

“Nowthisis an appropriate thank you.”

He plants a few more slow, lingering kisses on my mouth, and I let out a shaky breath. “I can’t wait to have you all to myself,” he murmurs. “To explore every inch of you on my own time.”

Somewhere in the back of my mind, I know I should stop this—shouldstophim. But my brain has short-circuited, leaving me with nothing but the heat radiating between us and the dizzying rush of his kiss.

He pulls back slightly, his eyes dark and intent as he studies my face. “So,” he says softly, his voice threaded with confidence, “now that you know I’m serious, will you go out with me?”

Reality comes crashing back.

“Liam, I…” I step back, out of his reach, the cold air biting at the exposed skin of my neck. “I can’t. You and me… It’s just not a good idea.”

Before he can press me further, a group of studentsrounds the corner, their excited chatter cutting through the tension.

“Oh my God,” one of the girls squeals, her eyes locking on Liam. “Are you Liam O’Connor?”

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