Page 55 of The Pucking Player

My mind goes into overdrive, conjuring images of the parade of supermodels and starlets that must have graced his bedroom. I’m probably the millionth girl he’s brought home. Do I measure up? Should I have worn racier underwear?

“You okay there, angel?” Liam’s voice cuts through my panic. His eyes meet mine. “Looks like your mind is racing a mile a minute.”

I nod, unable to form words. He reaches over, his hand squeezing mine. “Breathe,” he says softly. “Count to four on the inhale, four on the exhale. The thoughts will pass.”

His calm demeanor reassures me. I do as he says, the buzzing of the car and my breath the only sounds around us. Slowly, I feel the tension dissipate and leave my body.

“It works,” I say, after a while. “This could be golden during my exams. How do you know how to do that?”

He smirks, a hint of vulnerability peeking through his confident exterior. “Hockey players deal with a lot of pressure. We learn a few tricks along the way.”

As we drive, a question bubbles up, and before I can stop myself, it spills out. “How many girls have you brought home before?”

Liam’s eyebrows shoot up, but his composure doesn’t waver. “You’re the first,” he drawls slowly, his voice steady.

“I’m not buying that, big guy,” I scoff.

He chuckles, the sound low and warm. “I never bring girls to my place. It’s my sanctuary.”

I blink in surprise. “Oh. And yet you’re bringing me.”

“Yes. You’re special.”

I chuckle, not sure what to make of his admission. “So, it’s your first time then. I promise I’ll be gentle.”

He grins, his self-assurance back in full force. “Don’t you worry, angel, I can handle you. But I’ll admit, I’m a bit curious how it’ll feel, having you in my space like this.”

As we pull up to a sleek, modern high-rise, my jaw drops. “This is where you live?”

Liam nods, helping me out of the car. “Home sweet home. Ready for the grand tour?”

“Lead the way, O’Connor.”

We step into a lobby that looks like it’s been plucked from a luxury hotel. Marble floors, crystal chandeliers.

“Evening, Mr. O’Connor,” the concierge nods, eyeing me curiously.

“Hey, Tony,” Liam replies smoothly. “This is my girlfriend, Sophie.”

Girlfriend… I like the sound of that.

Does he mean for real or for pretend?

The elevator opens directly into his apartment. Floor-to-ceiling windows offer a stunning view toward the Manhattan city skyline. The space is open, modern, with sleek furniture and subtle pops of color.

“Wow,” I breathe. “This is...not at all what I expected.”

“Let me guess,” he laughs, “you were picturing neon beer signs and a foosball table?”

I raise my eyebrows, wandering into the living room. “Something like that. This is...tasteful.”

“Don’t sound so surprised,” he teases as he follows me. “I do have class. And enough money for a decorator.”

I spot a few framed jerseys displayed on one wall. “I see you snuck in some hockey memorabilia after all.”

“Couldn’t resist,” he admits. “Want the full tour?”

I nod, taking it all in. “Absolutely. Show me where the magic happens, O’Connor.”

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