Page 54 of The Pucking Player

Adam’s voice cuts through my haze. “So, Sophie, how are your med school applications going?” His tone is a bit too sharp, his eyes narrowed as they flick between Liam and me.

I open my mouth to respond, but at that exact moment, Liam shifts slightly. His breath is hot against my ear as he whispers, “You okay there?”

Adam’s frown deepens, his protective big brother instincts clearly kicking into overdrive. “Sophie?” he presses, his voice laced with a hint of suspicion.

I clear my throat, trying to regain some semblance of composure. “It’s fine,” I manage, my voice embarrassingly breathy. “The applications are...um...they’re going well.”

Liam’s chest shakes with silent laughter, and I resist the urge to elbow him in the ribs.

Jessica, bless her, swoops in for the save. “Oh, let her be for once, Adam,” she says, rolling her eyes. “Can’t you see she’s busy? Playing her part?” she adds and winks at me, then turns to engage Adam in conversation, effectively distracting him.

I shoot her a grateful look, making a mental note to buy her the biggest, fanciest cappuccino I can find tomorrow. As the conversation shifts away from me, I lean back slightly, feeling Liam’s arms tighten around me.

Bastard.

He knows exactly what he’s doing to me.

Despite the orgasm, with every minute, my nerves are becoming more and more raw. I’m a quivering mess. My body is wound so tight I feel like I might snap at any moment. The slightest movement of his body sends sparks shooting through me. The heat radiating off him, the subtle flex of his muscles, the scent of his body wash mixed with his arousal—it’s all too much and not enough at the same time.

I’m vaguely aware that I should be participating in the conversation. But how can I possibly form coherent thoughts when Liam’s fingers are tracing patterns on my skin that feel like they’re branding me?

As the group finally starts to disperse, Liam leans in close, his lips brushing my ear.

“Let’s get out of here, angel. Let me take care of you.”

A whimper escapes me before I can stop it. All I can do is nod, my ability to form words long since abandoned.

As Liam helps me to my feet, my legs wobble like a newborn giraffe’s. He steadies me with a hand wrapped around my waist, the blaze of his palm searing through my clothes.

We start saying our goodbyes, and I pray no one noticeshow breathless I sound, how glazed my eyes must be. But as we turn to leave, Adam steps in front of us, his eyes narrowing as they flick between me and Liam.

“Where do you think you’re going?” he asks, his voice low and menacing.

I open my mouth to respond, but Liam beats me to it. “Relax, Novak. I’m just giving Sophie a ride home.”

Adam’s jaw clenches, clearly not buying it. “I’ll take her.”

“Her dorm is on my way.” Liam shakes his head, his face the picture of innocence. “I’ll make sure she gets home alright, big brother.”

Adam looks like he’s about to argue when Jessica suddenly appears at his side, looping her arm through his.

“Oh, back off, Adam,” she says, rolling her eyes. “Don’t be a caveman. It would look weird if Liam let Sophie be driven home by someone else after she sat on his lap all night.” She lowers her voice conspiratorially. “The press catches inconsistencies like that.”

Adam’s frown deepens. “But?—”

“No buts,” Jessica interrupts, giving his arm a squeeze. “Remember, we’re trying to distract from the PEDs story. Sophie sitting on Liam’s lap and then leaving with him will be perfect fodder for the sharks.”

I shoot Jessica a grateful look as Adam’s resolve visibly wavers.

Finally, he sighs, running a hand through his hair. “Fine. But straight home, O’Connor. No detours.”

“She’ll be safe with me.” Liam pats him on the back, the picture of sincerity.

As we make our way out of the bar, Liam’s palm never leaves my back. I catch Jessica’s wink just before the door swings shut behind us.

The cool night air hits me like a shock, the aircreeping its icy tendrils under my coat. Liam guides me to his car, opening the passenger door, and I wordlessly slide into the seat, the butterflies in my stomach now feeling more like a flock of caffeinated seagulls. An awkward silence descends. His hand finds its way to my thigh, and suddenly I’m hyper-aware of what I’m doing.

Going home with Liam O’Connor. To fuck.

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