Page 71 of Love Me

Carter: And you’re all pissed at me. Be pissed at Sawyer or Liam

Kinsey: Remind me again why I’m a part of this family?

Me: Blood?

Dallas: Birth?

Sawyer: DNA?

Carter: Genetics?

Me: Games about to start. Have fun watching from your TV

The massive scoreboard flashes above center ice, and the crowd goes wild as the players are introduced and enter the rink. Charlie sits up on her knees, cheering as the goalie takes his place in the crease. My heart swells some more knowing that she loves goalies because I used to play that position in high school and college.

The game starts and it’s chaos from the moment the puck hits the ice, Seattle coming in hot, which pumps up the crowd, everyone cheering and yelling. Charlotte covers her ears when it gets overly loud, but after a little while, she opens up and screams at the players with the crowd right behind her. When a two-minute penalty for slashing is called on Boston, Charlottescreams, “Get in the box!” and I about die right in my seat. Hannah and I lose it, our laughter drowned out by the crowd’s roars over receiving a power play so early on in the first period.

Any hockey game that I’ve watched prior to tonight has nothing on watching it with Charlotte. The game goes into double overtime, the three of us on the edge of our seats. This is where the goalies can really shine. We watch our player and hold our breath, Hannah and Charlotte repeating, “Don’t blink, don’t blink,” over and over under their breath. One of the best Boston players takes the ice, and Hannah’s hand squeezes mine tightly.

“He’s got this,” I reassure my girls. And thank fuck, the shot on goal is expertly deflected. The three rounds are quick, Boston getting one goal in, Seattle scoring two, delivering us the win on home ice. Charlotte bounds into my arms, squealing and screaming her excitement and joy, and I don’t think I’ve ever been happier than right now.

I hold Charlotte, standing and cheering as our players line up to show thanks to the goalie, and catch Hannah watching me instead, a look of pure awe on her face.C’mon, baby, see me. I’m it for you.

CHAPTER 22

hannah

Liam carriesCharlie into his house, laying her in the guest bedroom—a room that somehow has always been decorated for her—the dog jumping up and circling the middle of the bed where her still, small feet are currently under the blankets. She’s out cold, all of the excitement of the night having drained her completely, passing out hard on the long drive back to Aspen Ridge. I gently kiss her forehead, following Liam out of the bedroom, pulling the door so it’s only open a crack.

Liam grabs my hand, pulling me into his bedroom and shutting the door quietly behind us, flicking the lock. My heart starts thumping wildly in my chest, air getting harder and thicker to pull into my lungs, the tension in the room skyrocketing. He’s on me a moment later, his hands grasping my face, the calloused skin of his palms feeling rough against my smooth skin. Liam angles my head exactly where he wants me, his eyes heavy as they roam my face. He looks at me like he’s memorizing every single feature, committing them to memory, as if he hasn’t looked at me nearly every day for the last twenty years.

“Tell me what you want,wife.”

My heart gallops before nosediving into my stomach. Mother above, so help me, I want this man so badly.

“Kiss me, Liam.”

I watch as his lips pull into a small smirk that is too damn sexy for his own good, chocolate brown eyes still dancing all over my face, desire thick between us. His thumbs caress back and forth against my jaw, making my chest rise and fall, my panties dampening—just from the anticipation.

Liam leans in, rubbing his lips over the shell of my ear, a ghost of a touch that travels down the length of my neck, igniting goosebumps in its wake. I start to shift on my feet, my hands reaching out and grabbing a fistful of his T-shirt at each side, gripping, pulling him closer.

He still doesn’t give me what I want, his lips torturing me as they ghost over my sensitive skin. When his tongue traces the outline of my ear, his lips pulling the lobe into his mouth and gently sucking, I moan, my core clenching, wanting him so fucking bad.

“Take what you want, beauty. I’m yours.” The words are spoken low, husky, his warm breath on my ear tickling and turning me on further.

I snap.

Pulling him closer to me, I lift on my toes, wrapping my arms around his neck and hauling his face to mine where I capture his lips. That’s all he needed apparently, because Liam becomes just as feral as I am. In an instant, we’re a mess of hands, mouths, and tongues as we claw at each other to rip clothes off, teeth clashing together as we race to get naked and not break the connection of our kiss for a moment.

Liam’s body is a work of art, and I let my hands roam everywhere—his rounded shoulders, hard chest, toned abs. I work my way down, obsessed with his skin under my fingers, loving his reaction as he breaks out in goosebumps, his sharp intakes ofair as I explore new parts of him. When his dick jumps between us, my hand tentatively grasps it, running over the silky smooth flesh that’s desperate for me. Kneeling, I drag my hands over his hips and down his thighs, so ready to make him lose control like he’s done to me.

“Baby,” he breathes the word out roughly. “You don’t have to . . .”

I look up at him from my knees, his strong body before me, and I know without a doubt, there is no “have to” anything with this man. This is a want and a need.

“You told me to take what I want. This is what I want,” I tell him, sticking my tongue out and flicking his tip, licking across the slit and gathering the bead of precum there.

“Jesus Christ, anything for you,” he gasps as his hands thread through my hair to hold the strands out of the way.

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