Page 41 of The Savior

“Careful,” he said, low and disconcertingly.

She faltered, half tripping, half falling, still laughing and cheering as she hugged him in celebration. The spinning bar lights and dark shadows slowed the instant that he balanced her against his chest.

A heaviness over took her eyes, sliding them closed, and she inhaled a woodsy scent that mixed with a clean soapy smell that she was quickly identifying as specifically Liam.

His arms swallowed her, and if his shoulders were as broad as a mountain range, his stomach was solid as a chiseled boulder. She relaxed into his hold and clasped her hands around his back. The strong band of his arms tightened, and dipping his chin, Liam nestled his mouth dangerously close to her temple. Only the sparse shield of her hair separated his lips from her skin.

She tensed. He froze, and they scrambled apart filled with awareness that she would never admit to. Chelsea turned away, embarrassed and questioning what on earth she’d just done.

It was a hug. That was all. Perfectly harmless except for the unacceptable and overpowering rush of lust. Her stomach turned, but this wasn’t the kind of problem she could ignore, and she faced him. “I’m so sorry.”

He was almost too much to take. The green in his eyes had darkened. His forehead was etched with perplexed worry. “Don’t be.” He pivoted and threw the last dart. It hit dead center, and without so much as a second glance, he headed toward his beer.

Oh, sugar snaps. She’d messed up. Chelsea didn’t know what she could say, because it was how she’d reacted on the inside that required an apology. Simply hugging someone was, in and of itself, not a big deal. Admitting to how their hug felt? She didn’t want to ever think about her reaction again.

Liam slung back his beer then set it down. He stared at it so long that mortification crisscrossed her back. When he turned, his emerald eyes connected with hers in such a way that she cringed.

With that, he crossed back to her. Her stomach flipped, and she couldn’t identify his reaction.Anger? Disgust?Whatever emotion was painted on his face, it had a hold on him as she’d never seen on a person.

Gosh, she shouldn’t have gone to the bar tonight. Her hands covered her face, and when she glanced up, he stood close. She took a step back, but Liam stepped closer, breaking the distance she’d made.

“Look…” he began.

Oh no. Tears burned her eyes. She couldn’t listen to a pitiful explanation about how she shouldn’t hit on him, how he couldn’t be interested, how terrible she really, truly was, even if she had no idea before. “Please don’t be mad at me.”

He squinted then laughed. And not a basic, pitying laugh or a worried-for-her-sanity one, either. His head tipped back, and with a ginormous smile, he belly-laughed.

“Liam!”

He straightened, and his eyes watered.

“Liam! Donotlaugh at me.”

Finally, his hysterics slowed, leaving him shaking his head.

Chelsea whacked his chest. “I ammortified. You need to stop!”

“Things happen,” he finally said, whatever those unnamed, undefined things were.

“I climbed you like a celebrating monkey. That’s not a thing—”

“Oh shit.” The fierce laughter returned.

“Liam!” She stomped her foot like a pissed-off toddler. “Stop laughing.”

“A celebrating monkey.”

Gah!She couldn’t take another excruciating second of embarrassment and spun away.

His strong hand caught her arm, spinning her to face him, then both his hands rested on her shoulders. “Thanks.”

“What?”

“I forgot what it feels like to live, and in one night, you gave that back to me.”

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