Page 82 of The Season
Just like I imagined.
“The guy who owns the gym,” Liam explains, dragging one hand over his face. “He’s really obsessed about water quality…”
My lips pull into a grin, even as my cock throbs jealously. “You came in the pool?”
He shoots me a dark glower, and my smile widens, cheeks pulling almost painfully.
“Shut the fuck up.”
Lily bites her lip, eyes dancing with mirth. I feel a laugh bubbling up in my chest, unexpected and rare. It fills the space between us, and Liam stares at me in shock for moment before his pale cheeks darken, and then he’s shaking his head, laughing too, a low rumble I feel against my bones.
I’m floating, effervescent as the little bubbles rising off our bodies. I’m spinning, drunk on heat and steam and Lily and Liam. An hour ago, I doubted Liam would ever speak to me again. Now… it’s like all the tension between us has transformed from sharp-edged ice to liquid warmth.
I’m honestly not sure this isn’t a dream. Some desperate hallucination born of years wonderingwhyandwhat ifandwould he ever. Of weeks of feeling something in me pulling toward Lily, like a planet orbiting the sun.
“Maybe he won’t notice?” Lily says hopefully, readjusting her swimsuit and turning to face Liam.
The move gives me a perfect view of the length of her spine, of the sleek muscles of her back, the round of her perfect ass beneath the water, and I palm my cock beneath my swim shorts, hoping to ease the throbbing ache.
“Maybe…” Liam doesn’t sound convinced, but he doesn’t look too worried. His gaze drops to my lap and he smirks. “Either way, we should hit the showers. It’s almost four o’clock.”
“Already?” Lily springs from the water, then stumbles, gripping the handrail to steady herself, legs trembling. “I need to pick up the guys.”
Liam rises beside her, one hand on her back, his brow dipping. “Careful. You’ve just been soaking in a hot tub for the past thirty minutes.” He bends, nipping at her ear in reprimand. “I’m not having you pass out on me. The guys can wait. Or catch the shuttle. Or walk.”
Lily gapes at Liam in mock outrage. “It’s snowing.” She tosses her wet hair over her shoulder. “I’m not making them walk home. Not when it’ll take me five minutes to pick them up.”
I don’t particularly like the idea of being separated from Lily, of watching her towel-wrapped form slipping through the doors to the women’s changing room. After what we just shared, it seems wrong to just leave her on her own.
“Come on,” Liam beckons to me, and I follow him, my eyes lingering on Lily until the doors of the women’s changing rooms swing shut behind her.
The moment we’re alone in the changing rooms, away from all Lily’s lightness and warmth, her teasing smile—all my self-doubts come flooding back. I’m sixteen years old again, staring at that fake name and number, wonderingwhy, why, whyas I mentally reenact every second of my first kiss. Wondering what went wrong. What I could have done better.
Lights hum overhead, cheap fluorescent that always makes my dark skin look ashy and washed out. I tighten my grip on the white gym towel as I head for the showers, my cheeks burning at the thought of being naked with Liam. Of being alone with Liam.
“Hey.” His hand finds the small of my back unerringly, hot as a brand, and I flinch, casting him a wide-eyed look that’s probably reminiscent of a startled deer. “Hey,” he says again, softer this time, edging closer to me, like maybe he really thinks I’ll run. “You good?”
I dip my chin, biting the inside of my cheek as I consider my answer.
“Come here.” Liam grips my shoulders, maneuvering me into one of the shower stalls. It’s a tight fit with the two of us, my shoulders nearly skimming the tiled walls unless I angle myself right. He latches the door shut then turns to face me, his gray eyes narrowed on me, cat-like, stalking.
It shouldn’t turn me on. Shouldn’t have my already aching cock going half-hard again beneath my towel.
He drops his towel, then his board shorts, never taking those eyes off me. I swallow, mouth suddenly dry, head still spinning from the hot tub.
“I’m sorry.” He says, the words coming out from behind gritted teeth.
My stomach flies to my throat, breath stuttering, eyes stinging, because for one horrifying moment, I think he’s going to say he regrets what happened with Lily. Withme.
There’s the sound of a locker door slamming, the grunting huff of some gym rat unloading his gear, getting ready for a workout. Liam scowls at the intrusion, then steps forward, caging me in, the chipped tiles cool against my back. Even though I’m several inches taller than him, the move has me feeling small, vulnerable, and my pulse quickens.
He reaches between us, pulling aside my towel, throwing it on top of his on the bench, then turns on the shower.
“I’m sorry about what I said the other day,” he murmurs, his voice nearly lost in the roar of the shower echoing off the tiles around us. “I’m sorry I’ve been such an ass to you.”
He strokes the side of my cheek, pad of his thumb tracing the tired circles under my eyes, his lips cutting a sharp disapproving curve at the sight of them.
How many nights have I stayed up reading—too late, far too late—in an effort to escape thoughts of him? It never worked.
