His hands are still resting on my waist. His eyes are locked on mine like he heard me thinking about him from across the damn city.
It feels unreal. Like I’d summoned him out of thin air.
He’s towering in front of me. I forgot how huge he is. Tall, like six-five. Broad shoulders, big hands. Muscles for days. That swoop of sandy hair falling in his eyes.
A dimple in one cheek as he almost grins at me. “Emma.”
His face is still healing; the bruising is lighter but still visible. The stitches on his brow have been removed, but a scar remains.
And just like that, the almost-smile fades. The slight tilt of his lips is replaced with his usual, brooding stare.
It’s intense.
Intense in a way that makes my stomach clench, my pussy aching and wet almost instantly.
“Liam,” I finally manage.
“Hope this is okay,” he says, leaning in to talk in my ear since the music is loud.
I nod, meeting his eyes. They’re dark in this light, but I know them. Green like sage, almost blue. Vivid against usually tan skin.
We start to move together as the next song kicks in, the bass thrumming through the floor and into my bones. I glance around, expecting to see Talia giving us the evil eye, but she’s busy, her arms looped around the neck of some guy nearly as big as Liam.
Maybe one of his teammates.
It’s too loud to try to talk, so we just dance. Closer. The air between us charged, every beat pulling me a little further under.
He doesn’t touch me the whole time, but I want him to.
Badly.
My nipples are hard against the fabric of my dress, and I’m certain I’ve soaked through my thong.
I have all kinds of thoughts about him fingering me right here on the dance floor, about him dropping to his knees and lapping up the wetness between my legs.
When I turn, pressing my back to his front, his breath catches. His hands slide lower until his palm is flat against my belly. The hard length of him presses against my back, and a shiver races down my spine.
For a long, breathless moment, the world shrinks to just us—the beat, his body, the pulse pounding in my throat.
Then, suddenly, Talia is there. She wedges herself between us, shoving at Liam’s chest. Her eyes have that wild, glassy look of a drunk person.
“Back off,” she snaps. “Get away from her.”
Liam lifts his hands, his tone calm. “Easy.”
I give her a look, embarrassed that people are looking at us. I turn and leave the dance floor, and both Liam and Talia follow me.
Once we’re in a quieter spot, Talia grabs Liam’s arm. “Whatever this is, it ended years ago,” she says. “Why are you even here?”
Liam looks at her, then at me. I think he wants me to step in, but I’m wondering the same thing.
“Just a coincidence,” he says, seemingly reading my thoughts. “I’m here with my teammates. We won tonight. Out celebrating.”
“Well, go celebrate somewhere else,” Talia says. “Shoo.”
He looks at me again, and I can see hurt there. I stare at him and realize this is so crazy.
Liam is my past.
