Lia turned back to face her, lips quirked into a smile. “But I’m sure we can think of something.”
It was as their eyes met that Erin recognised the feeling throbbing through her. It wasn’t pain, or a fever—it was want. Desire. After laying dormant for months, the impulse reared its head, making her palms clammy and her heart race.
Erin had forgotten what it was like.
But, oh, now she remembered; she ached. Months—nearly two years—had passed without feeling someone’s hands on her skin.
Had this attraction always simmered between them, beneath the surface? Was that why Lia so easily got under Erin’s skin? Had she been so blind for the past few months that she hadn’t noticed Lia awakening parts of her she tried so hard to keep buried?
“I’ve thought of something.” Erin barely recognised the timbre of her own voice. She should keep her mouth shut; she should stand; she should move away; she should not be thinking about—
“Oh yeah?” A cute crease of confusion appeared between Lia’s eyebrows.
“Yeah.” Before she let common sense take over, before she allowed herself to think it through, and before she could process what any of it meant, Erin leaned forward with the intention of crushing her lips against Lia’s.
A hand splayed against Erin’s sternum, stopping her dead.
“What are you doing?” Lia’s voice was a fractured whisper, her eyes wide.
Could she feel the frantic pounding of Erin’s heart? See the embarrassment that flooded through her at the rejection? It stung, but Erin refused to reveal how much. “I don’t know.” That was reckless, idiotic. What had she done? Erin leaned away from Lia, pressing her back against the couch’s armrest.
“I thought you didn’t go there with teammates.” Lia eyed her with a guarded expression, pulse thrumming visibly in her neck.
“I don’t.” Or, at least, she never had since Becca. For thirteen years, she’d never wavered in that conviction—until now. “I’m sorry. I wouldn’t blame you if you wanted to take this up with Shanice. Or Ayla. File a complaint.”
Another frown crossed Lia’s face. “Why would I do that?”
“That’s generally what I’d encourage someone to do when they’ve been harassed in the workplace.”
“Okay, first of all—this isn’t the workplace. We’re off the clock. And second—and most importantly of all—you haven’t harassed me, Erin.”
“Oh really? What else would you call whining about my injury troubles and then trying to kiss you without your consent?” Erin dropped her head into her hands. “Well, at least I’m not thinking about my leg anymore.”
“Erin…”
“You should go, Lia. Before I make even more of a fool of myself.” Unable to look at Lia, Erin kept her head in her hands. She didn’t want to see the expression on her face—be it pity or horror or sympathy. No, she wanted to crawl out of her own skin, wanted the floor to swallow her whole.
What had she been thinking?
“You haven’t made a fool out of yourself.”
“Don’t try and spare my feelings. Can you please go? Let me pretend that this never happened?”
“Is that what you want?”
“It’s what I need.”
With a sigh—and without another word—Lia stood and walked away. A few moments later, the door clicked shut behind her, and Erin let out a long, slow breath. The doctor had told her to get some rest, that sleep would aid her recovery, but there was little chance of that now.
She’d be too busy reliving the last ten minutes of her life, again and again, on an awful loop, and trying not to scream.
Chapter 12
Lia walked the halls of the Hotel Alanda like a ghost.
Her whole world had tilted off-kilter in the space of half an hour, sitting on a faded red couch in Erin Finch’s hotel room. Had it been a dream? The memory was already hazy. No way Erin had tried to kiss her, right? Erin, who insisted on not getting close to anyone, who would never lower herself to anything other than forced politeness with her teammates?
No, that Erin would never.
