“Oh.” Lia didn’t know what to say to that. Not while she was lying splayed out on Erin’s cotton sheets.
Erin shot her a warning look. “Don’t be weird about it.”
“I wasn’t going to be!”
Hazel eyes narrowed.
“I wasn’t.” Lia’s gaze was drawn to the base of Erin’s throat. “Are you sure you want to do this?”
“Little late for that, don’t you think?”
“I’m serious, Erin.”
Sighing, Erin curled a hand around Lia’s hip and tugged her closer. “So am I. Do you think you’d be here if I hadn’t thought things through?” Her lips ghosted across Lia’s, and then she kissed her, hot and hard. “I want this. Okay?”
“O-okay.”
“I do draw the line at you staying the night, though.” Though her eyes sparkled with mirth, Erin’s tone was serious. “I value my sleep too much to be kept awake by your snoring.”
“Excuse you, I do not snore. But I wouldn’t dream of it.” As intimate as they’d been with one another, waking entwined around one another would be a different level entirely. “I’ll go now so you can get your beauty sleep.”
She leaned forward to press one last kiss to Erin’s lips before slipping from her bed. The cold air made her shiver, and she was quick to locate her clothes strewn across the floor, dragging them on with the weight of Erin’s heavy gaze on her.
Once dressed, Lia hovered in the doorway, unsure of what to say. How did you say goodbye to the woman that had just made you see stars, whom you had to look in the eye on the football field in two days’ time? “I’ll see you at training on Friday?”
“I’m not planning on missing it. Goodnight, Lia. Happy birthday.”
Erin had given her a very happy birthday indeed.
* * *
“Goddammit!” Ayla kicked the ground with the toe of her Nikes as the ball slid past Albion’s keeper.
Around the stands, five thousand fans groaned in unison.
Fifteen minutes left in the game, and the score was tied at 1-1 in the League Cup semi-final. From her seat on the bench, Erin shook her head—they’d been too lax with the ball all game, too slow with their passes, and Aston Villa had punished them for it.
“Finch!” Ayla turned toward Erin, a frantic gleam in her eye. It was rare for her to show such emotion during a game, but she would not want her dream of the elusive quadruple to fail at the first hurdle. “Do your final warm-ups. You’re going on.”
“What?” Panic fluttered through Erin’s chest. She hadn’t expected more than a five-minute cameo in her first game back—ideally once the game had already been wrapped up, allowing her to string a few passes together, maybe have a shot on target.
She had not expected to be brought on to win the match.
“What’s the matter?” Ayla settled her hands on her hips. “Not ready?”
“No!” Erin leapt to her feet, shaking her head. “No, I’m ready.”
“Are you sure? It’s not like you to hesitate.” With narrowed eyes, Ayla’s gaze scoured Erin’s face. “Because if you’re not—”
“I said I’m good.” Before Ayla could argue further, Erin hurried off down the touchline.
Earlier, she’d jogged half-heartedly back and forth, knowing she wasn’t close to stepping onto the pitch. Now she sprinted, heart racing in her chest, feeling the buzz of anticipation in the crowd.
Three minutes later, Ayla was waving her over, and Erin shrugged off her jacket, leaving her in her crisp blue-and-white Albion shirt, the number eleven emblazoned on her back.
“Sure you’re ready?” Ayla asked one last time.
“I’m ready.”
