by R.S. Grey
Did they put steroids in the punch? Was that why I felt like fighting someone?
"Hey, Kinsley! Why'd you stop?" Becca caught my attention over the music. I tilted my head to where Liam was standing and her eyes followed the trail.
"Ahhh," she nodded. "Looks like it's time to swap these girls out for a pair of super hot guys." Becca grabbed my hand before I could protest and then pulled me over to where a small wooden coffee table sat in the center of the room. It was a cheap, IKEA knock-off, so I didn't really protest when Becca pulled me on top of it.
We were raised a foot above the rest of the party then and my first instinct was to find Liam again. I wanted to know if he was still talking to the girl or if he’d spotted me, but then Becca pulled my hand, throwing me off balance for a moment.
"Here!" she said, handing me her cup of punch since I'd set mine down a while ago so that I could dance with free hands. I downed the contents of her punch like I was taking a shot and then set the empty cup down on the table.
A seductive pop song started playing through the speakers and I lost myself in the movements of my hips, my arms, and my swaying body. It didn’t take long at all for guys to start shifting toward the table. Like moths to a flame, they could sense how tipsy Becca and I were. I moved as if Liam was dancing with me, as if he could feel my hips gyrating from side to side.
"Wanna dance?" a guy asked as he sidled up next to me. He was tall enough that we were almost level while I stood on the table. I glanced toward Becca and she gave me a thumbs up. A guy was already approaching her as well.
"Sure," I shrugged, hopping down from the table with his help.
And so it began— a string of guys that were bold enough to ask a random girl to dance. I didn't let any of them stay past one song. I'd smile and twist out of their grasp, reaching for Becca and pretending to be too drunk to care when they asked for another dance. They weren't actually into me; they just wanted a pretty thing to grind their dicks against. Seriously. I'd rather just dance with a group of girls than have random guys dance with me.
Becca ditched her last partner as well so we were back to dancing by ourselves.
"Can you do the Stanky Leg?" Becca asked, trying to show off the move. I tried to copy her, but I ended up just looking like my leg was cramping up.
"No! That's so terrible, Kinsley. You should stop before someone calls an ambulance," Becca laughed, putting her hands on my shoulder and forcing me to stand still. We were standing like that when I spotted Liam moving through the crowd. His dark eyes were locked on me as he slid through the dancers. His presence threw my balance out of whack, like I needed to hold onto someone or I might fall into him. Good thing I had Becca.
"Kinsley," Liam murmured when he stepped up to us. He was forcing me to acknowledge the situation and his pull over me. I wet my lips and shifted my gaze toward him. He wasn't alone. His teammate, Penn, stood alongside him. I hadn't seen him at any of the previous parties, but he was Liam's best friend. They'd played together on the LA Stars for five years and they were often interviewed together on various talk shows.
If there was anyone on the LA Stars team that could give Liam a run for his money in the looks department, it was Penn. He was just as tall as Liam, with dark brown hair and a Crest commercial smile. That smile was currently aimed directly at Becca.
I peered from him to her and almost jumped for joy. She was staring at him too, visibly caught in his trap with her mouth slightly open.
Complete goner in 3…2…1.
"This is Penn," Liam said, more so to Becca than to me.
Penn nodded and took a small step closer to Becca. If I'd ever experienced instant attraction, these two had it in spades. Becca usually had a funny comment on hand, but in that moment she was completely quiet, just nodding gently and staring up into Penn's brown eyes.
"You guys should dance," I offered, and Penn shot me a confident smile before raising a brow in question.
"Becca?" he asked, stepping toward her.
Becca peered at me for a quick second and I knew she was a melting at the very thought of getting to dance with him. Her hazel eyes were practically clouded over in lust for this guy.
Penn offered his hand to Becca and tugged her through the crowd. I watched their bodies disappear behind dancers until I couldn’t see them anymore. That's when I realized how awkward it was that everyone around us was dancing, but we were standing still. Silent, brooding, and with so much hanging in the air between us I could have reached my tongue out and tasted it. What would buried attraction taste like? Rich dark chocolate.
We were both being immature, waiting for the other to speak first. I couldn’t meet his eye; I wasn’t sure I’d keep it together if I did. I wanted to ask him who the girl was. I wanted to ask him what he wanted from me that day.
We were in dangerous territory, in a crowd of people that shouldn’t know Liam and I had any sort of relationship beyond coach and player. Both of our reputations depended on it.
"I just came out here so that Penn could meet Becca. He was interested in her," Liam explained, finally breaking the silence between us with a harsh tone.
I glanced up to see his brows were furrowed, and I knew he was in his standard brooding mood.
"Oh good, you can leave then." I narrowed my eyes on him, challenging him to say something.
Instead he took a step toward me and wrapped his hand around my waist, gripping it in his palm. His fingers dug gently into my skin and I bit down hard on my bottom lip.
He pulled me toward him as he bent lower. Our faces inches from one another.
"You look good dancing with those guys, Kinsley. You should keep letting them touch you," he said with a harsh tone. He was pissed. Beyond pissed.
"At least they’re not afraid of what they want, Liam," I murmured, trying to step out of his grip. He tightened it and then twisted me around so that my back was pressed against his chest. His arm wrapped around my waist, and suddenly I was a victim to my body. I wasn't going anywhere, even if I wanted to fight him.
"They don't want you. They think you're sexy, but they don't know you," he clarified, pressing his lips to my ear. I closed my eyes and turned my hips in a slow circle. If someone had glanced over they would have thought we were dancing. Our bodies were moving slowly against one another, but in reality we were waging war. When I pressed my hips back against him harder, he groaned angrily in my ear.
"And what about the girl you were talking to earlier? Does she know you or does she just think you're sexy?"
"You don't get to be jealous, Kinsley. We aren't together," he bit back, gripping my waist in his hand and pulling me harder against him. I leaned my head back against his chest and he tilted his head down so that I could see his eyes. Our lips were so close he could have bent down just a few inches and kissed me. It would have been so easy.
"Then same goes for you, Liam. Why don’t you let me go? Besides, you aren’t allowed to touch me, or have you forgotten that I’m off-limits?”
That’s the first time I thought about our situation from his perspective. If I was being tortured, he was right there with me, except he had it worse. He was in the position of power. If he took advantage of me— the young, naïve student— he’d take the fall for it.
His expression darkened and his gaze shifted from my eyes down to my lips. We were going to keep throwing digs at one another because that's all that we could do. We weren't allowed to be together. Hell, we shouldn't have even been dancing, but we were both helpless to the moment.
I should have pulled away, he should have left me alone, but then something happened that served as the final catalyst for our illicit romance.
The lights cut out.
It was already dim before, but then the room turned pitch black. Someone must have hit the light switch.
Who knew how long it would last, but Liam didn't wait to find out. He twisted me around, pulling me to his chest, and kissed me so hard that I let out a little yelp. I recovered quickly, op
ening up for him, tilting my head and letting him slide his tongue over mine. It sent lust swirling through my body. I picked my leg up, twisting it around his hip. One of his hands left my waist and he helped pin my long leg around him. He groaned into my mouth and I completely lost myself in him.
"Leave them off!" someone yelled, and I smiled against his mouth. It was like the world had given us a momentary break from the rules. A hall pass. We were in the dark, in the middle of a crowded dance floor, but no one could see us. One hand drifted higher up my skirt while his other hand pulled me against him so I could feel him against my spanks.
"God," I groaned, dragging our hips together. Would the lights stay out long enough for him to take me right here?
"You're so fucking sexy, Kinsley," he moaned into my ear. "Do you know what I want to do to you? What I imagine doing to you every time I see you?"
His words were fueling the fire between us. I responded by skimming my hands under his shirt, feeling his impossibly toned abs. His skin was hot and smooth, and his muscles were coiled, as if he were restraining himself from what he actually wanted to do to me.
We were just on the edge of falling… and then the lights flicked on and we flew apart.
Chapter Twelve
Our breathing was erratic and heavy as we tried to piece together the last few minutes. We were standing a foot away from each other and the lights kept flickering on and off as someone continued to play with them.
I pressed my palm to my stomach, feeling my diaphragm spasm in response to our secret kiss.
Everything in life was a hazy mess. In the past few days I’d had ten million decisions fall across my lap: Fight Tara or deal with her crap? Do the interview with Brian King or keep my life as private as possible?
But that cloud of uncertainty didn’t reach Liam.
He was the northern star. I had no choice but to become enveloped in his brightness and let it coax me toward him. Wanting him was an unconscious impulse, like taking my next breath.
And now, without a doubt, I knew he wanted me, too.
"You're not in costume," I murmured, glancing over his faded jeans and black shirt that fit him so well I swore they'd been designed with his proportions in mind.
The edge of his mouth curved up. "I'm not a costume type of guy."
Everyone around us was still dancing and the girl behind me kept accidentally knocking into me. I was about to turn around and ask her to get a hold of her flailing elbows, but then I’d have to look away from him. I wasn’t ready for that yet.
"That's not fair," I lamented.
"I don't think I mind costumes so much when you're wearing them," he smirked, letting his gaze fall to my bare stomach. I don't think I minded them either, especially since his hand had been on that bare skin only moments earlier.
"C'mon," he motioned. "I'll go put one on." He tilted his head toward the hallway and I knew we were heading back to his room. I scanned behind me, but didn't see anyone I knew. Becca and Penn were dancing off to the side of the room. His hands were on her hips and her head was tilting up to him. He bent down to say something in her ear and she smiled into his neck.
Half of me wanted to interrupt them and mention Becca's wax or cash in my "one free pantsing" that she'd promised me, but I couldn't do that to her. Best to wait until she was more sober, that way she’d remember it. Hah.
"Coming?" Liam asked, and I realized I'd stopped following him.
He was standing confidently in the hallway, cloaked in darkness. His facial hair was more grown out than usual, like he'd forgotten to shave earlier that morning. But the thing that got me the most, that I couldn't wrap my head around, was his strong hand outstretched and beckoning for me to catch up and grab hold. He was putting himself on the line.
Someone could see us sneaking away from the party, but I told myself the chances were slim. Everyone was too busy concealing their own secrets to worry about discovering ours.
Instead of grabbing his hand, I sidled past him, never breaking eye contact until I turned and walked toward the room he’d pushed us into last week. He chuckled under his breath behind me and I hid my smile as he opened the door.
Not much had changed in one week. Our relationship was still forbidden. He still had to lock the door behind him, but there was a slight sense of hope in the air... maybe because he flipped the light on and gave me a glimpse of his world, his room. It made me feel less like a secret and more like a welcome addition to his life.
It was only one room with an attached bath and closet, but it was huge and decorated well. His bed had a tall black headboard with a crisp, black trimmed bedding set. The room was entirely too clean for a normal 25 year old guy.
There were two framed photographs sitting on his desk. One was of him when he was younger, smiling and smack dab between what looked like very doting parents. I could tell they were his parents because he looked like carbon copies of each of them. The other photo was of him and his team winning silver in the last Olympics. He was smiling up at the crowd, wrapped in an American flag, and holding his silver medal proudly.
"You look so young in this photo," I smiled and stepped closer. I could feel Liam's presence behind me. What was I doing in his room looking at old photographs? Five minutes ago we'd been attacking each other in the living room surrounded by hundreds of people.
"I was young. Young and wild," he smiled and shook his head clear of thoughts before heading toward his closet. I crossed my arms and moved back against the bed. I sat on the end, in what felt like neutral territory, but I could still see him moving around among his clothing.
He grabbed a light blue shirt off a hanger, and without thinking, started tugging his black shirt over his head. He was facing away from me, so of course I watched his back muscles pull and stretch. I could see the tattoos that wrapped around his left shoulder blade. They extended down the back of his arm to his elbow in a half sleeve. I wasn't close enough to make out any of the content, but they were beautifully done. The forms were sketched perfectly and the black ink stood out against his tanned skin. I guess he went shirtless at practice most of the time.
Lucky teammates.
I didn't find the will to speak until he pulled the light blue shirt over his head and his bare skin was out of view. I mourned the loss. It was like getting a glimpse of the David. A tan, tattooed David.
"I saw your tattoos," I joked, pushing off his bed and stepping closer to the closet. He peered over his shoulder at me and smirked. Then he turned fully and I saw the emblem on the front of his shirt. Superman.
He’d chosen the shirt on purpose. He was now Superman. SuperSuperHotMan… and I was Supergirl. We were the freaking cutest thing I’d ever seen. Okay, mostly he brought the cute factor. I was just the sidekick.
"Then it's only fair that you show me yours. Unless you were bluffing?" He raised his brow. He was referring to my tattoo.
I couldn’t believe he remembered my line I’d used on him the other week. The night we’d officially met.
"I wasn't bluffing," I smiled gently, taking another step closer to him. "Do you actually want to see it?"
The right side of his mouth quirked up in confidence. "If you can show me without taking that skirt off.”
I’m sorry, did my uterus just call out to him or am I hearing things?
I cocked a brow and bit back my smirk as I twisted to the side. My fingers found the hem of my SuperGirl shirt and I pulled it up along with the bottom of my bra. My small tattoo was hidden beneath it in small black calligraphy. I'd had my mom write it in her perfect scrolly handwriting, and they'd transcribed her words onto my skin. The whole thing was barely two inches, running horizontally along my ribcage a few inches below my breast.
Liam stepped forward and bent down to get a closer look. His warm breath hit my skin and I realized he could see the very bottom of my breast from his angle.
He reached out and dragged the pad of his finger gently beneath the tattoo. "She believed she could, so she did." Goo
se bumps bloomed beneath his touch and I shivered as his dark voice read my tattoo.
He nodded, lingering on the text for a moment longer before standing up.
“I’ve heard that phrase before, but it really fits you.”
I bit my lip and nodded.
"I think I like that more than all of my tattoos," he noted with a small smirk.
I disagreed, along with all of the U.S. female population, but I held my tongue.
"You don't seem like a tattoo type of girl."
I tilted my head to the side. "Why?"
He pulled his bottom lip into his mouth and then a second later shook his head. "You're young." Bullshit. That wasn't the reason, but he wasn't going to give me the real one.
"It's my mom's handwriting."
He nodded thoughtfully, glancing down at where my shirt now covered up the ink.
"You have to show me at least one of yours. I didn’t get a good look while you were changing."
His dark eyes pierced me for a moment before he reached around and pulled the back of his shirt up. Without thinking, I reached to help, pushing the soft fabric over his skin. I had to fight the urge to push it all the way off the top of his head.
At the center of his left shoulder blade, depicted in black ink, were the words "Veni Vidi Vici" entwined within the Olympic rings.
"Ah, of course you had to get an Olympics tattoo. I like it," I said, tracing my finger over the words. Before I finished, he stepped forward, out of my grasp, and pulled his shirt down.
"C'mon. Let's go get something to eat."
"I'm not hungry," I protested, not ready to leave the privacy and simplicity of his quiet room. In here we were just two people talking. Out there we were two people the world wanted to condemn.
"I am," he winked, and then walked past me. "And you should be. You're working out too hard and it's starting to show. Have you upped your diet?"
Oh god, what was it with guys and proper food intake? We had a nutritionist on the team and I ate healthy enough.