Page 132 of Over the Line

We both chuckled, and he came down for a long, lazy kiss. Then he pulled out and asked, “Shower?”

“Probably a good idea.” We were, after all, a complete mess.

We were both a bit shaky in his huge shower. I couldn’t help taking some pride in watching this top-tier professional athlete trembling after giving me the fuck of my life.

And the more I thought about that, the more it took my breath away. I’d quietly worried in the beginning that he couldn’t possibly want me as much as he did. That he could do so much better, so why sell himself short?

But every time he kissed me, looked at me, drilled me into his mattress—yeah, Liam wanted me.

And then there was the way he’d looked at me on the dads’ trip. When we couldn’t touch and we couldn’t let on that we’d ever exchanged more than a handshake. Every time I’d caught myself pining for him on that trip, I’d meet his gaze and see all that longing and need staring right back at me.

He wanted me, and more and more, I believed he wanted me as much as I did him. Not just sex. Not just someone to hang out with.

I couldn’t resist, and I gently reeled him in for a soft kiss. He didn’t seem to mind, sliding his hands up my back as we lazily indulged in each other’s mouths.

After a moment, he broke the kiss and met my gaze. I thought he might ask what that was all about, but instead he asked, “Do you have any idea how bad it was killing me to be staying in the same hotel without touching?”

Laughing, I nodded. “I think I have some idea, yeah.” I smoothed his wet, disheveled hair. “Especially when you called me to the parking garage.”

He laughed, and I swore if his face hadn’t already been flushed, his cheeks would’ve colored. “Might’ve been a bit of a desperation play.” As he met my gaze again, he licked his lips. “But… I was desperate.”

“Me too.”

He grinned and kissed me. When he met my gaze again, he’d turned more serious. Not unhappy—nothing like that—just serious. Trailing his fingertips along my jaw, he said, “I missed you. You were right there, but… I missed you.” He paused, quirking his lips, and laughed nervously. “That… Fuck. That probably sounds really stupid.”

My throat tightened around a sudden lump of emotion. “No. It doesn’t sound stupid.” Gathering him in my arms, I kissed his temple, and my voice barely carried over the shower as I whispered, “I missed you, too.”

Because I had.

And now he was back in my arms, relaxing into my embrace as if he were relieved that I understood what he’d meant. That we were very, very much on the same page.

And if I’d had any lingering doubts that this thing was so much more than sex…

They all vanished as I held on to the man I loved.

Of course, hockey was a demanding mistress, and the dust had barely settled in the bedroom before Liam was back out on the road. Luckily, we kept in touch almost constantly, and during some of the longer stretches where we were incommunicado, I was watching him on TV.

And when he was off the ice and back in his hotel room…

“That was a hell of a game.”

On my screen, Liam smiled, sitting back against the headboard. “It was a grind.”

“You won, though.”

He laughed so softly the sound didn’t even carry through our FaceTime call. “Eventually. I thought we were fucked there for a while, but we pulled it off.”

“Yeah, you did. That was a crazy goal from Temo!”

“I know, right? And it broke his dry spell, so believe me, he’s happy.”

“I bet he is.”

In fact, everyone knew he was—the pure elation coming off the man after he scored had been infectious. The game had been tied 1-1 since the first period, and by the final two minutes of the third, the commentators had been resigned to the game going into overtime. Then Long Island got a power play in the final minute. Either they’d score and finish off the Phantoms, or they’d go into overtime with sixty seconds on the man advantage. Not good.

With thirty seconds left in regulation, a Long Island defenseman had bobbled a pass. Out of nowhere, Temo snatched up the puck and flew out of the defensive zone. I think the power play was caught off-guard so badly, so caught up in their momentum of cycling the puck and moving in on Pittsburgh’s net, they didn’t react quickly enough. Only by a second or two, but in hockey, that was enough to be disastrous.

With three skaters on his heels, Temo sped into Long Island’s zone. He faked left. Then right. The goalie went down, probably expecting a shot through the five-hole… and Temo sent it right past his ear.