Page 75 of Over the Line

Oh, fuck. Finally.

His strong body felt even more solid than the car he was pressing me up against. His fingers dug into my hips and dragged through my hair as he parted my lips with his tongue.

As I was reaching for his face, though, the memory of the bruise on his cheekbone made me hesitate. I drew back. “You’re not—how’s your face? After the high⁠—”

He kissed me again, and I forgot what I was even thinking. I vaguely remembered I should be careful of his cheekbone, but he had plenty more real estate for my hands to explore. His thick hair. His round ass. His powerful shoulders. Every contour beneath his clothes brought back memories of that too-brief moment of making out with him, and heat flared beneath my skin at the thought of not holding back this time.

“Face is fine,” he mumbled breathlessly between kisses. “Just… God, I needed you tonight.”

My knees went weak. “Really?”

“Well, yeah.” He drew back a little and grinned up at me. “Why do you think I texted?”

No rational, logical answer came to mind. And if it did, it wouldn’t have lasted because Liam slid a hand over my lower back and pulled our hips together. The erection rubbing mine through our clothes made me whimper as all my thoughts went up in smoke.

“Keep this up,” I mumbled, “and you’re going to end up plowing me over the front of a car.”

“Don’t threaten me with a good time.”

My laugh vanished into the heat of another hard, demanding kiss.

“Fuck,” I murmured.

His lips curved into a grin a second before they softened. His dick sure didn’t soften, though, and neither did mine, and the more we kissed, the more we rutted together. I thought I was going to lose my balance, but right then, Liam pressed me back even harder against my car, the cold of the glass and metal through my clothes making me gasp. He dipped his head and kissed my neck, and I was thankful for the car because I didn’t know how else I’d stay upright.

“I can’t guarantee anything acrobatic tonight,” he murmured against my throat. “Not… Not right after a game. But I⁠—”

“I don’t care,” I panted, dragging my hand up his back. “We can just make out on your couch as long as you don’t let go.”

His little whimper was nearly inaudible, and it damn near knocked my legs out from under me even with the car for support. “We should take this inside. We need to get naked. Now.”

No argument from me. Unfortunately, teleportation hadn’t yet been invented. Rude. The only way we were getting to the bedroom was on our own power.

So, reluctantly, we let each other go, though he kept a firm grip on my hand as we started for the door.

He led me inside, and we paused just long enough for me to kick off my shoes before we continued across the kitchen.

But then he paused, his body suddenly tense.

“What’s wrong?” I asked. Oh God, was he having second thoughts? Should I be having second thoughts?

Liam took a deep breath and faced me. “Listen, um…” He shifted nervously, avoiding my gaze. “This is super awkward, and I hate doing it, but…”

I studied him.

Then his eyes flicked to the kitchen island again. No, not to the island—to the manila folder sitting on it. With a pen beside it.

He took a deep breath and fidgeted, eyes once again darting toward the folder. “My agent told me a long time ago that it’s a good idea, and I⁠—”

“NDA?”

Liam’s gaze snapped toward me, his eyes wide.

I nodded at the folder. “You want me to sign an NDA?”

Color rose in his cheeks, and he cringed. “I don’t want you to, but⁠—”

“But you’re a public figure.” I reached for the folder. “You have to protect your reputation.”