Page 60 of Best Kind of Trouble
“It probably was.” I reposition the monitor before pressing play again. “My dad didn’t like to keep other people comfortable in meetings. He thought it gave him the upper hand.”
He huffs, “Can’t wait to meet him. I’ve heard such good things.”
“You may like him,” I say with a shrug as we head over to the couch. Our sides brush together as we move, but neither of us make any real effort to put distance between us. “A lot of people do.”
“I doubt it,” he says as he lowers onto the couch. “He hasn’t been very nice to you, and I’m inclined to take that personally.”
I flick off the overhead lights and sit next to him, feeling my body dip toward him. I know I should edge away, but I let my thigh and arm press against his as we tune into the movie.
Fifteen minutes later, he winds his arm around me and starts playing with my hair. I don’t say anything as I sink further into him, every atom in my body focused on the places where we’re pressed together. He doesn’t acknowledge it either.
It’s like we’ve silently agreed that if we avoid commenting on what’s happening it won’t be a big deal. We’re just two colleagues sitting together, watching a movie as a much-needed break.
But when Rocky tells Adrian he can’t win the fight—he just wants to go the distance—I shift to look at Liam. Our legs are still touching, and his face is closer than I’d realized, angled down toward me.
“You don’t think I can win?” I ask in a small voice.
“I do,” he insists. “But I don’t think it’s the winning that matters, Briar. Not with this. It’s about going all in, even if you don’t think you’ve got a shot.”
“Is that howyoufight?”
His smile is approving again, and I find myself tracing it with my finger, as if touch is a direct conduit to memory.
He watches me with a feral look in his eyes. “I thought we saidno touching the boss,” he says, his voice low and raspy. “I believe in following the rules.”
“You’re not my boss, and you’re the one who wrote it.”
“Good thing. Say…do you think a kiss qualifies as a touch?” he asks, reaching back to cup my head through my hair.
He’s close enough for me to see the glints of gold and red in his short beard and the constellations of amber in his eyes. The bluish bruise above his right cheekbone.
My every nerve ending is drunk on him, but that doesn’t stop me from remembering the way Hannah begged me to never, ever date Liam. I’m positive he has no interest in dating me, but I’m also sure she wouldn’t want me to make out with himat work.
I edge away on the couch. “We can’t do this.”
“No,” he says, wrapping his fingers around my wrist. “I think what you mean is that weshouldn’tdo this.”
“We shouldn’t,” I repeat, my voice shaky. “You’re right about that.”
His focus is totally mine, as if I’m the only woman on Earth. The only one who matters.
“But I really want to,” he admits gruffly. “Do you want me to kiss you, Briar Sterling? I’ll know if you’re lying. You’re a terrible liar.”
“You’re a bully.” But I stay put, his fingers still surrounding my wrist, caressing me with tiny movements.
“Some people have said so, but I think you know better.”
I do. He’s gruff and says what he pleases, but he’s kind too. He was kind to Otis. He was kind to me that first night, bringing me to the boxing gym because he could tell what I needed even when I couldn’t.
“We can’t do this,” I say again, more emphatically, for both of us. Rocky’s fighting Apollo Creed now, and it’s not going well for him. I gesture at the screen in desperation. “He’s losing.”
“Exactly,” he says, tugging me a little closer. I slide toward him, needing the solid assurance of him. “When the chips are down, that’s when you need to feel the most alive.”
He reaches up to cup my chin, cradling it as he peers into my eyes. To my surprise, I’m the one who pushes up and kisses him.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
LIAM
