Page 48 of Over the Line

Yeah, I’d recently acquired back issues of those magazines. For the articles, of course. The lengthy, detailed articles about Liam’s workout regimen, complete with photos of him lifting weights while wearing nothing but shorts, tank tops, and sweat.

I took a deep swallow, draining what remained of my drink. It didn’t help much. I didn’t imagine much would help except being fully submerged in ice. Or, like, not being here. Getting up off this couch, getting out of this house, getting into my car and…

And that wasn’t going to happen because I wanted to be here. Maybe it wasn’t good for my ability to concentrate. Maybe it was dangerous for my cardiovascular system.

But holy shit, the last thing I wanted to do was leave.

On the screen I was barely watching, the action stopped and the game went to commercial. Without really thinking about it, I glanced at him.

And he did the same.

And we locked eyes.

And it lingered for…

For…

Fuck. Way too long, and at the same time, not nearly long enough. When Liam broke the standoff, I almost wavered, as if that silent tension between us had been the only thing holding me upright.

My God, I want you.

I was an idiot for thinking that was mutual, though. Son’s teammate. A literal model. Richer than God. Out of my league. None of those things had changed since I’d walked into his house, and no amount of lingering looks or double entendres were going to change them.

Right then, Liam gestured at our empty glasses. “I’ll, uh… I should get us some refills.”

Then he was up, glasses in hand, and on his way to the kitchen like the living room was on fire.

And my heart was still pounding.

CHAPTER 14

LIAM

In the kitchen, I closed my eyes and took a few breaths, willing my stupid head to stop spinning.

This wasn’t “off to the quiet room for concussion protocol” spinning. Far from it.

I just needed to pull my head together. Seriously. This was ridiculous. Garrett was here for a drink and to hang out and watch hockey. Not for any of the stupid fantasies swirling in my stupid head.

And even if he was here for any of that… Well, I’d just had to invite him over on a night when physical activity was off the table, hadn’t I?

Fuck me. He had no right to look that good in a gray sweatshirt and jeans. Especially not with his salt-and-pepper hair neatly arranged like that.

I’d been attracted to guys before. I didn’t think I’d ever been drawn to someone quite like this, though. I couldn’t remember ever meeting someone so… magnetic.

But it didn’t matter if I was the picture of health or I was in a body cast—there wouldn’t be any physical activity tonight because that wasn’t who we were. That wasn’t what this was. He’d come over to chill, have a drink, watch hockey—all things that didn’t include hooking up with a dented hockey player who was lucky he hadn’t said anything stupid.

Behind me, a floorboard creaked, and a second later⁠—

“Liam?”

I whipped around, nearly dropping the glasses in my hands.

From the doorway, Garrett watched me curiously. “Uh. Hey. Everything all right?”

“Yeah. Yeah, it’s fine.” I laughed, sounding almost as nervous as I suddenly was. I shifted my weight, which sent a bolt of pain through my hip. I tried not to let it show, but apparently I wasn’t as subtle as I’d hoped.

“You okay?” he asked.