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Chapter nineteen

Liam

Myjersey’sdrenched,mystick hand’s shaking, and my legs are one shift away from quitting on me—but my brain’s still circling the same damn thing.

Katarina.

Fake girlfriend. Real problem.

I slam my helmet down on the bench and try to catch my breath, but the air in here tastes stale—like recycled sweat and frustration. I should be focused on drills, positioning, the goddamn puck. But instead, I’m watching the clock tick down until I see her again.

Pathetic.

Truth is, I’ve been off since that goddamn equipment room.

Not just because I had her pressed against the wall, soft and breathless, looking at me like she wanted to be fucked six ways from Sunday—but because something shifted the second she saw my tattoo.

She flinched.

Only for a second, but I caught it. Like my ink said something she wasn’t ready to hear. Like it meant more to her than it should’ve.

I can’t stop replaying it. The way her throat moved when she swallowed hard. The way her eyes lingered on the edge of my shirt like she was trying to keep it together—and failing.

And before that?

In the recovery room, she was watching me stretch like she forgot she was supposed to be assessing my mobility. Her eyes were all over me, and yeah—I felt it. So I leaned in. Crowded her space. Let her feel the heat, the weight, what I’d do to her if she said the word.

She didn’t step back.

Didn’t stop me.

Her breath hitched. Her body tensed in all the right ways. She wanted it.

She wanted me.

I should’ve kissed her. Should’ve taken her right there with her clipboard clattering to the floor, her legs wrapped around my waist while I reminded her what it feels like to be fucked by a man who knows how to ruin.

But I pulled back.

Let her go like a goddamn amateur.

And now Griffin’s in my ear—again.

Texting threats like I don’t know exactly what he’d do if he found out I’m this close to bending his baby sister over the nearest flat surface. Telling me to back off. Keep my distance. Thing is, Griffin doesn’t have a clue how far this has already gone.

How many times I’ve had to walk away when all I wanted to do was drag her into the nearest dark corner and hear her beg.

She’s already under my skin. In my head.

And the worst part?

She’s not even trying to stop me.

So yeah—Griffin can keep barking. Doesn’t change the fact that his sister’s looking at me like she wants me to forget every rule that’s ever mattered.

And I’m this close to giving her exactly that.

Because I cant keep on like this. Flashes—fragments of memories that don’t make sense. A woman’s laugh. The taste of wine and rebellion. Hands that knew exactly where to touch me. But every time I try to piece it together, it slips away like smoke.