Page 8 of Raise Me Up

“You telling me we subjected you to over two decades of metal music and you don’t even like the genre?”

“I’m supportive, but yeah. It’s not for me.”

The side of his mouth twitches. “Fair enough.”

I don’t want him to feel obligated to babysit me at the gym, so I give him an out. “Thanks for the spot.”

He pulls out his phone, leaning over the barbell to fiddle with it. “You’ve got two more sets before you get rid of me.”

I’d rather not get rid of himever, but that’s an inside thought. I’m surprised he’s allowed me and Hail to stay in his life as long as he has.

No one else seems to make the cut.

People on social media either recognize Liam as a musical genius or label him an egotistical asshole. They don’t understand the broken boy he hides, and I don’t think he wants them to.

“If I’m doing two more sets, then so are you,” I say, wriggling out of my hoodie.

With Liam’s presence, I don’t have to worry about anyone else bothering me, and I’d rather not pass out from the heat rolling in through the cracked garage door along the side of the gym.

His eyes flick up from his phone, and my heart misfires as he takes his time looking me over.

Okay. Maybe removing the hoodie was a bad idea. I’ve worked hard on my body, but I’m far from perfect. I have blemishes and scars and stretch marks from growing too fast through puberty.

I’m nothing like the women Liam Beckner would have entertained on tours.

His tone is husky when he replies, “What if it’s not my arm day?”

“You were doing bicep curls, tricep pulls, and shoulder presses. Of course it’s your arm day.” I pop up from the bench and motion to the space I’ve created for him.

Liam chuckles. It’s barely a sound. A soft, low noise that settles between my legs. “You been watching me, Anastasia?”

“You’re hard to miss,” I admit.

He encroaches into my space, the heat from his massive body seeping into me. I’m taller than the average woman and carved with lean muscle, but he makes me feel small. Breakable inside and out.

Damn it, the mandoesscare me. When I think about him touching me or kissing me, my knees threaten to give out. I’m not sure I’d survive him. Only because I’d crave more than he’d ever be willing to give.

A heavy sigh escapes me. He gently bumps my shoulder with his own as he moves to the bench and lays down, his big, tattooed hands gripping the bar.

“Oh, hell no. You think I’m going to let you get off easy?” I say.

Liam raises a curious brow. Grinning, I hurry over to the weight rack, striding right through another group of gym bros to grab more steel plates. Though I feel judging gazes on me, I’m more confident with Liam in my corner. More like me than when I’m alone.

Liam watches me patiently as I load the plates onto the bar. Once I’m done, I clap my hands together. “Better.”

But it’snotbetter. Not when Liam handles the two-hundred seventy-five pounds beautifully, muscles shifting under inked scenes of angels and demons locked in a bloody, eternal battle on his skin. Defined abs crunch beneath the worn scrap of fabric that can’t even be called a shirt.

I can see the outline of his cock beneath his sweats. There’s no ignoring it. And there’s no way itcouldn’tbe hard right now. The size…

Good lord, he melts all the intelligent thoughts in my brain. Accepting the invite to his house was a bad idea. It feels like the foreshadowing of regret. Or inevitable heartbreak.

But the idea of spending the night by myself in my apartment is way worse.

When Liam sits up and swings his legs around so he can look at me, I stick out a hand to demand his other earbud. “If you’re going to put me to shame like that, I’m going to find ways to pick apart your recording.”

Smirking, Liam rises to his full height and moves closer. Nerves fire as his calloused fingers trail up my neck. My breath catches.

He wraps his hand under my jaw and eases my head to the side. I don’t fight him. I don’t want to. At this moment, I exist for him alone. A puppet on strings only he controls.