I pull my hand away. “From where I'm sitting, it looks like you went out and proved every single thing I said about you was right. That you're impulsive and reckless and?—”
“I was hurt,” he interrupts. “You hurt me, and I didn't know what to do with that, so I did something stupid. Is that what you want to hear?”
The honesty stops me cold.
“I thought if I could just, I don't know, do something big and stupid and Nova-like, maybe I'd stop feeling like you'd ripped my fucking heart out.” He laughs, but there's no humor in it.
“It didn't work, by the way. Then some asshole ran a red light and now I'm here, bruised and car-less, and you're acting like you give a damn.”
“I do give a damn.”
“Why?” His eyes bore into mine, intense and demanding. “I thought I was just a client. I thought Sunday night was meaningless. So why do you care if I wrapped a car around a pole?”
“I just do.”
“Not good enough, Avery.”
We stare at each other, the air crackling between us. I should leave. I should protect what's left of my professional integrity.
But I'm so tired of running.
“I had a boyfriend in college,” I say. “His name was Kai. He was a star quarterback. Charming, devoted, made me feel like I was the center of his world.” My voice goes flat. “Until the spotlight got brighter. Then suddenly I wasn't enough. One person's love couldn't compete with thousands of people screaming his name.”
Liam goes very still, his eyes never leaving my face.
“I watched him choose fame over me. He chose other women because he could, because they were there, because athletes like him need constant validation.” I force myself to meet his gaze. “So when I saw that photo of your car, when I thought you might be hurt or worse, I panicked.”
I shift closer to him. “But despite everything I know, despite every lesson Kai taught me about athletes and their egos and their inability to choose one person over the crowd, I care about you. And that terrifies me.”
“Avery.”
“You asked why I care. That's why. Because I'm apparently a glutton for punishment. Because I let myself fall for another athlete who's going to choose his image, his reputation, his need for public approval over me.”
“Kai was a fool,” Liam interrupts, his voice fierce. He closes the distance between us, his hands finding my face. “A complete fucking fool. And I am not him.”
“You don't understand.”
“I understand perfectly. He had you, and he threw it away for what? Applause? Attention? That's not love. That's insecurity.” His thumbs stroke my cheeks. “I would never do that to you. Never.”
“You say that now.”
“I mean it.” His eyes are blazing with intensity. “You think I don't know what it's like to need validation? To crave approval because you're trying to fill a hole that someone else left? I've been doing that my whole life. But you—” His voice cracks slightly. “You make me want to be better than that. Better than the guy who needs strangers to tell him he matters.”
Tears stream down my face. “I'm scared you'll hurt me. That you'll prove I was right about athletes. About men like you.”
“I'm not Kai. I'm not going to choose fame over you. I'm not going to choose anyone over you.” He rests his forehead against mine. “Let me prove it. Please. Just give me a chance to show you I'm different.”
“I thought you were seriously hurt,” I say, tears streaming down my face. “I saw that photo and I couldn't breathe. Icouldn't think. All I could see was you trapped in that car, and all I could think about was what if the worst had happened.”
“Come here,” he says, and pulls me onto his lap.
I go. My legs bracket his hips, and when his mouth meets mine. The kiss is desperate and hungry.
Liam kisses me like he's been starving for it, like I'm oxygen and he's been drowning. I kiss him back the same way, needing to feel him alive and whole beneath my hands. My fingers thread through his hair, careful of the cut on his forehead, and he groans into my mouth.
“Wait,” I gasp, pulling back. “Your ribs.”
“Are fine.”
