“You’ll have to ask nicely,” he taunts as he carries me toward the house. We’re only a block away but I swear if anyone sees him carrying me, I’d be humiliated!
“Fuck off,” I grumble at him. “Put me down.”
As we approach the front door, he sets my feet down on the ground and unlocks the house with his key.
“Asshole,” I hiss at him and he opens the front door, letting me inside.
He steps in after me, flips on the lights, and disarms the alarm.
The house smells like it’s been freshly painted, but the walls are the bland cream that they were the last time I was over.
Weird.
“Your house smells like new paint.”
“Does it?” Liam says and slips off his shoes and coat. “Didn’t notice.” He places my backpack by the front door on the floor.
“Did you guys paint the place?”
“The owners had some electrical work on the house done and they must have patched and painted where they went into the wall.”
“Oh,” I say and glance at the living room wall. “Is this where they patched it?”
Liam shrugs. “No clue. I wasn’t home, but I assume the paint is dry. Just don’t fuck me against the wall and we’re good.”
He winks at me and I just stare at him, flabbergasted.
“What?” The smile grows on his lips as he pulls me against him, his hands firm on my hips “Do you not like when I use the word fuck.”
It’s the way he says it that heats my body temperature several degrees. It’s also the intense eye contact, and I swear I’m turning into a puddle for the man who is undoubtedly both annoying and sexy as hell.
He keeps one hand on my hip, and with the other, he brushes a stray hair off my face and I shiver.
“Your hands are ice.”
“We were outside,” Liam reminds me.
I grab his hands, keeping them off my bare skin until they warm. I enclose his hands in mine, trying to warm them but it’s not like I’m a furnace. I’m still a bit chilled from our walk home after the hockey game.
I remove his beanie and he’s got a bit of damp hair under his hat. “Liam!” I can’t help but scold. “You went out with wet hair in the cold? You’re going to get sick!”
“That’s not true.” He runs a hand through his hair. “It’s not even frozen.” He grabs my hand and forces me to drag it through his cold, damp hair.
“You’re not convincing me that you’re well or sane,” I point out.
Liam chuckles and leans in, kissing me. “Your lips are warm.”
They don’t feel incredibly warm, but compared to his hands and his hair, I suppose he’s right. “Come here.” I drag him down the hallway as he opens his mouth, about to say something. “What?”
“You’re hot when you’re bossy,” Liam says, and I open his bedroom door, walking backward inside as I drag him to follow me.
He hits the light on the wall and then shuts the door behind himself.
“Clothes off,” I order, and Liam grins, tilting his head.
“Yes, firebreather.”
I roll my eyes and remove my jersey and pants, climbing under the covers.
