Page 43 of Pressure Point

“You’re not wearing your dress?” he asked.

“No, I didn’t want to chance ruining it. Does this not work?” she asked, suddenly worried she was underdressed.

“You look beautiful,” he answered, crossing the room in a couple of steps and slipping his arm around her waist. His large hand felt warm against the small of her back as he pulled her close, placing a soft kiss on her cheek. Suddenly, his hand against her wasn’t the only thing feeling warm. “But are you sure you’re going to be able to dance in those shoes?”

“I’ve been practicing!”

“If you say so,” he laughed. “I still have ten Euro that I end up carrying you at the end of the night.”

“Here we bet in dollars,” she teased. “And you won’t. But if you do, I promise to make it worth the trouble.”

A fire flashed in Liam’s eyes at her words but was gone so quickly that Avery wasn’t sure if she imagined it or not. Did his mind just go someplace naughty? A blush crept up the back of her neck at the thought, unsure of how that really made her feel. On the one hand, she wanted to know what else he had up his sleeve and if he could make her feel just as good as he had the other night with other parts of him. On the other hand, this was Liam. She didn’t feel that way about him. He didn’t feel that way about her. They were just friends.

She needed to get her head back in the game. The other night was a nice detour, but that’s all it was. A pit stop. Tonight they were back on track with Operation: Sexy Beast. Focusing on her dance moves.

Eyes on the prize, Avery, eyes on the prize.

But wait…what exactly was the prize?

* * *

It took every last ounce of restraint Liam had not to hold Avery’s hand while they waited for their ride. And once they were inside the car. Hell, it had taken everything he had not to hold her hand all damn week. His palm itched with the desire to feel the warmth of her palm against his. To feel the softness of her touch.

Liam wasn’t sure if the busy-ness of the week had been a blessing or a curse, as it had put some distance between them after last Saturday night. Helping her with a leg cramp had spiraled into more faster than he’d even realized possible. One second he was helping her stretch, like he would any teammate, and the next her lips were on his. The second after that his hand was in her panties. And that was not something he’d experienced with a teammate. Hell, it wasn’t something that he’d experienced with anyone other than Orla. Not that he regretted what happened, he just wanted to make sure Avery didn’t regret it.

He also knew that was as far as it went. As much as he wanted her—all of her—he knew she didn’t really want him in return. She’d been caught up in a moment, and he’d simply been there, ready and willing to help. Maybe a little too willing. He told himself this wasn’t like before. That he knew the stakes and that he was Avery’s wingman—which was one hundred percent different than coming in second.

The ache in his chest grew at that thought, and for what must have been the hundredth time, he considering saying something to her about it. But she hadn’t acknowledged it at all, and that told him everything he needed to know. So he’d file the memory away, sure that it would become a spank bank favorite.

“Where are we off to?” she asked, breaking through his thoughts, bringing him back to the moment.

“Err, Club 404,” he answered, flexing his hands in a reminder to not grab hers. “I don’t know much about it, but it’s where Link recommended. I guess they play more EDM, so like top forty, hip-hop remix stuff, rather than like house or dubstep.”

“I’m not really sure what any of that means, but I’ll trust you,” she told him.

“Truthfully, I wouldn’t really know the difference either. I would just call it techno, but Ronan, he’s the youngest, would be up my ass about it, telling me techno is its own thing and not some catch-all genre.”

“Is he big into music?”

“He’s big into partying. He’s eighteen, but he’s been sneaking off to raves and into clubs for years. Mum has always said he’d be the death of her.”

“What about the others?” she asked.

“Other what?” He looked at her, confused. Her soft green eyes looked happy, making him feel warm inside. There was something about the way she looked at him, like he mattered, that made him want to just get lost in her eyes. The way they had looked the other night, as she was coming undone from his touch, was something that would be burned into his mind for the rest of time. It was just that special.

“Your brothers. You said you have four, but I’ve never heard you talk about them.”

That’s because for the first time in my life it’s been nice to be just Liam, rather than one of the Daley lads.

“We’re not very exciting,” he told her.

“A family of five boys? I’m sure that’s not true.”

“Oh, we were a rowdy bunch, that’s for sure. Finn is the most like Da, even plays the same position, attacking midfielder. They’re the outgoing, friends-with-everyone type. Paddy is a winger, and more reserved but still a lot more extroverted than I am. He’s the one I was closest to.”

“Was? Past tense?”

Shit. He did not want to go down that road right now. Or ever. Leave it to Avery to pick up on something as little as past tense.