Page 75 of Scoring Wilder


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She grinned and I heard Liam chuckle behind me. It was dark and smooth like I’d imagine a glass of bourbon to be. When I spun to face him, he was regarding me with enough heat to start a fire. And not a wimpy fire… a giant, smoldering bon fire. His right brow was dropped just a tad, his grey eyes were narrowed, and he was wearing a secret smirk that said he had me exactly where he wanted – hook, line, and sinker.

"I'm all ears," he murmured, crossing his arms over his broad chest.

I took a moment to gather my wits that he’d stolen in a flash. "Were you going to hook up with her if I hadn't interrupted?" My voice held more curiosity than jealousy.

"No," he grinned with a twinkle in his eyes. "That's my agent. She would bill me extra for services like that."

"Ha-ha. She's pretty," I stated, matter-of-factly.

"Not my type."

"What's your type?" I asked, crossing my arms protectively over my stomach, careful not to spill my drink.

"Long legs, brown hair… the kind of girl that pretends I don’t exist for three days and then has the confidence to cut in at a party when I'm talking to another girl."

I bit back my smile. "Not another girl, your agent."

He smiled and his features relaxed into pleasant repose as if he were chiseled from stone. I studied the way his cheek bones sloped into his sharp jaw. It was hard to focus on anything else when I hadn’t been this close to him in days. It was like my body’s resistance to his sheer magnetism had faded and now I was starting again from zero.

Yes, brain. He’s still the most beautiful thing in the world.

"You didn't know she was my agent."

I looked down at the floor and shrugged.

"I spoke with Coach Davis earlier."

"How'd that go?" he asked.

"Tara got kicked off the team."

He raised his brows. "She needed to be, but I didn't think they would actually do it."

"She made it pretty easy for Coach Davis to give her up from what it sounded like," I murmured and glanced down his body. His tattoos were peeking out from beneath his left shirt sleeve and I blushed remembering the image of him changing in his closet.

"It'll be better for the whole team with her gone," Liam said, taking a small step toward me. I swallowed past the lump in my throat.

"She also told me that this," I pointed between the two of us for fear that I was being presumptuous saying the word relationship out loud, "wasn't off-limits anymore.”

He crossed his arms and skirted around my statement completely. "I wasn't sure if you'd come," he admitted, taking another minuscule step toward me. Each time I inhaled I was overwhelmed with a mix of bodywash and cologne. My breathing picked up so that I could get another intoxicating whiff as soon as the last one faded.

"I couldn't let Becca come by herself. She took a ton of crap from Tara because of me… and she really wanted to see Penn."

“Are you here just to support Becca?” There was a touch of anger in his voice that hadn’t been there a moment before.

I mashed my lips together and shook my head, unable to form the actual word, no.

"Are you going to swim later?" I asked, changing the subject to neutral territory.

"We’ll see," he answered with a confident air. He wasn’t going to give in easily. I clearly had some groveling to do.

I peered behind him toward the pool and his hand reached out to touch my arm gently. "Hey, you should go find Becca and Penn for a minute. I've gotta finish that conversation with my agent or I'll have to set up a meeting with her this week." His tone made it clear that he was less than enthused to leave my side, and I took it as a good sign.

"Okay... the agent that you definitely don’t think is pretty?" I quipped, only half joking.

He smiled as if my jealousy amused him, then he bent low and enunciated every single syllable of his next sentence.

"She's not Kinsley Bryant."

Damn. A witty retort involving another girl named Kinsley Bryant he might have known was on the tip of my tongue, but he kissed my cheek and went to find his agent before I could utter a word. I watched him walk away, realizing that my attraction to Liam Wilder was back in full force. I’d pushed aside the addiction for the past few days, thinking that if I focused on soccer I could pretend that he didn’t exist. Yeah, no. My brain took that as some kind of reverse psychology crap, and instead, I thought about him all day every day.

The time for bullshit and games was over. I wanted him and now there was nothing stopping me.

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