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Aliyah follows me into the elevator and beats me to the punch, pressing the button to take us up to my apartment. “Just so you know, I have three older brothers. I’m very adept at speaking grump. But don’t expect me to sit around and be all rainbows and sunshine if you’re going to resort to grunting at me.”
“Noted,” I say, keeping my voice as neutral as possible.
ChapterNine
This was a mistake, a mistake of epic proportions. And I mean EPIC. I should have stayed in the apartment, or sat in the hall and waited for him. What I should never have done was blindly and stupidly follow Liam-freaking-King into the gym.
What on earth was I thinking? I wasn’t, obviously. I’ve sat in the gym with my brothers countless times before. I’ve even worked out with them. But Liam King is not my brother and the way my body is responding to seeing this man lift weights is not okay. No matter how much I try to tell myself he doesn’t affect me, I can’t deny the attraction. My brain is on board with living in denial but my body—particularly those traitorous lady parts downstairs—seems to have a mind of its own.
I’m surprised I don’t have a pool of drool at my feet right now. I feel like I should be on one of those documentaries about animals in heat on the Discovery Channel. I can imagine the commentary now.
“Here, we have the not-so-elusive horny female. And it’s hockey season, folks, which means that mating season is also in session, and this particular female is looking to start hers out with a bang!”
Argh, I hate him for making me feel this needy. I’m trying not to look. It was easier when I knew he could see me, but right now, Liam has his back to me, his shirtless muscles rippling under the overhead lights and dripping with sweat as he performs a ridiculous number of pull-ups. Surely his arms are going to tire soon. How many times can one guy lift himself like this? My head tilts to the side, appreciating the view he’s giving me more than I’ll ever admit out loud. And then, like I’m snapped out of my trance, I dart my eyes away as his feet hit the mat and he turns around.
I dig through my bag and find my phone. If my brain cells hadn’t taken a vacation over the last ten minutes, I would have snapped a picture of that scene. I probably could have sold it to the tabloids, or auctioned it off to my friends.
Speaking of, I open up the text message thread. There are twenty new messages in our group chat. I don’t read through them; instead, I type out my own message.
Me:
@All How much would you pay for a shirtless picture of Liam King working out in the gym???
Within seconds, I see the little bubbles pop up on the bottom of the screen—the ones that let me know someone is replying.
Amanda:
@AliyahMonroe Don’t you dare tease me like that. I’d give you a kidney.
Charlie:
@AliyahMonroe A real best friend would have already sent the picture.
Nicole:
@AliyahMonroe How does five hundred thousand sound?
Phoebe:
@AliyahMonroe I’ve just used “Find My Friend” to track you. I’ll be out front in ten. Let me in!!!
My eyes bug out of my head. They absolutely cannot turn up here. Shit, shit, shit! I wouldn’t put it past any of them to actually track me down and pop up unannounced.
Me:
@All DO NOT and I mean DO NOT turn up here. You’ll get me fired.
Nicole:
@AliyahMonroe Don’t be so dramatic. Your dad is not going to fire you.
Charlie:
@AliyahMonroe He might when he finds out you’re screwing his latest investment.
My phone vibrates excessively, the notification with an incoming video chat from Phoebe flashing across the screen. I hit decline and drop my phone. Nope, no way am I answering that right now.
“Lia, don’t hold out on me. I swear, if you’re screwing the Liam fucking King, I want deets,” I hear her scream through the receiver. I peer up as I scramble to grab my phone and silence the video call.
