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I put my phone back in my purse and approach Liam. “Did you lose your room key?”
“No, I was waiting for you,” he says.
“Out in the hall? Why?”
“No idea.” He shrugs.
“Well, do you think we can go in there now?” I point to the door behind him.
Liam smirks. “Or I could fuck you up against that wall over there and add exhibitionism to our list.”
“Our list?”
“Our sex list.”
“We don’t have a sex list.” I laugh.
“Oh, but we do. It’s up here.” He taps a finger against his head. “Every single time, place, position, number of orgasms. It’s the list.”
“You’re insane. And, no, we are not adding exhibitionism to that list.”
“Yet. One day, you’ll let me.” He turns and opens the door.
“Never. That’s not happening, Liam King.”
“You said that about letting me fuck you, and you let that happen a lot now. So you should know thatneverdoes not mean never. It just means until you change your mind.”
ChapterThirty-Two
Aliyah:
Score big on the ice and you might just score when you get off the ice too.
I’m in the locker room, getting a filthy look from the coach, probably because I’m not supposed to be on my phone during these team pep talks. I couldn’t care less, though. I’m not ignoring my girlfriend.
Me:
I score every night you’re in my bed. Which is every night. You really should just move in already.
Over the last two months, our relationship has been great. There have been fights, disagreements, and lots of make-up sex afterwards. But the majority of the time, we’re so fucking good it’s unbelievable. I don’t know how I felt the littlest bit of joy before Aliyah was around. I don’t think I ever did.
“King, whenever you’re ready, we’re waiting for you,” Coach yells out.
“Sorry, Coach.” I throw my phone into the locker behind me. Tonight, we’re at home, playing against the Dallas Dolphins. They’re a shit team and winning isn’t even a question in this case. I don’t know what the coach is all up in arms about.
“All right, hit the tunnel. And remember, if you lose tonight, you’ll all be the laughingstock of the league,” Coach calls after us.
“Try not to fuck up, King,” Gray says as he walks in front of me.
“I don’t lose,” I tell him.
“What was up with that game against Philly two nights ago?” he fires back.
He’s referring to the game we lost by one point. “That was you being a fucking asshole and spending half the game in the penalty box,” I say.
I don’t know what’s going on with him. I know Aliyah is worried about her brother, but he’s keeping whatever the fuck his issue is close to his chest. Choosing to take it out on the opposing players. And me, on the ice. I know he’s purposely letting me get hit more often than I should be. He doesn’t even try to stop them half the time. Not that I care. I can handle being shoved into the boards a few times a night.
“So what you’re saying is you can’t win without me. Got it.” Gray shrugs.
