Chapter 199
EMILIA
It takes me less than a minute to slip into Liam’s place. At this point, I‘
–
m basically part of the furniture – the doorman and I are on a first- name basis, and I don’t even gawk at the apartment’s ridiculous size anymore. Progress.
It’s quiet inside, which isn’t exactly shocking. Liam told me I didn’t need to come over, that he’d swing by and pick me up himself. One of his teammates is throwing a barbecue, and no matter how much I tried to fake my way out of it (“Oh no, I think I’m coming down with….. uh….. allergies?”), he wasn’t buying it.
Maybe it won’t be terrible. I’ve met a few of his teammates before, and they were sweet in that loud, chaotic, “we’ve adopted you now” kind of way. Still, an entire house full of them? That’s a lot of energy for someone who spent her morning making croissants.
–
I kick off my shoes, wash my hands in the kitchen, and fight off a yawn before wandering into his bedroom. And there he is – sprawled out like he’s auditioning for the cover of “Men Who Ruin You For Everyone Else.” sound asleep.
The sight makes something in my chest go soft. I close the door, tiptoe over, and ease onto the bed. When I reach out to touch his cheek, his hand catches mine without him even opening his eyes, and he presses a lazy kiss to my fingers.
“Why is it you never listen?” he mumbles, voice all low and raspy
I pretend I didn’t hear him, running my free hand through his hair.
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Then I poke his dimple. “Did I wake you?”
“Yeah.”
“And you weren’t worried some stranger just climbed into your bed?”
Now he opens his eyes, slow and warm, that crooked smile flashing like he knows exactly what he’s doing to me. “You’re the only one with a key. Plus, I know what your footsteps sound like, love.”
The word makes my heart absolutely face–plant, but before I can react, he’s tugging me closer, rolling onto his back with me curled against his chest. His fingers tilt my chin, and then he kisses me slow but deep enough that my lungs forget their job.
When he finally pulls back, I know my face is giving me away because he laughs softly, brushing my hair back. “I thought I was supposed to pick you up from Tessa’s,” he says, still smiling. “What are you even doing here?”
“I think the real question is why you were still asleep. Hungover?”
“That’s s more your specialty than mine.”
Ouch. I take the hit gracefully. “Sore muscles, then? Want me to massage them again?”
The words are barely out before he winces like I’ve just offered to amputate a limb. I bite my lip to keep from laughing.
“That’s never happening again, Emilia. You nearly killed me last time.”
“But you said I was just as good as your physiotherapist,” I protest with a pout.
“Only because you looked like you might cry if I didn’t,” he mutters,
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reaching for his phone with one hand while the other stays firmly locked around me.
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286 Wouchers
It’s in moments like this that I realize just how many little pieces of me are scattered around this place. On his nightstand, there’s the lip balm I left here two weeks ago. In his closet – actual space carved out for my clothes because I keep “forgetting” things after staying over. My toothbrush lives in his bathroom, next to the bottle of my favorite shampoo he bought after complaining I was demolishing his.
—
We have matching mugs in the kitchen – my kitchen, really, since he sometimes calls me just to ask where he’s put something.
It’s all so… domestic. And I love it.
Sometimes I wonder if living together full–time would feel like this every day — waking up tangled in the sheets, stealing sips from each other’s mugs, bickering over closet space we’d never actually give back. We’ve already reached the stage where we brush our teeth side by side, foam and all, without flinching. Honestly, there’s no deeper intimacy than trusting someone while you’re mid–mouth rinse. The thought makes me smile into his T–shirt.
I must make some kind of noise because Liam glances away from his phone, his attention landing fully on me. “You okay?”
“Peachy.”
“Hungry?”
I shake my head. “I ate with Tessa.”
For some reason, that makes him snort. The snort turns into a chuckle, and the chuckle turns into laughter that shakes his shoulders. I give him a suspicious look. “Earth to Liam?”
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288 Your Fers
He finally sets his phone aside and shifts me in his lap until I’m straddling him, knees bracketing his hips. The movement knocks a tiny gasp out of me, my hands catching on his shoulders for balance. His arm wraps low around my waist, anchoring me to him like he’s afraid I‘ 11 slip away. “You really don’t listen, do you?”
–
Then his fingers slip under the hem of my shirt warm, slow,
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deliberate – and my stomach tightens instantly. Every lazy circle he traces on my skin sends a spark straight down my spine. “You came here because you worked yourself into the ground again.”
Heat blooms high in my chest, up my throat. “No…”
He tilts his head, mouth tugging into that devastating, knowing smirk. His other hand cups my face, thumb brushing over my cheekbone with a tenderness that makes my pulse race. “Then why would you have time to lounge around with Tessa?” He pinches my cheek lightly, then smooths the spot with his palm, his touch lingering like he can’t resist. “You’re a terrible liar. And way too cute for your own good.”
The hand on my back drifts higher, sliding over the curve of my spine until his fingers splay between my shoulder blades, pressing me closer. My breath catches, my chest brushing his with every inhale. “Just hire someone to help you already. Or better yet – sell the bakery, I’ll quit hockey, and we’ll disappear to Europe.”
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