Page 25 of Pressure Point

“Liam, I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I’m not good at this stuff,” she said, sitting back up. She let out a huff, trying not to feel completely dejected. “I’m not a virgin, but barely, and only because there was this guy in graduate school who got off on the idea of taking my V-card, and I was so desperate to see what it was like and to no longer be a card-carrying member.”

“I think what we need to work on is your confidence. You just need to be yourself. There is nothing wrong with who you are. And if some guy, Dash or otherwise, can’t appreciate that, then he’s not worth it.”

“Easy for you to say, Mr. Badass goalie. Hi, my name is Liam and I’m eight feet tall, look like a Viking, have a sexy-as-fuck Irish accent, and this even more mysterious broody stare thingy going on.”

Liam’s eyes lit up as she spoke, and she couldn’t help but wonder which one of those descriptors was the one to do it. Whatever it was though, she liked it. His eyes were always warm and welcoming, but now, there was something else about them. Something she wanted to get lost in.

“You like the accent, huh?”

“All girls like accents. Just one more thing you have going for you.”

“Would it make you feel better to know that our number is the same?” he asked.

Avery whipped her head around to look at him. There was no way she was hearing him correctly. Either that, or he was lying to her just to make her feel better. Except, that wasn’t the Liam she knew.

“Please don’t placate me.”

“I’m not,” he said, reaching out and taking her hand. It wasn’t the first time she’d noticed just how big they really were, but it still left her in awe. Everything about him was big—he was six feet five, after all—but his hands reminded her of a bear’s paw. Her small fist easily fit inside his palm as he closed his fingers around it, and the warmth radiating off his skin felt wonderful. “I spent eight years with the same girl. We broke up shortly before I moved here.”

Eight years? Holy shit…

“So you’ve had lots of sex, just with the same person. That’s not quite the same thing,” she pointed out.

“Maybe not,” he shrugged. “But at the end of the day, that number of people is still one. But either version of the story—that's not who you are. When I look at you I see a smart, clever, kind woman who I enjoy hanging out with. Not all that other stuff you’re hung up on.”

“You do?” she asked, feeling her heart squeeze. That’s what he saw when he looked at her? Not the weird girl?

“I do. And I’m still willing to help you with all this nonsense if that’s what you really want, but I refuse to let you focus on trying to be someone you’re not. How about we focus on making you shine and not some manufactured idea of sexy?”

“I like that,” she said, smiling. How was it that this guy knew exactly what to say to her?

“Good. Then let’s grab some food and go watch the movie. Because I really am knackered. And then, when we get back to Atlanta, we start on Operation: Beast Mode or whatever you call it.”

“Operation: Sexy Beast!” she corrected him with a laugh. Standing up, she took a couple of steps and closed the gap between them. She threw her arms around his neck and squeezed hard, hoping to communicate just how much what he’d said meant to her. His big, warm hands landed on her back, pulling her closer, and she took a moment to enjoy the feeling of his arms before stepping back. “Okay, food. You must be starving after that game. How do Buffalo wings sound?”

“I’m not entirely sure what a Buffalo wing is, since I didn’t think those animals had wings, but I trust you.”

“You don’t know what Buffalo wings are?” she asked, her hand flying to her chest in mock indignation. “You poor, deprived soul! They are only some of the best bar food ever. Chicken wings in this spicy sauce.”

“Not something we have back in Ireland.”

"Then I think it’s time we popped your Buffalo wing cherry!”

“Lead the way.”

Chapter Nine

There was just something about a shopping centre—or the mall, as Avery had called it—that had always seemed overwhelming to Liam. He didn’t know if it was the combination of the lights and the music coming from each store conflicting with one another or the fact that no matter what, there always seemed to be five bajillion people in them. Whatever it was, Liam was not at all surprised to find that shopping centres in America were much the same as they were in Ireland.

“Okay, I think I’m ready to start trying things on,” Avery said, spinning around with her hands full of dresses on hangers.

“You sure you have enough here?” he joked, alternately holding up both his arms, which were also filled with blouses and dresses that she’d been handing him since they’d walked inside the department thirty minutes ago. “I’d hate for you to not have options.”

Avery had made quick work of riffling through the racks, very much on a mission that Liam still didn’t quite wrap his head around. But she’d looked so comfortable and confident, two things he wasn't sure he'd ever seen on her, as she marched in and took charge, that he didn’t dare stop her.

She rolled her eyes at him, turning to head toward the fitting room in the back of the store. He followed her, laughing to himself. There was a sassy side of her that was starting to show itself, and fuck if he didn’t like it. What he really wanted to know was how to make it appear more often.

“I don’t know where to start,” she said, taking the last handful of items from him and hanging them in the dressing room. Catching her bottom lip in her teeth, just like she’d done the other night, she gave him a distressed look, and Liam felt heat rush through his body. It was taking all he had not to pick her up, slam the door shut, and push her up against the wall. Except that was not why he was here.