"I keep hearing the man's voice," I admitted when we were a few minutes away from Liam's house.

"Was he asking you for a picture?" Liam asked, eyeing me cautiously.

"He was demanding a photo— but he was also asking really personal questions about us. He asked if you took my virginity and if I liked that you were my coach... you know..."

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Liam's hand gripped the steering wheel even tighter and I knew my confession didn’t sit well with him. I had to tell him though, the paparazzi's words were slimy; I didn't want to keep them to myself and let them rot.

"That won’t happen again. I’ll make sure of it. Do you hear me, Kinsley? I'll never let him near you," Liam bit out harshly.

I nodded and glanced out the passenger side window. Liam couldn't be with me all the time, but I believed that he would keep me safe when he could, and that's all that mattered.

When we go to his house, he helped me out of the car and then led me straight to his bathroom. I leaned back against the sink and he slowly helped me out of my dress, bra, 825/890

and panties. His touch was gentle and soothing against my skin, and I sighed into him, letting him hold my weight. He drew a warm bubble bath and then gently set me inside.

When I was comfortable lying in the bubbles, he kissed the top of my head and headed for the bathroom door. "Wash up.

I'm going to start dinner," he said with a tight smile. I knew he wasn't over the events of the day yet, but neither was I.

"Liam—" I said, getting his attention. He spun around in the doorway, and for a brief moment, I let myself take in his handsome features: the sweet lips, the straight nose, the chiseled jaw.

"I love you."

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He closed his eyes for a brief moment, as if soaking in my words, and then he smiled and glanced back at me. "I love you, too."

It was over dinner that Liam asked me to move in with him. I was taking a bite of the spaghetti when he said plain and simple,

"Move in with me."

My heart paused for a moment as I finished chewing. Then I glanced up at him as if he were insane. "Here?" I asked.

"It doesn't matter where. If you don't like this house then we'll find another."

That's not really what I had meant, but I couldn't comprehend his request.

"We've been dating for two months," I stated as if maybe he'd forgotten.

"Two and half actually, but it doesn't matter."

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"Is this because of what happened today?" I asked, setting my fork down on the edge of my plate.

He sighed. "It has a little bit to do with that. I've wanted you here with me from the start. We have such busy schedules that it would just make sense for us to live together.

When I'm not working or practicing, I want to be with you."

"But—" I couldn't even process all of my protests into one coherent list. I was too young, I had to live in the house with the other rookies, I would miss Becca, my parents would flip, and our relationship was still so fresh. Any of those were valid reasons, but I knew they wouldn't be good enough for Liam, and to be honest, a part of me, a very 828/890

big part of me, thought they weren’t good enough for me either.

"Can I think about it?" I asked with a gentle tone.

His gaze scanned over me, memorizing the planes of my features. "Of course. It's a big decision."

"And you're 100% sure about asking me?

You won't regret it in the morning?"

The edge of his mouth tipped skyward and he shook his head. "No, so you can't use that as an excuse.

I smiled and then took another bite of spaghetti, hoping to pause the conversation until my head wasn't aching.

We finished the rest of our dinner and he cleaned up quickly while I went to lie down in bed. I loved Liam's bed. It was 829/890

oversized in everyway, with too many pillows and light airy blankets that layered on top of one another. I felt tiny when I climbed inside of it and most of the time I never wanted to leave.

A few minutes later he came in carrying two Ibuprofen and a cup of water for me.

"Here, take these before you sleep or you'll wake up feeling terrible," he said, handing me the pills.

"And it's okay if I go to sleep?" I asked, fearful of the fact that I could still have a concussion.

Liam nodded and brushed my hair back from my face. "The doctor said you could sleep normally."

I swallowed the pills as Liam crossed the room to change into his pajamas. He pulled 830/890

his shirt overhead and tossed it into the dirty clothes hamper, and for a moment I could hardly breathe. It was a sight that I'd never get used to: tan skin covering contoured muscles fit for a professional athlete. I loved each ridge and didn't even bother turning away when he spun around and found me staring.

"You're supposed to be sleeping," he joked, dropping his jeans and tossing them aside so he could put his sleeping pants on.

My eyes scanned down the front of him, drinking in the sight of him and trying to quell my raging hormones. I was tired and injured, you'd think that would be enough of a turnoff, but unfortunately nothing could turn me off about Liam.

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"You're making it impossible to sleep," I said with a cheeky smile. I sat atop the blankets with my long legs crossed at the ankle. My sleeping shirt barely hit the tops of my tan thighs and Liam's gaze dragged down them, then back up to me.

He slowly walked toward the bed, forgetting his sleeping pants all together. I could already see his erection growing thick beneath his briefs and I licked my lips in anticipation of the next few minutes.

"How are you feeling?" Liam asked, glancing up at me with a mischievous air.

"Good," I replied. It would have taken a gunshot wound to take me out of the game at that point.

"And your feet? How do they feel?" he asked, stroking his fingers and palms 832/890

beneath my feet and massaging my soles gently. I was slightly ticklish, but he didn't linger long enough to make me laugh. Once I nodded, he moved onto my legs.

"And your calves? Are they okay?" His eyes were growing darker, more intense, and I felt myself starting to breathe quicker, harder.

"They feel fine," I said separating my legs slightly so that he'd know I wanted him to continue. He grazed over my knees and gently massaged higher.

"Are your thighs injured?" he asked, skimming his fingers along the inseam of my leg and pushing my shirt up over the top of my panties. His breath hit the flesh just inside my thigh and my stomach quivered in response. The way his fingers dug gently into 833/890

my skin made me whimper. He hadn't even neared his end goal and I was already close to losing it.

"Liam, that feels so good," I moaned as his thumbs inched higher up my thigh. I could feel his erection against my calf and I had to bite my lip to keep from pleading with him to hurry up. I didn't want to rush him, not when his touch was erasing every bit of sadness and pain from my day.

"Does this make you feel better, baby?"

he asked just as his finger skimmed over the outside of my panties.

I arched my neck and whimpered toward his bedroom ceiling. My wound stung slightly, but the pain was nothing compared to the pleasure stemming from his finger.

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"Yes, it makes me feel... go—good," my voice broke midway through my word as he pushed my panties aside.

"Lie back and spread your legs for me. I don't want you to move. You should be resting," he said just before his mouth pressed against me.