Fake Dating My Ex's Favourite Hockey Player novel Chapter 199

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.

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.

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