Wicked Heart (Starcrossed #3)(54)

I try to enjoy the moment, but I get a flash of what would happen if Angel walked through the door right now. How she would feel seeing me, jeans hanging open, Liam clutching me and breathing heavily against my skin.

It would devastate her.

As much as I acknowledge my own selfishness, I also know I could never hurt her like that.

I put my hands on his shoulders and push him back. “Liam—”

“I know.” He falls against the couch and pushes the heels of his hands into his eyes. “I know I have to resist, but whenever you’re near I just . . . can’t think straight.”

I exhale and refasten my jeans. “I’m to blame, too. Clearly, there’s still an attraction between us, and hugging isn’t the best way to deal with that.”

“It’s not the hugging,” he says. “It’s just being together. It’s always been this way. Look.”

He leans forward and takes my hand. I’m about to tell him to stop when he slowly pushes his fingers between mine. Skin slides against skin, soft and sensitive.

Ohhhhh, God.

Such a simple, innocent gesture, but I feel it everywhere.

“See? I can’t even hold your hand.” He gently pulls his fingers back, then pushes them in again. My eyelids flutter as I try to keep breathing.

He keeps staring into my eyes, and I have no choice but to stare back. He continues to caress my fingers, but doesn’t touch me anywhere else. He doesn’t have to. I feel it so strongly in every part of my body, he might as well be grazing my breasts, or my thighs, or have his hand in my pants.

Judging from how dilated his pupils are, he’s just as turned on as I am.

“See? This is the problem.” His voice is low and husky. “I’ve spent years trying to block out how you look. And sound. And feel. And before this show, I’d gotten pretty good at it. But now, here you are, in front of me every day, and it blows my mind that a single touch from you still has the power to ruin me. And whenever it happens, I forget about the choices I’ve made, and the circus my life’s become, and I want you. Consequences be damned.”

“Liam, you’re engaged. To an amazing woman.”

“I know.” He looks down at our hands for a few seconds, then shakes his head. “Believe me, I know.” He brushes his thumb across the back of my hand. “And dragging you into the shitstorm of my life wouldn’t be fair, to you or to Angel. I knew what I’d be sacrificing when I made a commitment to her, and I refuse to be one of those assholes who thinks he can have it all, because I know very well I can’t.”

So there it is. He didn’t come out and say, “No matter how much I feel for you, I’m still going to marry Angel,” but that’s what I heard.

After a few more seconds, he slowly pulls his fingers free from mine and lets out a ragged breath. “So, yeah. I can’t touch you. I have to think of you as my friend, and nothing more.”

I put my hands on my hips and exhale. “Maybe being alone together is a bad idea.”

“No, we can do this. Please.” He goes to take my hand again, but catches himself. “I need you—as my stage manager, if nothing else. But, if you could also find a way to stop being so insanely attractive, I’d appreciate it.”

I almost laugh. “Uh-huh. I’ll get right on that.”

His expression turns serious. “Don’t do that.”

“What?”

“Act like I’m saying that out of obligation or pity. I’m not.”

“Well, Liam, come on. Look who you’re engaged to and then look at me. There’s no comparison.”

He stands and looks down at me, and his athletic shorts aren’t doing a thing to disguise how aroused he is right now. “You’re right. And if you had any clue of what you do to me—what you’ve always done to me—you’d know that.”

I can’t help but glance down. “Well, I guess even if I doubted you, I can’t doubt him.”

He looks down, then rubs his forehead and sighs. “Okay, so, standing up wasn’t a great idea. Just ignore it. It’ll go away eventually.”

“Uh-huh.”

He sits on the couch, and I sit next to him.

“Okay, then,” I say, in my most authoritative voice. “Here’s how it’s going to work: We’re going to run lines and discuss the show when necessary. There will be no touching. No reminiscing. No unprofessional behavior of any kind. If either of us fails to adhere to these rules, this arrangement is terminated and I’ll find someone else to run your lines. Agreed?”

“Agreed.” He stares at me for a few seconds, then grabs his beer and takes a long drink. When he turns back to me, he’s frowning. “I’m tempted to tell you how incredibly hot I found that entire rant, but that would be highly unprofessional, so I’ll keep it to myself.”

A nervous laugh bursts out of me. “Liam?”

“Yeah?”

“Just for the record, I’ve missed you, too.” Way more than you’ll ever know.

He gives me a warm smile. “Thank you, Liss.”

I open my script, and don’t bother reminding him I’ve requested he call me Elissa. Liss is the girl who still goes weak at the knees for him, and right now, I need to be slick, professional Elissa more than ever.