Page 29 of Pressure Point

“Sorry?”

“I’ve never really worn it, so I don’t know where to start.”

Makeup. She was talking about makeup.

She wandered over to one of the counters, spinning the display of colors that sat on top. Liam watched as her shoulders sagged, like a balloon slowly deflating. It was like all the excitement and confidence she’d found while wearing the dress was leaking out of her with each new shade of—what was that, eyeshadow?—that she looked at.

“I’m sure this comes as a surprise, but I’ve never worn it either,” he joked, moving to her side. The rack in front of him looked like a crayon box with all its bright colors. No one actually wore that shade of purple on their face, did they? “But I’m sure we can find someone to help.”

“Well, hello there,” a feminine voice greeted them. “Is there something specific I can help you with?”

Looking up, Liam found the face that went with the voice, recoiling back as he took her in. The young woman was dressed in a black leather jumpsuit, her eyelids painted in the exact shade of bright purple he’d just been looking at, and then lined with a glittery teal color. Her lips were a bright red that reminded him of the Union Jack and looked sticky enough that he wasn’t sure how she even opened her mouth. He stopped himself from shuddering, not wanting to be rude, but there was no way he was letting this woman anywhere near Avery.

“I—” Avery started.

“Just looking at the pretty colors,” he said, cutting her off. Gently grabbing her elbow, he guided her away from the counter, desperately looking for one that looked more normal.

“But I need makeup,” she commented, looking up at him quizzically.

“You don’t need it, Avery. You’re beautiful without it.”

“Liam, don’t—”

“I’m not just saying that. Listen to the guy who spent eight years with a girl who spent hours every day trying to look natural. You don’t need it. But, if you want it, then we’re going to find you a place that isn’t going to turn you into a clown.”

Avery giggled, and his heart leapt at the sound. Fuck, he liked that way too much.

Weaving their way through the beauty section, they dodged a couple of salespeople holding out fragrance samples. Avery wrinkled her nose as one gentleman spritzed his selection in their general path, and it was Liam’s turn to laugh. His hand itched to take hold of hers and lace their fingers together as they walked, but he knew that would be crossing a line. A line he already almost crossed once.

“There. There’s Atira. It’s all natural, so you won’t look like a toddler took a magic marker to your face.”

“You know Atira?”

“It’s what Orla wore,” he muttered, hating to have to utter her name again. He hadn’t talked this much about her in months. The only other person in Atlanta who knew anything about her was Gunnar, and he’d witnessed the whole thing firsthand. He’d been there for Liam through the breakup and was always there to listen when he needed it, but never pushed him either. Avery, on the other hand, seemed to make him want to spill all his secrets. Well, maybe not all, but most. “She was really into all this stuff.”

“Maybe it was because I was raised by a single dad, with two older brothers, but I’ve never had any interest,” she told him, picking up a tube of lipstick and twisting the bottom so the color appeared. Shaking her head no, she twisted it back and replaced it in the display, picking up another and repeating the process. “Unless there was a chemistry lesson behind how it was made. That would have interested me as a teen. While all the other girls were at the mall playing with this stuff, I was off reading somewhere. Even now, it just all seems so overwhelming.”

“What about university?” he asked, prompting her to continue. He liked learning about her and wanted to know whatever she was willing to tell him.

“I thought for a hot second that maybe I could learn a few things from my roommate, but then I actually met Hazel. And while she’s, like, a billion times girlier than I am, she was on an athletic scholarship, so she lived in sweats. When we did go out, she would just do my makeup.”

Liam watched her as she continued to look at the different lip colors, pursing her lips and crinkling her nose as she debated. His whole body ached to feel her pressed up against him again, to find out exactly how sweet those pretty pink lips tasted. Hell, he’d settle for a quick, stolen peck on the cheek right now. Anything to be able to show her everything he was feeling for her and just how amazing she was all on her own. No special dress or makeup needed.

Turning to face him, she held up a tube of what appeared to be lip gloss, with a shimmery berry color inside. “What about this one?”

“Err, sure?” he answered her with a shrug. Watching her play dress-up had been one thing, but this makeup stuff was hard.

“Would it make you want to kiss me?”

Well, fuck…

That was a loaded question if Liam had ever heard one. He already wanted to kiss her. Already wanted to do all sorts of dirty things to her and make her understand what it felt like to be adored. Not that he was going to admit any of that out loud.

Had she missed what happened in that dressing room? Did she not feel the same pull he did? He’d been so close to kissing her, a small part of him wishing he’d just done it. Then maybe they’d be having a different conversation right now. One where she wasn’t trying to pick out lipstick to impress his teammate. Or maybe they wouldn’t be having a conversation at all, but would still be in that dressing room, making out like their lives depended on it.

Betraying him, his mind flashed to the feel of her under his fingertips. The soft satin leading to ever softer skin as he ran his hand over her hip and down her skirt, slipping up under the hem and back up her thigh. He wondered what he would have found right at that dip where her thigh met her ass. Was she a thong girl? His dick twitched just thinking about the smooth skin of her rear, his fingers digging into the skin as he picked her up, their mouths fused together, hot and heavy.

“I’ll take your silence as a no,” she commented, after he’d been quiet for what was probably a beat too long. He couldn’t help it. He didn’t have a good answer for her question and had been too lost in thinking about just how much he wanted her.