Fake Dating My Ex's Favourite Hockey Player - Chapter 65: Chapter 65

EMILIA
His response is instant.
One second, I’m kissing him like I’ve been starving for it — because I have — and the next, his hand fists in my hair, pulling just enough to make me gasp. He swallows the sound with a kiss that’s deeper, rougher, like I’ve just lit a fuse he’s been desperate to keep under control.
Then control shatters.
He walks me back until the counter hits my lower back, and the chill of it is nothing compared to the fire spreading under my skin. His mouth is on mine like he’s claiming something, like he’s making a promise with every breath. Like he’s daring me to pretend I don’t want this as badly as he does.
His other hand grips my waist — firm, possessive, fingers sinking into me like he’s trying to ground himself. There’s no hesitation in his touch. No question. Just a quiet command: You’re not running. Not this time.
“You,” he mutters against my lips, his voice dark and wrecked, “taste like spice.”
I don’t have it in me to laugh. My pulse stutters instead. “Sorry,” I whisper, breathless.
His hand slides back into my hair like he knows exactly where to go, threading through my curls with surprising ease. Like he’s done it a hundred times in his head.
He kisses me once. Then again. And again — each one soft, like he’s trying to hold himself back. I find myself savouring the weight of my mouth against his.
But then he groans, deep and low, and restraint slips through his fingers.
His lips crash into mine, hungrier now. His tongue teases at my bottom lip, coaxing, commanding, until I part for him — and when he finally kisses me fully, properly, it steals the breath straight from my lungs.
He tastes like heat and want and something dangerously addictive.
And God help me, I don’t want him to stop.
When he pulls away, I can’t stop the whimper that slips through and he gives me a dazzling smile.
He leans back just enough to look at me. His eyes are wildfire — hot, dangerous, absolutely consuming. His thumb skims down my cheek, to my jaw, before tilting my chin up, forcing me to meet that gaze.
“Still don’t do hockey players?” His words and their implication are nothing short of cruel, but I’m entranced by the look in his eyes.
“No,” he raises an eyebrow. I correct myself. “Kind of.”
“Good,” he says, voice like velvet over steel. “Because I’m done waiting.”
And then he’s kissing me again, slow and deliberate, like he wants to brand this moment into my bones. Every stroke of his mouth is a demand. Every sigh, every gasp he pulls from me, just adds fuel to the fire already burning between us.
When he lifts me onto the counter, my breath hitches — but not from surprise. From need. He steps between my legs, crowding into my space like he’s always belonged there, his hands roaming like he’s learning me all over again.
His lips drag down my neck, teeth grazing, tongue soothing, and I can’t help it — I arch into him, hands in his hair, pulling, anchoring. There’s no room for air, for thought, for anything except this.
Somewhere in the background, his phone starts to ring — sharp and persistent.
I try to speak, try to push the words past the haze clouding my brain. “Liam… your phone…”
He doesn’t stop.
His mouth moves along the curve of my neck, finding the spot that makes my legs tighten around his hips. “Ignore it,” he mutters, the vibration of his voice sending shivers down my spine.
I try again, weaker this time. “It might be important…”
“I’m busy,” he growls against my skin, and the way his hand slides up my thigh makes me forget what I was even saying in the first place.
The phone keeps ringing. A second time. Then a third.
I grip the back of his shirt, nails digging in, and finally manage to breathe out, “Liam—”
He pulls away, but just barely. His forehead rests against mine, both of us breathing like we’ve run miles.
The ringing finally stops.
When he looks at me, there’s fire in his eyes and a devilish tilt to his lips. “It’s really not that important, I promise.”
I let out a shaky laugh, dazed and flushed, and he kisses me again, quick and tender this time.
“Give me a second,” he says, voice still low and wrecked, brushing his thumb over my kiss-swollen bottom lip like he’s trying to commit it to memory. “Don’t move.”
As he turns away to grab his phone, I sit there on the counter, pulse racing, skin tingling, lips still burning.
“What is it?” he says into the phone, sounding a lot less wrecked than he looks.
I can still see the back of his neck, flushed, his hand raking through his messy hair.
He freezes. “Julie— wait, why are you video calling—?”
Too late. Her face fills the screen.
“Oh, finally!” Julie practically yells, her tone dramatic and annoyed and way too loud for this moment. “You don’t answer texts, you don’t call back, and now I have to FaceTime like some desperate ex!”
Liam groans, dragging a hand down his face. “Julie—”
“No, don’t ‘Julie’ me! I swear to God, Liam, if I have to hear from Mum that you’re still alive one more time, I’m going to put your number on a missing person’s flyer.”
I cover my mouth to hide my laugh, but her voice is too clear not to carry.
Julie squints. “Was that a laugh? Is someone there with you?”
Liam stiffens.
He turns just slightly, eyes flicking to me like he’s debating whether to lie or not.
“Julie,” he says with the slow caution of someone trying not to step on a landmine, “this is Emilia.”
Then Julie gasps — gasps — like she’s just been handed a baby goat and a diamond ring at once. “Wait. Is this the Emilia? Oh, my God. Why am I so nervous? Why are you so pretty?”
Her face fills the screen, she looks just like Liam and for some reason that makes me nervous.
He groans again, shoulders slumping in defeat. “Julie, seriously—”
“Nope. Shut up. I’m living for this. Hi, Emilia!” she waves, grinning so wide I’m almost afraid her face will split.
I give a sheepish little wave from the counter, still half breathless and wildly underdressed for this moment. “Hi…?”
“I’m your biggest fan, just ask Liam. When he first told me you were his girlfriend I had your pictures printed and pasted all over my bedroom—”
“She’s joking,” Liam hurriedly cuts in and I laugh.
“Did Liam tell you I’m gay? Like, very, very gay? Yeah, so if you get tired of him just know there’s a prettier version of him lying around waiting for you. My boobs are perky too.”
Now I’m full on cackling. Liam makes a strangled sound. “I’m ending this call.”
“Rude,” Julie says, rolling her eyes. “Also— Liam? Be good to her. Or I’ll fly over there and make things real awkward.”
And just before he hangs up, I hear her mutter, “About damn time, though.”