“You don’t know how long I’ve fought this,” he confessed, his voice a rough whisper.
The admission sent a flood of warmth through Sunny’s body, pooling low in her belly. She had suspected, had caught glimpses of his desire in unguarded moments, but hearing him say it aloud made it real in a way that stole her breath.
“Then stop fighting,” she said, her fingers traveling down to the buttons of his shirt. “Just for tonight.”
His eyes darkened at her words, and he captured her mouth again in a kiss that spoke of hunger too long denied. Sunny melted beneath him, surrendering to the sensations cascading through her body. His solid weight above her, the gentle pressure of his lips, the careful exploration of his hands — it all combined to create a sense of rightness, of belonging.
With slightly shaking hands, she undid the buttons of his shirt one by one, revealing the sculpted planes of his chest. Hockey had honed his body into a masterpiece of lean muscle and strength. Sunny spread her palms against the warm skin, feeling the steady thrum of his heartbeat beneath her fingers.
Liam’s breath hitched as she traced the defined ridges of his abdomen, his muscles contracting beneath her touch. When her fingers brushed against a raised line of scar tissue — a souvenir of his profession — he tensed slightly.
“Battle wound?” she asked softly, tracing the scar with gentle fingertips.
“High stick,” he murmured against her neck. “Dallas, 2018.”
Sunny leaned up to press her lips to the mark, a gesture of acceptance, of honoring every part of him. Liam’s eyes fluttered closed at the tender touch, his frame shuddering slightly above her. When he looked at her again, there was a rawness in his gaze.
“You are…” he began, then seemed to struggle for words. “You’re everything I didn’t know I needed, Sunny Thompson.”
The simple honesty of his statement brought a sheen of wetness to her eyes. Sunny had spent so long feeling adrift, wondering if she would ever find a place where she truly belonged. And now, in the most unexpected of circumstances, she had found it — in this broken family, with this wounded man who looked at her as if she were the sunrise after the longest night.
Liam kissed away the tear that escaped down her cheek, his lips feather-light against her skin. Then he was moving again, trailing kisses down the column of her throat, lingering at the hollow where her pulse fluttered wildly. Sunny’s hands clutched at his shoulders, her nails leaving crescent marks in their wake as sensations spiraled through her.
His hands found the hem of her camisole, pausing there in silent question. Sunny nodded, lifting slightly to allow him to draw the fabric upward, revealing inch by inch of her skin to his heated gaze. When the garment was finally tossed aside, Liam sat back on his heels, drinking in the sight of her with such reverence that Sunny felt beautiful in a way she never had before.
“God, look at you,” he breathed, his voice thick with wonder. “So perfect.”
A flush spread across Sunny’s skin at his words. No one had ever looked at her quite like this — as if she were a miracle, something rare and precious to be treasured.
When his hands returned to her body, they moved with newfound purpose, tracing the delicate curves of her collarbone, the slope of hershoulders, the gentle swell of her breasts. Each touch was deliberate, measured, as if he were committing her to memory through his fingertips.
Sunny watched the play of emotions across his face — desire, awe, and something deeper, something that made her heart race for reasons beyond the physical. This wasn’t just passion; this was communion, a meeting of souls as much as bodies.
“You’re shaking,” she whispered, noticing the slight tremor in his hands.
Liam ducked his head slightly, a vulnerability showing through his usual confidence. “It’s been a long time,” he admitted.
The confession touched something deep within Sunny. She reached for him, drawing him back down to her, pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth. “There’s no rush.”
He visibly relaxed at her words, some of the tension leaving his frame. When he kissed her again, it was with renewed confidence, a slow burn that built gradually but inexorably, like a tide coming in. His hands resumed their exploration, mapping the contours of her body with meticulous attention.
Sunny lost herself in the sensations — the warmth of his palms against her skin, the gentle scratch of his stubble against her neck, the weight of him pressing her into the softness of the couch. Time seemed to blur at the edges, stretching and condensing in strange ways as they learnt each other through touch.
Outside, a gentle rain had begun to fall, pattering against the windows in a soothing rhythm that seemed to cocoon them further in their private world. The sound mingled with their quickened breaths and soft murmurs, creating a symphony that belonged only to this moment, only to them.
As Liam’s kisses traveled lower, across her collarbone and toward the swell of her breast, Sunny’s hands found their way into his hair,fingers tangling in the thick strands. A soft gasp escaped her as his mouth closed over the sensitive peak, sending sparks of pleasure shooting through her body.
“Liam,” she breathed again, his name a prayer on her lips.
He looked up at her, eyes dark with desire but still searching, still checking that she was with him, that this was what she wanted. Sunny had never felt so seen, so considered in a moment of passion. It made everything more intense, more meaningful.
“Don’t stop,” she urged, her voice husky with want. “Please don’t stop.”
A slow smile spread across his face — not the cocky grin of the hockey star but something more intimate, more genuine. “I wouldn’t dream of it,” he murmured, before returning his attention to her body with renewed dedication.
Sunny’s world narrowed to sensation — the warm glide of Liam’s mouth across her skin, the gentle pressure of his hands at her waist, the delicious weight of him settling between her thighs.
His name fell from her lips in a breathless litany as he worshiped her body with single-minded focus. Every touch, every kiss seemed designed to unravel her, to break her down to her most essential self. And she welcomed it, this sweet undoing at his hands.
