I’m alone out here, nothing but the frigid vapor of my breath to keep me company. I pace, stalking in my heels—they now feel foolish, childish, like a little girl playing dress-up with her mom’s clothes—trying desperately to get myself together.
What is it about Liam Dunne that gets so deep under my skin? Is it that smirk? Is it our history? Is it that acute, piercing familiarity always in his eyes—like he knows, unlike anyone else in the world, who I truly,reallyam?
What I’m capable of?
The door creaks open, and I whirl around, half-expecting Ramsay to have stumbled out after me.
The empty alley goes impossibly stiller.
Liam Dunne slides his hands into his pockets, that infuriating smile on his lips, as the door slams shut behind him.
I can’t keep the anger from my voice. “Are you following me?”
He says nothing, simply nods, once, expression unchanging.
“Are you trying to protect me?”
The nod comes later this time, and his smile falters, just slightly.
The other questions die on my tongue before I can muster the courage to speak them:do you care about me? Did you miss me? Do you love me?
Did you ever love me?
“You look good.”
My eyes snap to his. “Don’t.”
“You do.” He leans against the wall, eyes roving over me in a way that makes me feel stripped naked, laid bare before him. “You’ve really grown up.”
“Don’t patronize me.”
“You know,” he says, running a hand lazily over his chin and cocking his head. “I remember you being a little wittier. Hanging around with that guy, I guess you don’t get much practice.”
Fuck. I straighten reflexively, hands closing into fists. He’s right, and the realization doesn’t make me angry. It triggers some kind of animal instinct to rise, to meet the challenge. To fight.I take a step toward him.
“Jealousy,” I say. “Now that’s something I didn’t know you could feel.”
His eyes flash, but his smile remains. “Pity,” he says, “was the word I was thinking of.”
“You’re the one that deserves my pity,” I say, shaking my head as I take another step toward him. “All those years locked up, and you still can’t stop thinking about me.”
He straightens slightly, jaw tightening. “You’ve got me there.”
Ha. I lift a brow.
“But it was the old Lexie I couldn’t let go of,” Liam says, reaching for me. He touches my lips, so softly, two fingers. “She was courageous. Daring. Sexy.”God, the way he says that word—my knees turn to water. “But this girl…I don’t even recognize her.”
“I’ve grown up,” I say, steel in my voice even though his words hook me under the ribs with their callousness, their cruelty.Their truth. “I’m not the same sweet young girl who lost her virginity to you on some dirty theatre floor.”
The cold and Liam’s presence seem to have burned every trace of alcohol from my blood. I feel more alive, more awake, right here, right now, than I think I have in years.
Liam’s hand falls from my lips to my chin, trailing down my neck, my collarbone…it slides down to the low, tight top of my dress. My heart is raging, heat blooming between my thighs. Liam’s eyes drop to where his fingers linger, sliding slowly between my breasts. He pulls the top of my dress down an inch, two, then releases it and drops his hand.
“You want me,” I say, the realization as shocking as it is gut-wrenching, thrilling, disastrous. “Don’t you?”
His eyes flash to mine, gleaming with something I can’t place. Anger, or loathing, or hunger.
“You haven’t stopped thinking about me,” I whisper, taking a step toward him as though summoned. I tip back my chin, meet his eyes with a dare in mine. “How many times have you imagined it, Liam?”
