He stays still for a beat, both of us panting like we’ve just run a marathon.
And then he starts to move. Long, slow, devastating thrusts that feel like they’re going to unmake me. He kisses me between every thrust, his mouth soft and sure, whispering things against my lips that make my heart ache even as my body begs for more.
The heat builds slowly, a simmering, overwhelming pressure that has me clawing at his back, my cries muffled against his mouth.
He grinds deep on every stroke, hitting every spot inside me that makes stars explode behind my eyes.
And when I come shaking, gasping his name like a prayer, he’s right there with me, groaning low and broken against my mouth as he follows me over the edge.
We lie there afterward, tangled up, sweaty and spent, our bodies still pressed tight together like we’re afraid of losing even an inch of contact.
I’m still catching my breath when he brushes my hair back from my face, kisses my forehead, and grins down at me.
“You still good for twice, honey?” he teases, already sliding his hand down between us, finding the slick, sensitive place where we’re still joined.
I can barely form words.
All I can do is nod and whimper as he thrusts into me again, harder this time, rougher, no slow build-up. Just raw, relentless, beautiful ruin.
“Good,” he growls against my ear, pinning my hands above my head with one strong hand as he drives into me. “Because I'm not stopping until you know exactly who you belong to.”
“You,” I pant, still clinging to him, still trembling.
“That's fucking right,” Liam growls, hips grinding down in a final, brutal thrust that sends both of us spiraling.
I scream his name, my body writhing under his as he roars through his own release, collapsing against me with a shudder. We lie there, boneless, gasping for air, the room spinning around us.
I’m just starting to come down when the doorbell rings.
We both groan in unison.
“I swear to God,” Liam mutters, pressing a kiss to my collarbone as he rolls off me, reaching blindly for his boxers. “If that’s Charlie again…”
I laugh breathlessly, tugging the tangled sheets up around me.
“Third time’s a charm,” I tease.
He glances over his shoulder with a wicked grin. “Hmm. I like the way you think. Once I send Charlie on her way, we’ll talk about a third round in here.”
I giggle, flopping back against the bed, completely blissed out.
But when minutes pass and Liam doesn't come back a prickle of unease crawls down my spine.
Still wrapped in the afterglow, I tug on one of his shirts and my jeans, padding barefoot down the hall toward the living room.
I round the corner and slam straight into a wall of tension so thick it nearly chokes me.
Liam stands near the doorway, his body rigid with barely leashed anger. Staring him down with that same cold, sharp glint in his eyes is his father. Even without hearing a word, I know. This isn’t a friendly visit. The air crackles around them.
Both men are tall, broad-shouldered, and stubborn to the bone, but while Liam's rage feels righteous and protective, his father's presence feels toxic.
Whatever this is, it’s not good.
And somehow, deep down, I know that whatever happens next it changes everything.
16
Before I can even think about backing away, Liam’s father turns toward me, his eyes sweeping over me in a way that makes my skin crawl.
