Liam’s eyes hold mine across the rim of his glass, and I feel that familiar pull between us—the one that started in the Red Room and hasn’t faded since.
“True enough,” he says. “Twenty hours from now, we’ll be sharing more than just drinks.”
I swirl the amber liquid in my glass. “You nervous about it?”
“About Cora?”
“About all of it. The four of us living together. Sharing...” I trail off, not sure how to articulate the complexity of what we’re embarking on.
Liam studies me with that lawyer’s gaze that seems to read everything I’m not saying. “I’ve never done anything like this before.”
“None of us have.” I lower my voice. “But I can’t stop thinking about her. The way she looked at me in the bath when I was washing her hair. Like she wanted to hate me but couldn’t quite manage it.”
“She has every right to hate us,” Liam says, guilt flashing across his features.
“But she doesn’t. Not completely.” I take another drink, feeling the bourbon warm my chest. “And I can’t stop thinking about you and Dom either.”
Liam’s expression shifts subtly. He leans forward, close enough that I catch the scent of his cologne. “Is that so?”
“Don’t act surprised. You felt it too—when we were all together.”
His fingers tap thoughtfully against his glass. “I did. I do.”
The admission hangs between us. I think about reaching for his hand, but don’t. Not yet.
The bourbon hits me in a warm, pleasant wave. Two glasses in and I’m feeling looser, watching Liam’s long fingers trace the rim of his tumbler. I can’t help remembering those same fingers gripping my hips in the Red Room, the way they dug into my flesh when he was behind me.
“You know what’s funny?” I lean in, voice dropping lower. “After everything we’ve done together, all the ways we’ve been with Cora, each other... I wouldn’t mind having some fun with just you tonight.”
Liam’s eyebrows rise, and he pulls back slightly. “Tonight? Without the others?”
“Why not?” I shrug, maintaining eye contact. “No masks, no revenge plots. Just two guys who clearly have chemistry.”
“That was just during the Hunt,” he says, but I notice he doesn’t move his hand when I place mine close to his on the table.
“Was it?” I trail a finger across his knuckles. “I think it could be whenever we want.”
Liam takes another sip of his drink. The initial resistance in his eyes shifts to something more playful. “You’re trouble, Caldwell.”
“So I’ve been told.”
He leans forward, confidence returning with that perfectly practiced smile that disarms judges and juries alike. “And what exactly did you have in mind? Since you’ve clearly been thinking about it.”
The bourbon makes me bolder. “I say we make use of one of the private rooms here in Purgatory. No need to wait until tomorrow to start exploring what this is between us.”
Liam’s smile turns wicked, all resistance gone. “Well, I do like to be thorough in my... explorations.” He finishes his drink and stands, straightening his suit jacket with a fluid motion. “Let’s see if you’re as good without an audience.”
We walk through Purgatory’s dimly lit corridors, past rooms where moans and gasps escape through thick doors. My heart pounds against my ribs like I’m some fucking teenager about to get his first taste. Which is ridiculous because we’ve already crossed so many lines together, but somehow this feels different.
“You sure you know where you’re going?” Liam asks, his voice carrying that amused edge I’ve come to recognize.
“Third door on the right,” I reply, surprised my voice sounds steady when everything inside me is electric. “Xavier keeps it reserved for VIPs.”
The attendant recognizes us immediately, nodding deferentially as she unlocks the door. “Enjoy your evening, gentlemen.”
The room is all dark wood and burgundy velvet, dominated by a massive bed. But we don’t make it that far.
The moment the door clicks shut behind us, I turn to Liam, and something snaps. I grab his perfectly pressed lapels and push him against the wall, pressing my body flush against his.
