He holds my gaze in a quiet, steady way that makes it feel like the room shrinks around us.
“I wouldn’t let you in if I didn’t think you belonged here,” he says.
It hits low in my stomach, warm and terrifying in the best way.
We clean up the table, but the air between us feels different now, in a way that makes it hard to think about anything besides the fact that he is standing a few feet away and watching me like he likes what he sees.
Our hands brush when we both reach for the same wrapper, we both pause.
His eyes meet mine, steady and sure, and it feels like we are picking up right where we left off earlier at the Inn, no words needed.
I take a small step toward him without planning it. He takes one too. Neither of us pretends we don’t know what is happening.
“What are we doing?” I ask quietly, more curious than nervous.
He studies me for a beat, slow and focused. “Letting this happen,” he says. “Finally.”
My pulse jumps. “Yeah,” I breathe. “That sounds right.”
The space between us disappears, slow and certain, like we both decided at the exact same time that tonight was going to change everything.
I touch his shirt lightly with my fingertips. “Liam.”
“Yeah?”
“Come here.”
He kisses me like he’s been waiting for permission to lose control. His hand curls around my jaw, possessive, steady, while my fingers fist in his shirt and pull him down, dragging our bodies flush. That low growl in his throat vibrates against my lips and shoots straight through me, pooling heat deep between my legs.
His hands are under my shirt in seconds, sliding over my skin with heat and hunger, thumbs grazing under the swell of my breasts. I gasp, already arching into him. The contact is electric. My back hits the bed as he presses me down, his mouth never breaking from mine, one knee nudging between my thighs like he knows exactly what I need before I say it.
When he finally pulls back, breath ragged, pupils blown, he looks at me like I’m the only thing left in the world.
“Tell me if you want me to stop.”
“I won’t.” The words come out low, certain, soaked in need.
That’s all it takes. He dives back in, his mouth hot on mine, his tongue pushing deep as his hands strip my shirt over my head, fingers yanking at the clasp of my bra until I’m barebeneath him. His mouth breaks away only to trail down my neck, open-mouthed kisses dragging fire along my skin, down to my breasts. He licks over one nipple, slow and firm, before pulling it into his mouth and sucking until my breath shatters into a moan.
“Fuck…Liam…”
He groans, one hand sliding down to undo my jeans, dragging them past my hips, taking my underwear with them. I lift to help him, desperate to be naked, to feel everything. He pauses, eyes raking down my body with a kind of reverent hunger that makes me squirm. Then he sheds his clothes.
When he climbs back over me, completely bare, his cock thick and hard and pressing against my thigh, my whole body tightens in anticipation.
“Look at me,” he says, and I do. His voice has gone deep and gravelly, his breath hot against my cheek. “Still sure?”
“God, yes,” I whisper, wrapping my legs around him and pulling him in.
He slides his hand between us, fingers dipping into me first, and the moment he feels how soaked I am, he lets out a filthy groan that makes my thighs clench.
“Jesus, baby… you’re fucking dripping.”
He strokes me once, slow and firm, then lines himself up and pushes in, thick and steady. My mouth falls open. My fingers dig into his shoulders. The stretch is perfect, almost too much, and I feel every inch as he fills me.
“Fuuuck,” I breathe, head falling back. “You feel so good.”
His hips rock forward, inching deeper until he’s all the way inside, hips flush to mine, and we both freeze there for a moment. My body clenches around him, already pulsing with need, and he hisses through his teeth.
