His eyes are shadowed, but I have to ask, “Did you tell them about what’s going on amongst the three of us?”
He shakes his head.
I don’t press. It’s not my place.
Not yet.
I nod and return to the guitar, strumming the opening chords again, softer this time.
“Play it for me?” he asks after a beat.
“It’s only a germ of an idea.” I look into his eyes. “Maybe worth finishing, though.”
His knees brush mine. He doesn’t reach for me. Doesn’t need to. The silence isn’t awkward. It’s thick with everything we’ve lived the past few days and the hope it will continue indefinitely.
“I know you’re still figurin’ everything out. I’m not trying to insert myself where I don’t belong.” He shifts slightly.
“I…” I trail off, choosing my words carefully. “When we were on the road, writing together, it felt natural. The way you and I fit. I feel like I already knew the chords to your voice.”
He watchesme.
I keep going. “I’m not saying you need new energy. I’m not saying I’m the answer. But if you ever might consider me… I’d be interested.”
His gaze drops to my hands. My fingers twitch against the strings.
One hand reaches for his. His thumb brushes mine once. Solid, but tentative.
I set the guitar down next to me. “I’m interested in all of it.”
He turns toward me. His lips brush mine before either of us knows who moved first. Soft. A taste. Then again, deeper. He cups my cheek. My fingers curl into his hair as I pull him closer. We kiss like we’re discovering the shape of something new.
The two of us.
He pulls his shirt off. My breath catches at the way his body looks in the gray Dublin light. Lean, tattooed. I lift my arms and allow him peel his shirt from me. He kisses my collarbone, then the swell of my breast, then lower, kneeling on the floor before me.
His mouth finds my soaked pussy. He licks a stripe up the center and I gasp, thighs twitching, fingers digging into his waves. “Nnnh—Liam…”
He groans against me, tongue circling my clit. “You taste—fuck—so sweet.” His voice is ragged.
I rock against his mouth, riding the rhythm. His fingers dig into my thighs, holding me steady. His moan vibrates through me.
“F-fuck—I—God—don’t stop—”
I unravel around him, hips bucking, a soft wail dragged from the center of me. “Aahhh—yes!”
He climbs back up, mouth glistening, eyes wide and hungry. I pull him into a kiss, taste myself on his lips. Then I nod.
He understands.
He lineshimself up, guides the tip of his cock against my opening then pushes in, filling me inch by inch. My legs wrap around his waist, ankles crossing. He sinks in fully and stills, forehead hovering above mine.
“Feels like I never left,” he murmurs.
“You didn’t.”
He fucks me like he’s confessing how he feels with every thrust, every grind of hips. I meet him stroke for stroke, cupping his face, kissing his mouth through it all.
When he comes, he cries out, low and guttural. “Fuck—Avonna…”
