A wave of warmth washes over me, starting in my chest and spreading downwards. It’s not just the apartment’s heating. It’s a sudden, dizzying rush of awareness, of want, and it’s directed squarely at the man standing in my living room.
My thoughts are interrupted by a louddingfrom the kitchen. The oven timer. I practically run in that direction, needing a task, a distraction. I rummage through a drawer, looking for the oven mitts I know are in here somewhere.
“I got it,” Liam says, his voice close behind me. He reaches past me, his arm brushing against mine, and pulls the lasagna from the oven with his bare hands, like the heat is nothing. He sets the hot dish on the stovetop and turns to me, a grin spreading across his face. “Smells fucking incredible.”
I nod, my throat suddenly dry. But I’m not talking about the lasagna. He smells like me. He’s used my shower, and my scent is all over him. It’s making me feel a little dizzy, a possessive, primal thrill that I have no right to feel.
It’s just like when Maddox came in here smelling like Liam, and my whole world tilted on its axis. They need to stop doing that. This cross-contamination of scents is going to drive me insane.
“You okay?” he asks, his voice softening. He touches my arm, his fingers warm against my skin. “You look a little flushed.”
I nod, pulling away slightly. “I’m fine. Just hungry.”
“Let’s eat,” he agrees.
We eat at the small table in the corner, the conversation flowing easier than I expected. We talk about nothing and everything—the ridiculous plot of the video game, the latest gossip from the firehouse, Maren’s new obsession with sourdough bread. It’s comfortable. It’s us. After dinner, we do the dishes together, a silent, synchronized dance of washing and drying that feels more intimate than it should.
When we’re done, he lets out a contented sigh.
“Can I… can I ask for something?” I say, the words tumbling out before I can stop them.
“Anything,” he says, his eyes searching mine.
“Can I see it?” I whisper. “The tattoo.”
He lets out a soft curse, directed at Maddox. “Of course he told you.” But then he sighs, a small, resigned smile playing on his lips. He peels the T-shirt over his head in one smooth motion, and my breath catches.
There it is. A mess of jagged, dark lines, a broken circle with flames licking at the edges. And in the center, a single, stark letter “M.” My initial. He got a tattoo with my symbol in it, a permanent mark of his pain.
My hand reaches out, almost of its own accord, and I trace the edges of the inked “M.” The skin is warm, and I can feel the faint, raised texture of the scar tissue beneath.
“Did it hurt?” I ask, my voice barely a whisper.
He turns to face me, and the shift in position brings us incredibly close. The warmth from his bare chest radiates toward me, a magnetic pull. He looks down at me, his eyes dark and intense.
“Not at the time,” he says.
His hand comes up, his fingers gently cupping my cheek. His thumb strokes my skin, a slow, maddening caress. I lean into his touch, my eyes fluttering shut. This is it. This is the moment.
“Millie,” he says, his voice strained.
In my head, a war is raging. Why can’t we just be friends with benefits? Why can’t we fuck one last time, just to get this out of our systems?
The thoughts are selfish, reckless, and so, so tempting. I want to say it. I want to beg him for just one night, no strings, no promises, just this.
But I don’t. Because I know it would be a lie. It would never be just one night. And it would be selfish of me to ask him to riskhis heart all over again when I’m still so terrified of risking my own.
Instead, I pull back, breaking the spell. “I need to head to bed,” I say, my voice shaking slightly. “I’m… I’m exhausted.”
He nods, dropping his hand from my face, and the loss of his touch is a physical ache. He leans in and presses a soft, chaste kiss to my forehead.
“Goodnight, Millie.”
“Goodnight, Liam.”
I retreat to my bedroom, closing the door behind me. I lie down on my bed, the sheets cool against my overheated skin. My heart is still racing, my body humming with an unfulfilled energy.
What the hell is wrong with me?
