“What do you like?” he asks, teeth pulling at my earlobe.
“Huh?” It manages to sound like a question, which is good, since it was actually just a badly disguised moan.
Liam pauses, lifting his head to catch my eyes. He looks drugged himself. Out of sorts. His voice is broken, rasping. “Is there something you particularly like during sex?”
Liam’s eyes track to my blushing throat and darken. “Did that embarrass you?” he asks.
“No,” I lie. He looks back at me, face softening. “I’ve never thought about it in specifics,” I explain.
“With me, it will be specific. Specific toyou.”
That is the hottest thing I’ve ever heard in my life, but it doesn’t help me answer his question.
“I like talking,” Liam offers, one of his palms moving over my heart. It speeds. “You don’t have to say anything back if you don’t want to. I just sometimes can’t help it.”
“Like dirty talk?”
“Not that dirty,” he says, voice low, a wink of amusement in it. He’s still staring at his hand over my heart. “Just… actively verbal.”
I nod my understanding. “Okay.”
He waits for me, all patience and restraint. I’m not getting around this, I realize. Communicating my sexual needs to him. How novel.
A flash of my sex with Evan goes in my mind, then immediately out of it.
“I like touching,” I say. “I mean, obviously, but I want to be able to touch you whenever I feel like it. Which will probably be the whole time.”
I see the question in Liam’s eyes and answer it before he can ask. “Like, I don’t want you to pin my wrists with your hands or ask me to keep my palms on the headboard or the wall. I want it to be like… like webothget to touch each other.”
Understanding floods him. Followed by a flash of pity, but Liam quickly wipes it away, and thank goodness. Tonight is only about us.
“You can put your hands on any part of me,” he whispers, “whenever you feel like it.”
“Me too,” I echo. “I want you to touch me, Liam.”
His lips find mine again, and his palm on my heart goes down to my breast. He squeezes it, rubs a thumb over the peak, and I keen at his touch, molten. He grabs at the belt loop of my jean shorts, and Liam uses the leverage to angle our hips together. He pulls my bottom lip between his teeth and sucks on it leisurely. The combined effect of everywhere he’s touching me turns me into a version of myself I haven’t met. She makes sounds I didn’t know I was capable of. She arches her back and juts her hips forward in an unfamiliar contortion.
“Your body,” Liam drawls, his face dropping down to my chest, “was made to my exact specifications. Did you know that?”
I shake my head as he tugs my shirt down. It’s stretchy and rests underneath my boobs, propping them up in my lace bra. Liam sets my back against his bed. I recline, feet dangling, while he uses a knee to knock my legs apart and step between them. His elbows rest on either side of my shoulders and his fingers go to my hair.
“It’s like you were ripped from my head,” he whispers, eyes on my face before they drop to my chest. “The first time I saw you, I thought,No way. There’s no way that girl actually exists outside my brain.Your curly brown hair and the way you blush and the flash of brilliance in your pretty green eyes right before you say something that keeps me on the edge of my seat. You’re the fucking blueprint, and that’s why this is going to be so goddamn specific.”
He punctuates the sentence with a soft thrust, and since Liam is still on his feet, he has all the control. I hum at the ceiling and grab for his hair when his mouth lowers to my chest, hips rocking delicately into mine. I am absolutely gone, lost in the sensation. My hands roam his back, comb through his hair, brush across his earlobes.
“Liam,” I sigh.
“That’s who, exactly.” He replaces his mouth with his fingers on my nipples and tips our noses against each other, giving me one more earth-shattering cant of his hips. “I want to make you a deal, Paige.”
I laugh throatily, my hand on his cheek, my thumb brushing over one set of his eyelashes. He lets me. “A deal?”
“Yeah.” Liam pushes his bottom lip into his teeth. “I want to go down on you. Which means I’ll be the one touching. But after, you’ll—” His voice breaks when he says “ride me,” and he gently rocks his hips again. “You’ll be in charge then. What do you think?”
“I’ve never done either of those things,” I admit.
His face drops to my shoulder and his hand trails to my hip. “Oh, my fucking God, Bristol, baby.” Liam grips my hip, lifts it. Rocks our bodies. “I think you will love them.”
“I’m already close,” I warn him.
