“Okay. I’ll slow down.”
He does nothing of the sort. If anything, his hips go deeper into mine.
“Liam, if you don’t stop moving, I’m going to—”
“Come like this?” he groans into my chest. “Yeah, I think you should. Screw the deal. I’ll go down on you in the morning.” His lips go back to my breasts.
I start whimpering like some kind of wounded thing, chasing the feeling, forcing it farther away so I can chase it more. My hands are on Liam, and his are on me, and our bodies areoneach other, again and again and again.
“Do it, Paige,” he mumbles, sounding boyish and lost. “Come while I ride you like this and then you’ll get to ride me.”
“I’m gonna.”
“Yeah, you are.” His thrusts are shorter, harder. My body is carved deep into his mattress.
“Right now,” I say.
“Now?”
“Yes, Liam, right n—”
He kisses me, swallowing my sounds while his body rocks and mine implodes. Andthat, I’m pretty sure, is the moment my chromosomes are altered, the moment Liam Bishop writes himself into my DNA.
He goes strangely quiet after that, peppering tiny kisses on my cheekbones, my nose, my chin. My hands hook loosely onto his elbows, too tired to feel but desperate to touch him back. He takes off my shorts, peels down my underwear, kisses up my thigh to my stomach. Liam whispers for me to sit up, and I do, and he lifts my shirt and bra over my head.
I pull him close, tumbling my arms over his shoulders so I can claw at the fabric on his back and tug it over his head. His chest is all hard lines, sculpted from training. I rub my hands down his stomach, catching the way he shivers, and unbutton his jeans, pushing the pants and boxers off his hips.
Liam nods at me once when I ask permission with my eyes, and I grip him softly in my hands, feeling, for once, totally in control. He falls out of it, rolling out his neck, hands on my thigh, my shoulder.
“Feels good, Paige,” he murmurs, eyes closed.
I love that Liam keeps calling me by name. Reminding me that he knows exactly who he’s in bed with tonight. On purpose, by accident, I don’t care. I just love it.
“Stop now,” he says, and I do. Liam tugs open a drawer, rips open a foil, slides on a condom. He kisses me again and crawls upmy body, pushing me against the mattress, then reclines until we’re tangled and horizontal.
“Do you want to?” he asks, his mouth by my ear again. “I thought you might like it, but I could have guessed wrong.”
“I want to,” I say. “I might be bad at it.”
He shakes his head. “I’ll show you how.”
Liam urges me on top of him, his broad chest heaving, and places my knees near his torso. His eyes hold mine even as he grips himself, then finds the place to join our bodies.
We hover there on the precipice of it, barely touching. Something clicks behind his eyes.
“Take your time, Bristol. I’m not going anywhere.”
I sink onto him inch by inch, feeling close to tears. This is more emotional than I was expecting, but it also just feels sopure, sogood. Not only because our bodies are finally married, but because I am his favorite person and he’s my best friend, and we were always, one thousand percent supposed to do this.
I’m on him, over him, haven’t even moved yet, and Liam’s eyes are rolling back in his head. I splay my hands on his chest, gripping the skin. Give an experimental forward tug. It feels amazing. For him, too, based on the way he groans.
“Wow,” I say, doing it again.
Liam chokes on a laugh, scratching his nails lightly down my thighs.
I can touch him however I want like this. Make him sit forward or lie back, kiss his lips or his chest or even suck his fingers into my mouth. I do all of it, offering tentative suggestions at first, then downright commands when he responds eagerly. We lose ourselves in how good it feels, and Liam mumbles things likeI adore youandharderandI knew you were gonna love this, fucking knew it.
I push against his hips, whining as I climax again, and only then does Liam take control, steeling his grip on my waist as he shovesup into me. Quick and dirty, like he’d been waiting so patiently. “Perfect,” he snaps, then grabs my ass in his palms and shoves into me deeper, locating every last drop of sensation in a fever. “You’re perfect.”
