My hand moves her underwear to the side, and she bites her lip at the burning need of my touch. I know exactly what she needs, and I need to touch her like I need air. I rub her clit and her head falls back, stifling a moan.
My lips rest so close to hers, our breaths catching, buzzing, the vibration of our souls screaming. I want to plunge my fingers inside her but seeing her so needy is awakening the pure animalistic need to play with her first.
“If you’re going to kiss me again, Liam, then do it and don’t you dare touch me with regret.” She quietly murmurs against my all-consuming hunger.
Her assertiveness burns me up, but the line we’re about to cross haunts me like Joe’s ghost at my back.
“Sara, my only regret is that I didn’t ruin you first.”
I thread her hair through my fist, lowering my gaze, my lips over hers, when a noise cracks by the window and my gut drops.
Twenty-Three
Sara
My hands are in his hair, and I pull him closer and closer, until an unfamiliar ache takes over my chest as his fingers barely touch me where I just need him to make me unravel.
I want him to take it all—my fear, my sadness, my anger. I want to lose myself in him, to be reduced to the sensation of what it’s like to find peace in someone like Liam. But just as I forget the rest of the world exists, he goes rigid. He pulls away, chest heaving, eyes fixed on the window.
My skin goes cold when I compute that someone is in front of my house, watching me again. The heat of the moment turnsinto anger; I feel so violated, but a foreign feeling comes over me, knowing that he’s here to protect me. I had never had that before.
I’m not alone, but I don’t want to get used to whatever this feeling is.
Liam’s hand clamps around my waist, yanking me behind him as he stalks to the window, and there’s a shadow, a flicker of movement, with the unmistakable glint of eyes in the darkness. My heart officially drops. It’s one thing to assume someone is there, but to actually see glacial eyes staring back at you is entirely terrifying.
“Fuck. Stay here, Sara.”
Liam opens the door, silent as a cat, and slips out. I can hear his footsteps, purposeful, fading as he circles the house. My chest tries to break out of my ribs while I wait, counting every breath, every beat.
At first, I strongly believed Liam was playfully stalking me, and let’s be honest, no one should ever permit stalking, but a small part of me felt relieved thinking it was Liam but now, I’m genuinely scared. It has progressively gotten worse, and being at home alone more and more hasn’t made it easier. I’ve lost hours of sleep the past few months, waking up at any little sound. It’s as if I’m growing weary of sleeping vulnerably, and that’s not healthy.
Liam finally returns minutes later, eyes wild. He says nothing and locks the door.
“Did you see who it—?”
He shakes his head. “No, whoever it was, is gone.”
I swallow hard. “Who do you think—?”
He cuts me off. “I don’t know. He wouldn’t be breathing if I knew.”
He turns around, walking over to me, the muscles under his white T-shirt rigid. I can see the angst and his outrage underneath him, and he’s breathtaking.
My breath halts until he’s towering over me, his thumb caressing my cheek. “Don’t worry. I’ll take care of it. Is your mom coming home tonight?”
“N-no, I don’t think so, why?” I ask nervously.
“Let’s get some rest.”
Liam steps around me, checking all the doors of the house and turning off the lights. He’s in work mode, protector mode, and his presence is commanding as he glides toward the staircase. I follow him, my heartbeat echoing in my ears, still reeling from how much I wanted him.
I hesitate, trailing behind. I can’t help but notice how the dim light catches the edge of his defined jawline, the way his muscles flex beneath the fabric of his shirt with every step. He reaches the second floor and pauses, glancing back at me, and there’s a flicker of something—possessiveness? Concern? It’s strange how easily I follow him as if he’s always been the one to guide me through this house,my house. There’s no point in asking him how he knows where the bedrooms are, as he pushes open the door to mine.
He steps inside, surveying the room with an intensity that makes me feel both safe and exposed.
Thank God I hid my stuffed unicorn.Six years apart is not that much, but some things are unforgivable.
I pause in the doorway, my heart racing as I observe him standing tall and impressive, thinking to myself that no one should look this edible.
