“Can I chat with you about the yachts coming in next week? Shouldn’t take long.” Liam’s tone leaves no room for refusal, and his eyes find mine with an unreadable tension. Joe looks at me, apologies in his eyes, and kisses my forehead.
“I didn’t want to stop,” he whispers in my ear, and I lock eyes with him, relishing in everything we’ve both fought to keep silent.
“Neither did I,” I say, trying to smile.
Reluctantly, he turns toward Liam, and I wait in his bedroom for all the things I dare to wish for to come true.
A little after thirty minutes, Joe reappears while I kept myself busy reading one of his stoic books.
“What’s happening?” I laugh, my arms wrapping around his neck when he leans in and immediately scoops me up and throws me onto the couch in the living room.
He points to the remote.
“Pick a movie and I’ll make popcorn.” He walks away shirtless into the kitchen.
Fuck, he’s so hot.
I can smell the popcorn burning before I hear Joe curse quietly, and I’m burning as hot as the popcorn.
He yanks open the steamy bag and lets out a yelp as if it’s an animal that’s bitten him, and I can’t help but bubble with endearment at the sight. The rest of the house is so silent, I sit there with my knees drawn up and I keep replaying the way hekissed me, the way his hands explored. When he comes back with the bowl, he sets it in my lap and settles in beside me as he wraps his arm around my shoulder and pulls me closer.
I try to focus on the opening credits of Mission Impossible, but every so often he glances at me, and it’s like a line of fire lighting up along my skin. His hand lowers tight around my waist, shifting me to lie against him and his face nuzzles into my neck. I adore the simplicity of these moments with him and feeling him close. His body relaxes, his breath slows down and the pure feeling of his heartbeat against my back is meditative, until my eyes flutter closed. And I thank God for ever putting this beautiful man in my path.
When I come to, Joe is sleeping next to me, his arm around my waist and his other hand peacefully laid on his cheek.
I get up quietly, careful not to wake him, and creep into the kitchen to get some water.
A fright takes over me as I approach and realize that Liam is standing at the counter with his back to me, scrolling on his phone. His large shoulders and tall body send goosebumps, but not the kind I want to feel.
The fridge light bleeds across his shoulder, turning the ink on his skin the color of brushed ashes. I know he felt me coming, he’s practically a military predator. The guy could sense a fly on the wall buzzing in another room, but he doesn’t look up. Not even when I open the cabinet and say nothing as I fill a glass from the tap.
Trying to seem undaunted, I realize he’s watching me in the reflective surface of the oven. I gently bring the glass to my lips and take a few sips, carefully swallowing while on edge from his mere presence, my heartbeat throbbing in my neck. I know he doesn’t like me, but it’s hard to know why. Although one thing is reassuringly obvious; I think Liam doesn’t like many people.
“You’re up late,” I say, breaking the firestorm. I doubt he’s even as on edge as I am.Emotionless vampire.
“Couldn’t sleep.” His voice is flat and not friendly, “didn’t want to wake Joe.”
“You didn’t.”
He turns around and stares at me for a long time, then jerks his chin toward the living room.
“Are you two done for the night?” And I can definitely sense some displaced judgment there.
I feel the heat rise again, but this time it’s prickly and defensive, and a slow, predatory smile spreads across his face.
Reservation dissolving, I can’t help asking the one question that’s been burning the tip of my tongue.
“What’s your problem?” I set the glass down harder than I need to, water splashing onto the counter. Damn it.
Liam puts down his phone. Letting out a breath, as if he’s deciding not to say something cruel, but that quickly disappears when his face slowly looks up at me with a smirk that tells me he’s been waiting for this question.
“My problem? What’s my problem, sweetheart?” He enunciates every syllable, walking over to me with a dreadful grace, and my body tenses uncontrollably.
I can’t deny the guy scares me. His relationship to my angel sleeping on the couch over there is beyond my understanding.
“He’s too good for you,” he says into my ear between his teeth. “He’s too good for anyone—like you.”
Well, I sure as shit didn’t expect that. I bark out an astonished laugh because this asshole is unreal.
