“You’re doing that thing again when you think too much.” He nods in my direction with a knowing smirk.
“What do I do?” I ask, my hand caressing his cheek. The gesture is so simple, yet the mere permission to touch him is like a drug.
“Your eyes stare like they're looking into an empty field.” His fingers tighten around my thigh, the pressure both grounding and possessive.
“I'm just staring at you,” I admit softly. “Nothing empty about it.”
The corner of his mouth quirks up slightly, but concern still lingers in his eyes.
“Sometimes when I'm nervous, I create these little boxes in my mind.” I explain, letting my head fall back on the seat, watching how the streetlights cast shadows across the sharp planes of his face as we drive. “Mental compartments where I can file away different thoughts. One box for things that scare me, one for things I need to process, one for things I don’t want to think about too much…” I trail off moving my hand in the air, not wanting to say what the largest box contains, that seems to overflow no matter how many times I try to organize it. “It helps me focus, keeps me from drowning in everything all at once.”
For a moment, I forget about poker chips and earbuds and the danger waiting for us. There's only Liam, the road, and the electricity between us. Without warning, he swerves to the side of the road, pulling the Jeep onto the shoulder with a controlled urgency as he shifts into park.
“What are you—” But before I can finish, Liam reaches over pulls his seat back and unbuckles my seatbelt.
“Come here,” he grinds out, lifting me effortlessly onto his lap. I let out a surprised gasp as I straddle him, the fabric of my dress sliding up my thighs.
Liam's hands travel from my waist to my hips, fingers digging into the bare skin exposed. His eyes dark with desire, locked onto mine.
“What box am I in?” he asks, his voice rough as his hands move up to lace through my hair, cradling my head with surprising tenderness despite the intensity in his gaze. “In that mind of yours—where do you put me?”
My breath catches. The question holds more weight than he realizes. Or maybe he knows exactly what he's asking.
“The… the Liam box,” I whisper, not trusting myself to elaborate further on his box in my mind, consuming all the others with every heartbeat. His hands tighten in my hair, tilting my face toward his.
“Not good enough,” he murmurs, his breath hot against my lips, “tell me what's in the box.”
I stare into him, incapable of saying the words I desperately want to allow myself to feel but can’t just yet. Seeing my emotions, he gives me lenience, and his mouth finds mine, gently brushing his upper lip to mine. He takes his time as if he's trying to uncover every secret I've kept locked away. His tongue slides against mine, claiming, and I melt against him, my body responding with a deep need to get close to him, to dig myselfinside his soul. My fingers clutch at his shoulders, digging into the hard muscle beneath his shirt as I press myself closer.
When he finally breaks the kiss, his forehead rests against mine, his blue eyes blazing with an intensity that makes my heart stutter.
“Come back to me.” His voice breaks slightly, vulnerability etched in the lines of his face.
I blink, surprised by the rawness in his voice. “Liam, I—”
“No.” His hands frame my face, thumbs brushing my cheeks with surprising gentleness. “I'm not asking. You will come back to me tonight. I won't—I can't sleep without you beside me. Not anymore.”
The confession hangs between us, heavy and real. This isn't just about tonight, this is Liam Laurent, the man who keeps everyone at arm's length, admitting he needs me.
“I’ll always come back to you,” I say, hoping he feels all the words I mean to say with my kiss to his lips, his jaw, his forehead. “There’s no way you can get rid of me now.” I smile, tears pooling at my eyes, before I know they’re falling.
“Please don’t cry, baby. I hate to see you cry.” His expression softens as his thumb gently sweeps across my cheek, catching the tears that continue to fall. I watch, breathless, as he brings his thumb to his lips, tasting my tears.
“These are happy tears,” I whisper, my voice catching. “They're the best kind. I hope they taste sweet.”
The corner of his mouth quirks up, and leans forward, his lips brushing the wetness from beneath my eye. “I'll taste all of your happy tears. Every single one you ever shed. I want them all.” And a shiver runs through me.
"We should go,” I say reluctantly, though my body remains firmly pressed against his, enveloping my arms around his neck one more time, letting my breathing soothe by his even breath, I reach my hand under his shirt and lay my hand over his heart,listening to his heartbeat, memorizing the sound and a sinking feeling hit me, petrified of what I feel for him.
I am in love with Liam Laurent.
I look up at him, his eyes instantly finding mine, and they tell me what rip behinds them— he is in love with me too.
“We’re here,” he says and unlocks the jeep.
I focused so much on staring at Liam during the drive that I wasn’t aware we had parked between the snaky narrow streets in the old village. The signature pastel yellow and orange old stone buildings were grabbing at my soul. This was the heart of my village. The top of the Clocher, the bell tower, was right above me, my compass, I’d always know where I was at the sight of it, and I knew a couple of streets down was the front of the port where the lighthouse stood.
I didn’t predict our location to be in such an important part of my town, where not too far our Saint, Torpes, lay to rest beneath our church. A Christian martyr they beheaded for his faith, where the village is said to have gathered him from the sea and gave him sanctuary.
