Page 52 of Landing Liam

The desperation in her tone sends a thrill through me. I grin against her, letting the warmth of her wetness soak into my lips as I shift to give her exactly what she’s asking for. My tongue circles her swollen clit, slowly, deliberately, before I pull it into my mouth and suck gently. Her thighs tense against my shoulders, her hips lifting to meet me, as though her body can’t help but chase the release I’m offering.

Her taste is intoxicating—sweet, salty, earthy. It lingers on my tongue as I press harder, my hands gripping her thighs to steady her as she writhes. Her moans grow louder, raw and unrestrained, the sound vibrating through the room and driving me to go further. I flick my tongue again and again over that sensitive spot, each pass making her shudder.

Her body tightens, her thighs clamping against my shoulders like she’s trying to trap me there. I feel the exact moment she tips over the edge—the way her back arches, the soft gasp that leaves her throat, the tremor that ripples through her entire body. I keep my mouth on her, drawing out her climax, as she moans and gasps, her hands clutching at the blanket beneath her.

When I finally lift my head, my chin damp and glistening, her chest is heaving as she rises up onto her elbows. Her hair falls in wild waves around her flushed face, and her eyes glint with mischief and something I can’t quite place. She looks so alive, so radiant, that I can’t stop the grin that spreads across my face.

And then she laughs, the sound light and breathless. “Can we do that again?”

I chuckle, wiping my chin with the back of my hand, before crawling up her body and settling my weight against her. The heat of her skin radiates against mine, her scent filling the space between us—a mix of her arousal and the faint floral hint of her shampoo.

“You liked that?” I ask.

She shakes her head slowly, her lips quirking into a teasing smirk. “No,” she says, dragging out the word. I arch a brow, waiting, but she leans in, her lips brushing against mine as she whispers, “I loved it.”

The kiss that follows is slow and deep, her lips soft and eager against mine. Her hands slide up my chest, fingers grazing my skin, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. I groan into her mouth, pulling her closer, and for a moment, it feels like the rest of the world has fallen away.

It’s just us. Just this. And it’s perfect.

Chapter Twenty-Three

Maggie

I’ve never experienced anything like that before. Never. No one’s ever taken the time to focus on me like Liam just did—like he wanted nothing more than to undo me, piece by trembling piece. My history with men hasn’t exactly been a grand adventure. The few relationships I’ve had, the ones who were brave—or foolish—enough to date a journalist with a one-track mind for chasing the next big story, never managed to make me feel like this. Ryan never made me feel like this. He certainly never made my legs shake or had me gasping for air like every single breath from my lungs was being stolen lick by delicious lick.

I stare at the ceiling, my chest still rising and falling with deep, unsteady breaths. My skin feels like it’s on fire, hypersensitive and buzzing with electricity. Liam might have said I was going to ruin him but the reality is that he’s ruined me. Completely. I’m not even sure if I care about my job or this story anymore. Not when every nerve ending in my body is screaming for him to do it all over again.

Am I in love? Lust? Whatever it is, it’s overwhelming and impossible to ignore. All I know is that I need him—his hands, his mouth, his everything—all over me again. And again. And again.

His kiss is slow and deliberate, like he’s savoring every second. My heart pounds as the taste of myself lingers on his lips, and the sheer intimacy of the moment makes my cheeks flush. I can’t believe this is happening. I can’t believe I’m here, with him, feeling this way.

Liam pulls back slightly, his eyes searching mine, then begins trailing kisses down the length of my body again. His lips are soft and gentle, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. But before he gets too far, I press my hand against his chest, stopping him.

“Wait,” I say.

He pauses immediately, his dark eyes locking onto mine. One of his hands drifts to my breast, cupping it gently, his thumb brushing over my sensitive skin. My breath hitches, but I hold my ground.

“What are we waiting for?” he murmurs, low and husky, filled with both curiosity and desire.

I swallow hard, the words caught in my throat before I manage to let them out. “You saw mine… Now I want to see yours.”

For a moment, he freezes, then his lips curl into a slow, wicked grin. His eyes flash with a mix of amusement and excitement, the golden glow from the fireplace reflecting in them. “Well, Maggie Cooper,” he teases, his voice dripping with charm, “all you had to do was ask.”

He sits up, his movements unhurried, as if he’s enjoying drawing out the anticipation. His hands move to the waistband of his jeans, and I suddenly find it hard to breathe as I watch him. My pulse races, and I feel a surge of both nervousness and overwhelming curiosity. Liam Thompson is an enigma—and I’m about to uncover more than just his secrets.

I can feel my cheeks burning as Liam unzips his jeans, his movements deliberately slow, teasing. He shimmies them down his hips, and my breath catches, anticipation coursing through me like an electric current. But when I realize his boxer-briefs are staying put, a surge of disappointment rushes over me.

“Patience,” he murmurs, smooth as velvet, catching the smirk tugging at the corners of his lips.

I rise up on my elbows, unwilling to look away. “I’m a very patient person,” I argue, though the words come out a little breathier than I intend.

He steps off the bed, letting his jeans fall to the floor with a careless flick of his foot. The glow of the fire behind him turns his toned body into something almost otherworldly, every curve of his muscles painted in gold. When his boxer-briefs finally slide down, revealing all of him, I’m momentarily stunned.

My mouth falls open as my eyes fixate on him. He’s… massive. Beautiful. Mesmerizing. I’ve never seen anything like him, and I’m pretty sure I’ll never forget this moment.

Without a second thought, I slide off the bed, rising to stand before him. His height dwarfs mine, and I have to stand on my tiptoes to capture his mouth in a heated kiss. My hand wraps around the base of him, stroking slowly, reverently, as if I’m trying to convince myself he’s real.

“You,” I murmur between kisses, “are,” another kiss, “a masterpiece.”