Page 90 of Stolen Rebel

He nods once. “I’m trying.”

“I know.”

Something shifts between us. It’s not explosive, or frantic, but I can’t stand to be this close to him and not touch him anymore. I slide forward in the chair, and he rises with me, pulling me to my feet.

The firelight paints his face in gold and shadow. The room feels warm. He feels warmer, safer. He kisses me slowly like he’s asking for my permission.

I answer, sliding my hands into his hair. His palms settle at my waist, steady and grounding. When he backs me toward the rug in front of the fire, I go willingly.

Chapter 40

ROWAN

Liam lowers us to the rug, his expression hesitant, like he’s afraid I might change my mind. Not a chance. We’ve been apart for too long as it is, and the quickie in the bedroom last night, while good, didn’t sate this raging appetite that’s been building inside me since he walked into the pub that day. Once my fear subsided, the need, the longing for him came roaring back.

He is, and always has been, The One.

The fire crackles behind him, turning the hard lines of his body molten. His hands frame my face, thumbs brushing along my cheekbones like he’s committing me to memory, or maybe reigniting all the old ones.

“This,” he murmurs, forehead resting against mine, “is not me trying to control you.”

“I know.”

His breath ghosts over my lips. Slow and measured. I close the distance. The kiss feels different, like we have all the time in the world. Outside this room, there are ghosts, grief, revenge, and more questions than we can count.

But in here, surrounded by the smell of worn leather, it’s just us.

My fingers curl into the front of his shirt, tugging him closer. “You don’t get to protect me by shutting me out,” I whisper against his mouth.

“I won’t.”

He eases me back onto the rug, arms braced on either side, his weight held carefully in check, giving me space to pull away if I want.

I slide my hands beneath his shirt, fingers meeting warm skin, solid muscle, then the steady thud of his heart is beneath my palm.

My throat tightens. I could have had this, had him for the last five years. We could have been together this whole fucking time if it weren’t for Brian ripping us from each other.

My chest threatens to cave in on itself. My lip quivers, hot tears prickling.

“Rebel?” It’s one word, drenched in concern.

I shake my head, freeing the tears down my cheeks. “We’ve missed so much, Liam.” I cup his jaw with my hand, stroking the jagged scar down his face. “We’ve lost so much time.”

He nods, his forehead pressing against mine. “We’re not losing a single moment longer. Hating you was exhausting, now I just want to—” He watches me for any reaction about where his sentence was about to go.

My brows shoot up, heart racing. He was going to say love, right? He just wants to love me?

Somehow that makes the tears fall heavier, faster. “Liam.”

He kisses my forehead, then each of my damp cheeks. “I didn’t really hate you, mo rún. I tried.” His lips twitch. “But the love I had for you never went away. It just got buried beneath so much anger.”

I stare at him as I process his words. “I didn’t want to leave.” The words clog my throat as five years of heartbreak and agony bubble up from deep inside my body. “I never wanted to leave you.” My voice breaks, my shoulders shaking on a half-sob. “And I never stopped loving you either. I gave my heart to you years ago. And I never got it back.”

He doesn’t hesitate. The kiss that follows is deeper. Hungrier, but still careful and intentional. Two souls who already know each other on a cellular level reconnecting.

I roll us, turning him onto his back until I’m straddling him. The firelight dances over his face. His hands settle on my hips, firm but not controlling, a quiet acknowledgment that whatever happens in this moment is whatever I want it to be, whatever I choose.

“Still not scared, Rebel?” It almost sounds like there’s hope in his voice.