Page 81 of Death Kiss

His lips meet mine, feasting on the remnant of champagne that clings, his hot tongue sliding over my own. ‘Who needs glasses anyway?’

Liam grabs his coat from the pile of boxes and spreads it on the floor. We sit together, alternating swigs of the bubbles until I’m feeling a little tipsy. Reggie’s found the cork and sets about batting it across the hall before commando-rolling over it and doing it again. He’s certainly become more spritely with his diet.

‘I can’t believe all this is ours,’ Liam says.

‘I know. What the fuck are we going to do with it?’

‘Other than desecrate every room with our filthy sex?’ He grins and passes me the bottle.

‘Obviously.’ I take a drink, leaning against him. ‘Our furniture isn’t even going to fill a room.’

‘There’s no rush. We have a whole lifetime to decorate it.’

When the champagne runs dry, we lay back on the coat, hand in hand and look up at the ceiling. The mural there used to fascinate me for hours.

‘I used to lie right here as a kid. It drove my mum mad. Her guests used to have to step over me to use the stairs.’

Liam squeezes my hand.

‘I used to imagine the cherubs were me and my sibling. God, I was so fucking lonely. I’d imagine I was one of those angel babies, and one day I’d meet the rest of them. Turns out I didn’t grow up soft and sweet and good.’

I sigh, remembering those long days when I’d lie here and wish my childhood away.

‘Turns out I’m so far from good it’s crazy.’

‘You’re still good,’ Liam says. ‘You’re just one of those kick-ass angels who like kill the bad guys and shit.’

I can’t help but laugh. ‘I’m not sure that’s how it goes.’

‘Can’t say I ever spent much time in the church. The only godly men I met were sent straight from the devil.’ Liam tugs me over so I’m straddling him. ‘There, to me, you fit right in amongst them. You’ll always be my angel.’

Tracing my fingers over his cheek, over the scars and angles, I smile at him. ‘I’m hardly an angel.’

‘You just have a knife instead of a harp. And you do play it ever so beautifully.’

That brings a full laugh from me.

‘What?’ Liam asks, his brow furrowing.

‘I can play the harp. A bit. I spent more time trailing through the woods hoping to bump back into a certain dark-haired boy than practising.’

His face softens as he wraps his hands around my waist. ‘You looked for me?’

‘Of course I did.’ I place my hand over his heart, feeling its steady thump against my fingers. ‘The heart knows where it belongs, and my heart has always belonged to you, Mr…’

My voice trails off.

‘What?’ he asks.

‘Liam, what the fuck is your last name?’ I can’t believe I’ve never thought to ask. I guess I assumed it would be Ellie’s after I found out about his foster situation, but in all our shared moments, I’ve never asked.

‘Technically it’s Robertson, but that was my father’s name, so I don’t use it.’

‘What do we do when we get married?’

Liam pulls my face to his, kissing me with enough heat to flush my face. ‘Whatever the fuck we like.’

THIRTY-NINE