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His hands itched to feel just a strand of the silky swells, but he knew if he gave into that one desire, he’d give into an even greater desire he had—the desire to kiss her perfect lips that now called up to him, beckoning him closer.

How he wished to answer them.

* * *

Claire fought to keep her eyes from opening, but as Liam’s silence continued, she shifted, unsettled. Why wasn’t he saying anything? Had he somehow left without her hearing a sound?

Slowly, she peered up through her lashes. A jolt of energy shot through her stomach when she found Liam kneeling beside her, his face directly above hers as he stared down at her.

When had he moved so close to her? And why was he watching her so intently? “What’s wrong? Did I get scratched?” she asked, the fire’s light casting dark shadows across his features.

“No,” he said, his deep voice sinking into her soul. “You’re…you’re perfect.”

Her heart leapt at his words, her cheeks aflame as she fought the sudden urge to hide again. She was still ripe with humiliation after being body-slammed by a pine tree. Add Liam’s compliment, and her blush was done for.

Time stood still as he looked down at her, his eyes slightly narrowed, as if deep in thought. She wanted to ask him what he was thinking, but her breath caught in her throat as he leaned closer to her. His knee rested against her hip as he slowly moved his left hand to the other side of her.

He was only doing so for balance—or so she tried to tell herself. But as his gaze washed over her, she could see the desire in his eyes, desire that matched her own.

He hovered directly above her, like a lion standing over his prey. Only, Liam wasn’t a lion. His raised shoulders were powerful, his stance protective, but the softness in his eyes as they caressed her features made her feel less like prey and more like a treasure—a treasure to be cared for, watched over.

A treasure to be loved.

She drew in a deep breath. Love? He didn’t love her, nor did she love him. That would be impossible after only a few days together.

And yet, she couldn’t deny the pull she felt to the man above her. She wanted him to kiss her. She wanted to feel his lips, to breathe in the scent of his cologne more fully. She knew it was stupid. Foolish. Idiotic. Insane.

But what did it matter if she could have her desire met this minute?

His eyes dropped to her lips, and he leaned toward her, her heart rapping against her ribcage with anticipation. His perfect face drew closer and closer until her eyes closed, and she drew in a final breath before his kiss would be hers.

TWENTY-THREE

The front door tore open, and Melody’s shouts echoed down the hallway. “Claire? Claire!”

Liam jumped up in a heartbeat, heading for the kitchen as Claire scrambled to her feet, turning toward the tree and pretending to straighten the branches.

“In here,” she responded, her voice sounding far too strangled. She couldn’t help it. Her lungs still struggled for a solid breath.

“Oh, good!” Melody cried out. “I’m so glad you guys are home. I am in serious need of your help, Claire.”

With her head still spinning, Claire drew a deep breath. She’d almost kissed Liam. Liam, of all people. And he had almost kissed her.

What had either of them been thinking? Or was that the problem—that they hadn’t been thinking at all?

“I just can’t decide what dress…” Melody stopped, coming around the corner.

For a split second, Claire wondered if Melody had read the room, somehow sensing the chemistry between Claire and Liam that had scattered to pieces and now floated fractured in the air around them. But as Melody’s eyes focused on the tree instead of Claire or Liam, relief flooded through her body.

“Aw, did you guys get that for Aunt Tasha?” Melody asked. “She’s going to love it.”

Claire glanced to Liam, who ducked his head in the fridge. There was no way he was hungry. Was he hiding his face, or was he trying to cool down?

“We just finished putting it up,” Claire said, folding her arms to keep her limbs from shaking. All that adrenaline that had built up to kiss Liam was now leaving her arms as weak and flimsy as a daffodil’s stem during a spring snowstorm.

“Perfect,” Melody said. “Because like I said, I need your help deciding what to wear. And…” She paused, raising her lips in a sign of hardly veiled disgust. “You’re taking a shower, right? You look kinda sweaty and red.”

Claire’s blush screamed, and Liam shifted to stare into the freezer next. “Yeah, of course I am,” she said, leaving the tree behind and walking toward Melody. It was time to get the heck out of here.