Page 31 of Destructive Truths

“There’s no weird—”

“Don’t even go there. I’m not blind, and you’re not stupid.”

Before I can protest, Liam is next to us, shooting me a killer smile that highlights his delicious dimple. My stomach somersaults when he reaches forward to brush the fallen hair strands from my face. “Hey, you.”

Beibhinn takes her opportunity and nudges me forward. The swift movement causes me to trip right into her brother’s arms, making her cackle.

Without missing a beat, Liam steadies me by drawing his arm around my waist until my body moulds against his chest. “Falling for me already, Free Bird?” His lips press against my forehead, and a blush heats my cheeks.

The slamming of metal ricochets through the hallway, cutting off my ability to form a sentence. All eyes fall on Rohan, who is shaking out his fist as he glares in our direction.

Beibhinn presses her hand to her mouth, stifling her laughter. “See, worked like a fucking charm.”

Rohan’s darkened eyes are murderous, but I can’t find the sympathy to care. He’s the one who blew me off, not sparing a single fucking thought after everything that transpired over the weekend. And with the comment he made this morning, it’s evident Aodhán filled him in on what happened after he disappeared. He doesn’t give a flying shite about me. He never did. The sooner that sinks in, the better off we will all be.

Pulling my eyes away from Rohan, I peer up at the guy next to me. Liam is everything Rohan isn’t, and if I decide to see where things go between us, Rohan only has himself to blame.

“Do I want to know what that’s about?” Liam pulls me closer, tucking me beneath his arm as we stride past Rohan and Hannah towards the main entrance.

I toss one last look over my shoulder, and my eyes connect with Rí’s. My arm circles Liam’s waist, and I lean further into his solid frame. “It’s nothing.” Just an arsehole getting served a large dose of his own medicine.

NINETEEN

LIAM

Bent at the waist, Saoirse stands in the centre of the octagon with her palms resting on her knees. With every heaved breath, her chest rises and falls. Fuck me. I can’t tear my eyes away from the swell of her breasts peeking over the lip of her sports bra.

Beads of sweat kiss her skin, glistening against her exposed torso, and it takes everything I have to contain the groan lodged at the base of my throat.

We’ve been at the gym for hours, and with Beibhinn working the front desk, I’m tasked with training Saoirse for her fight against Hannah in a week. Not that I’m complaining. Hot and sweaty is precisely how I want Saoirse to be when she’s with me—preferably with fewer fuckin’ clothes on.

For the past hour, I’ve fought against the visions invading my mind—of me tearing those tiny black gym shorts that taunt me from her body. Unaware of how much she’s affecting me, Saoirse stands to her full height and lifts her arms above her head, stretching her muscles. Her long, dark tresses fall over her shoulders in two matching braids, the tips brushing against her peaked nipples. The sight of her standing there, breathless and flushed, has my dick twitching in my shorts. Then, when I think the visual couldn’t get any sweeter, she reaches for her water bottle and draws it to her lips. Her head tips back as she pops open the cap with her teeth, and I stand there, mesmerised, following the slender curve of her neck as she gulps back her water like someone trapped her in the desert and she’s about to die of thirst.

Christ! What I wouldn’t give to be that water bottle. Thankfully, my hands are already sitting beneath the band of my shorts, so it’s not apparent when I need to readjust myself before poking her fucking eye out.

Before I can do something reckless, like take her right here in the middle of the mat, prying eyes be damned, my sister peeks past the reception door, announcing that the gym is closing for the night.

People around us wrap up their reps and begin packing up their stuff, and before long, it’s just the two of us in the ring. Saoirse remains rooted to the mat. “Do we have to head out, too?” she questions, her voice breathless and panting.. “I’ve only a week to learn a lifetime of shit. I’m running out of time, Liam.”

She’s right. Seven days is not nearly long enough to prepare her for the first initiation trial. And even though she’s determined and focused, it’s a lot to take in a small amount of time.

Closing the space between us, I halt mere inches from her face. Her chin tips back as she peers up at me over her lashes.

“Don’t worry, darlin’. You’re doing great.” My fingers itch to touch her, to drag her close and kiss the uncertainty from her lips. “We’ve got the rest of the week to review everything we did today. You’ll get the hang of it.”

Lost in the moment, we stand unmoving, eyes locked together. Warmth spreads across my chest, my heart hammering against my rib cage. Scarlett-coloured heat warms Saoirse’s cheeks as her eyes drop to the canvas before drifting upwards, surveying my bare, tattooed chest. Beneath her gaze, my skin pricks with molten desire. I want her. Right the fuck now.

I inch closer, leaving only millimetres between us. Our breaths intertwine.

Suddenly, Saoirse’s palm lands against my chest, but she doesn’t push me away. Instead, she glides her hand down my rib cage, fingertips dancing delicately over my tattoos.

Her eyes never leave mine, intensifying the moment.

“Saoirse.” Her name falls past my lips in a low, gruff warning. “Don’t play with fire.”

“What if I need to get lost in the flames?”

Desire burns a hot spot in the pit of my stomach, and then her lips quirk into a sultry grin, making every ounce of my resolve go out the fucking window.

---