Page 146 of Tell Me It’s Right

This is a bad idea.

We should stop.

We should be talking.

I say none of these things as I push him onto his back and climb onto his lap in the back seat. He grips my hips and stares up at me with parted lips, his chest rapidly rising and falling with his breath. I bring my lips to his before he can say it either. He groans into my mouth as I grind against him.

Nothing,nothinghas taken the edge off missing him but this. And maybe it’ll hurt more after, but I think I’m desperate enough to take that risk.

“God, I’ve missed you,” he breathes. His fingers tangle in my hair as he deepens the kiss and takes over control. Holding my back with one arm and my head with the other, he flips us so I’m on the seats and he’s crouched over me in the small space. I keepmy legs wrapped around his waist as his mouth finds my neck, my jaw, my collarbones.

“Do you have any idea what you do to me?” he asks in a voice so rough and low that I feel it down to every cell in my body.

Liam Brooks kisses me like he was made for it. Like it’s the one thing he knows how to do and he’s spent his entire life perfecting it. He’s an expert in exactly how to touch me, exactly what to say to make me burn, exactly how to make the rest of the world turn off.

“Gracie, I need you to tell me if you want me to?—”

“Don’t stop,” I pant, my hands shaking as I unfasten his belt. “Please, God, don’t stop.”

His lips crash against mine before I can finish the sentence, and he shoves my skirt up to my waist. We both frantically try to pry my tights down my legs, but we keep bumping into each other in the small space. My head hits his collarbone, and his chin clips the top of my shoulder. My knee knocks beneath his ribs, and his other hand gets caught in my hair as he tries to balance himself against the seat.

I let out a laugh as he finally manages to get the tights off, and by the time he positions himself over me, we’re both completely out of breath.

He slides his hands from my hips to my ribs beneath my dress, and I hiss.

“God, your hands are cold.”

“Sorry. Sorry.” He readjusts on the seat, then glances around the truck, a muscle in his jaw flexing. “I don’t know if this…”

“Don’t say it.”

“Hold on.” He wedges his arm around the front passenger seat and hits the control for the seat to move forward as far as it can. He lowers to his knees in the cramped space, grabs my hips, and pulls me to the end of the seat.

I sigh and let my head fall back against the seat…but his touch doesn’t come.

I prop myself on my elbows to see him breathing into his cupped hands. “What are you doing?”

“Making sure my hands aren’t cold!”

My laugh starts small—just a breathy giggle, but it builds uncontrollably, and then Liam is laughing too, and God, his laugh is so fucking contagious. I’ve missed it. I’ve missed it so goddamn much.

Even after moving the seat, the angles are all wrong for what he’s trying to do, so he leans over me again, his lips brushing mine as he murmurs, “Get on your hands and knees for me.”

I don’t know what it says about my current desperation that I do it without hesitation. And Liam sure as hell doesn’t hesitate before pushing my skirt up, grabbing my legs with both hands to spread my thighs wider, and then his tongue?—

“Oh my God,” I moan.

He devours me like a man starved, and I dig my fingernails into the seat just trying to hold on.

“As much as I love hearing you,” he breathes against the back of my thigh as he works a finger inside of me, then a second. “I need you to be quiet for me this time.”

I blink, almost having forgotten where we were. A wave of ice rushes over me at the thought of anyone in my family…

“I’m keeping an eye out. You’re okay.” He dives back in, but not before murmuring, “As if I’d ever let anyone but me see you like this.”

I let out a hiss through my teeth to keep from moaning as his tongue works agonizingly slow and firm circles against my clit while his fingers curl inside me. It’s going to become blatantly clear how embarrassingly desperate I’ve been for this in about thirty seconds if he keeps it up.

But sensing it—because of course he does—he backs off, then I feel his touch leave me completely. I look at him over my shoulder as he rifles through his pants pockets, then the truck center console. If he can’t find a condom, I think I’m far gone enough at this point to say fuck it. But then he locates his wallet, and the crinkle of foil tearing fills the quiet.

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