Page 35 of Baby For My Ex's Brother

"Morning," he finally echoes, his voice low and rough with sleep or maybe something else.

We're in limbo, quiet before the storm of reality comes crashing down. For a moment, I let myself get lost in it, the sheer insanity of wanting someone who could ruin me with a word. But then the bees in my stomach start humming again, a reminder of everything that's at stake.

I swallow hard, bracing myself for whatever comes next.

"What happens now?" The question is a whisper, but it feels like it echoes off the walls of the motel room. My heart races, each beat a hammer against my chest, as I wait for him to spell out my fate.

But Liam doesn't say anything. Instead, he pushes me back against the sheets, his body hovering over mine with a sense of purpose that sends another wave of those frantic bees through my stomach. His lips find mine, and the world narrows downto the taste of his kiss—intense, demanding, yet somehow reassuring in its fervor.

I can't think, can't worry about jobs or homelessness or the looming shadow of Chris's potential wrath. Liam's hand finds its way to my breast, his touch igniting a moan that vibrates between us. It's a sound that seals my betrayal and solidifies my desire all at once.

His hardness presses insistently against my entrance, an undeniable reminder of the night before. A night where pleasure and passion eclipsed everything else. Without hesitation, I open my legs for him, welcoming the weight of him, the heat of him, the sheer, undeniable reality of him.

"Shiloh," he breathes against my neck as he positions himself, and I feel my name on his lips like a secret vow we're both afraid to keep. “So fucking wet for me… good girl.”

My response is a gasp, sharp and needy, as he pushes inside me. I arch my back, offering him everything, while he props himself up on his elbows above me to get better leverage. His fingers tangle in my hair and pull hard, a sweet sting that spirals into pleasure as I close my eyes and give in to the sensation.

Liam sets a punishing rhythm, his movements quick and dirty, a relentless pursuit of release in the soft light of dawn. He smells like sex—like Liam—and it's intoxicating, overwhelming. It's the scent I've found myself craving since the day I started working for him, a forbidden aroma that promises both peril and ecstasy.

"More," I whisper, not recognizing my own voice.

It's hoarser, filled with a raw desire that only he has ever drawn out of me. Liam responds, his pace unyielding, driving me to the brink of something wild and reckless.

I can't help but move against him, matching him thrust for thrust, lost in the carnal dance that we perform with a desperation that belies the quiet breaking of the day outside our motel room.

"God, Shiloh," he grunts, and there's a hint of wonder in his voice, a trace of something that might be awe—or maybe it's just lust. But right now, I don't care what it is. All that matters is the way he makes me feel: wanted, needed, consumed.

I cling to him, nails digging into the hard muscles of his back, urging him on. Each movement sends me spiraling closer to the edge, to that precipice of pleasure where I know I'll tumble down into oblivion.

And as the morning light creeps further into the room, casting us in its golden hue, I can't help but wonder if this is what falling in love feels like—terrifying and exhilarating all at once.

I thought I loved Chris, sure. But it was never, ever like this.

Liam is relentless, a force of nature that I'm swept up in without any hope—or desire—to resist. His movements become faster, harder, each thrust pushing me further into the mattress, claiming me as his own.

It borders on pain, the intensity of him filling me so completely, but it's the kind of ache I crave, the kind that tells me I'm alive and burning with the same ferocity that ignites within him.

"Come for me, sweetheart," he groans, a sound that vibrates through my bones, setting every nerve ending ablaze. “I want to feel you come on my cock.”

I can sense he's close, and the thought of him reaching that peak inside me sends a shockwave of anticipation through my body. I want to do as he says, I want to obey him. I race toward my own end, my pussy clenching, spasming—

Then he's there, his rhythm stutters, and I feel the hot rush of him flooding me, a heat that seeps into my very core. In this moment, I belong entirely to him, and he to me, even if the world outside these walls would condemn us for it.

Liam collapses onto me for a brief second before pushing himself up to look at me. His eyes are dark with satisfaction,and something softer, something that threatens to unravel me completely.

He lowers his face to mine, his breath mingling with my own, and then his lips are on me, not just kissing but claiming, marking me as his with an urgency that leaves no room for doubt.

His tongue slips between my lips, mimicking the earlier rhythm of our bodies, a final act of possession that has me clinging to him once more. He fucks his tongue into my mouth, thrusting, deep.

There's no gentleness, only the raw need that we've awakened in each other—a need that speaks of more nights like this, more mornings waking up entwined, and the dangerous possibility of wanting more than just the physical connection that binds us.

Then when he pulls away, it’s like it never happened.

Liam pulls out and gets out of bed with a purpose that feels like a slap. He doesn't look back at me as he fishes his phone from the pocket of his slacks slung over a chair.

"We've got to move," he says curtly, scanning the screen. "The mechanic texted. The car will be ready in an hour."

I'm lying there, tangled in sheets that smell like us, trying to catch my breath. My mind races, heart pounding not just from the sex but from the sheer panic at what comes next. I watch his broad shoulders, the muscles shifting as he types a reply.

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