Page 46 of Baby For My Ex's Brother

My breath hitches as his hands find my hips, gripping firmly. With a deft motion, I entwine my legs around him, my skirt riding up to my waist. His fingers dig into my flesh, possessive and unyielding, and for a moment, we're suspended in breathless anticipation.

Then, he's inside me, my pussy clenching around him.

We both gasp as he fills me completely, stretching me in the most delicious way. My head falls back, hitting the bookshelf with a dull thud that I barely register over the roar of blood in my ears.

One of my heels slips off, clattering onto the floor, but the loss of balance only draws me closer to him, our bodies melding together in a frenzied rhythm.

"God, Shiloh," he groans, his thrusts deepening, each one lifting me higher against the wall. The books rattle ominously behind me, threatening to fall, but all I can focus on is the feeling of him moving within me.

"Liam..." I cry out, my voice a broken whisper of pleasure and desperation. My fingers claw at his shoulders, seeking purchase, needing something to hold onto as he drives me toward oblivion.

His breath is hot against my ear, his voice a low rumble that vibrates through my entire body.

"You're fucking perfect, Shiloh," he confesses, the raw edge in his tone sending shivers down my spine despite my earlier resolve to avoid such clichés. "I've wanted you since I first laid eyes on you."

My heart hammers in my chest as his words wash over me, a filthy litany that stokes the fire within me. His hand slides up my back, pulling me impossibly closer.

"Remember Thanksgiving?" he growls, and I can feel his smile against my skin. "When Chris introduced us? I would’ve taken you right there on the dining room table, family be damned." His other hand roams freely, tracing fire along my thigh.

The mention of Chris—Liam's brother and my ex—should bring a reality check, but the actuality only adds kindling to the flame. It’s wrong, so wrong, but God, this feels right.

"You've been in every dirty thought since then," he admits with a gruff intensity. "Every damn fantasy. And now that I've had you..." He pauses, his grip tightening. "I can't stop. I won’t."

The confession sends me spiraling, and I clench around him, my orgasm ripping through me like a storm. "Liam!" I scream, giving in to his command, uncaring of who might hear, lost in the moment.

He follows soon after, his body tensing, his groan guttural and filled with release. "That's it, Shiloh... let them hear. Let them know who you belong to."

Our heavy breathing fills the room, the only sound aside from the distant hum of the city below. I don't care about the mess, the scandal, or the rules we’re breaking. Right now, in this slice of stolen time, it's just Liam and me, and the undeniable truth of our tangled desires.

And I’m coming, coming…

Liam's lips crash against mine, raw and demanding as if trying to brand me with his kiss. I respond with equal fervor, my hands clinging to his broad shoulders, not ready to let go.

The world beyond the walls of his office fades into insignificance; there is only his taste, his touch, his heat enveloping me. My orgasm finally recedes as liquid heat fills my pussy… but I still don’t want him to pull out.

After a moment that stretches into an eternity, he pulls back, eyes dark with lingering desire as he gently sets me down on the floor. My legs feel like they might give way, but his firm hold steadies me. He zips his pants up with swift precision, the sound jarring in the aftermath of our passion.

What’s even more jarring is what he says next.

"Go home, Shiloh," Liam says, voice surprisingly steady. He's all business now, the mask of the untouchable billionaire firmly back in place. "Get some sleep. I'll take care of the rest of the copies."

There's a finality in his tone that catches me off guard. No words of what just happened between us, no whispered promises or even hints of regret. Just a simple directive that sends a clear message: this is where our liaison ends, at least for tonight.

"Wait," I find my voice, even as it trembles with the rush of emotions threatening to spill over. "What are we doing, Liam?" My eyes search his, looking for something—anything—that might tell me this wasn't just another meaningless encounter to him.

He studies me for a heartbeat, his expression unreadable.

"I'm still figuring that out," he finally admits, and there's a trace of conflict in his deep voice. It's not much, but it's enough to slice through me, leaving me feeling exposed and foolish.

The urge to argue bubbles up, to demand answers or some semblance of certainty in the chaos we've created. But as I stand there, my discarded panties clutched in his hand, the fight drains out of me.

Maybe it's the vulnerability reflected in his eyes, or maybe it's the realization that I'm not sure I want to know his true thoughts.

I swallow hard, the lump in my throat making it impossible to speak. Without another word, I turn away from him—fromus—and step towards the door.

Tears blur my vision as I reach the door, my hand trembling as I pull it open. I don't look back at him; I can't. The office feels colder now, emptier somehow as if the heat we generated has been sucked out into the night.

The soft sound of my crying is the only noise in the otherwise silent corridor. I press a hand to my mouth to stifle the sobs, willing myself to hold it together until I'm safely hidden away in the privacy of my car, where no one can see me break down.

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