Page 71 of Baby For My Ex's Brother

A gasp escapes her as I pull back, only to surge forward again. Her fingertips press into the glass, a delicate counterbalance to the force of my body against hers.

"Liam," she breathes out, her voice laced with a mix of wonder and caution, "What if someone sees?"

"Let them," I growl lowly, my gaze fixed on the reflection of us entwined—a powerful man undone by a woman who's slipped under his skin. "I want everyone to know you're mine."

It's reckless, maybe, but in this moment, my usual self-control is overshadowed by the primal urge to claim her, to mark her as mine before the world.

The city lies witness to our connection—distant lights casting shadows over us as we move together, silhouetted against the vastness of the night. Shiloh tightens around me, a sweet crescendo building within her, pulling me in deeper.

But even as my own peak looms near, I hold myself in check. I can't let go, not like this—not when I need to see her eyes as I cross that threshold.

When she finishes, a soft laugh hiccups from her throat—a sound that tethers me back to the present. I quickly pull out, my hands already moving with an urgent need to peel away the layers between us. Fingers fumbling, clothes shedding, our lips crash together in a kiss that speaks of pent-up longing and imminent promises.

Dragging her towards the leather sofa in the corner of my office, I'm so consumed by the proximity of her body, the heat emanating from her skin, that I misjudge the distance. My heel catches on the rug, and I stumble backward onto the cushions.

Shiloh's laughter is a melodic reprieve from the intensity of our desire, a sound that makes my heart thump erratically against my ribs.

"Careful there, Mr. Control," she teases, standing over me while her fingers work the buttons of her blouse with deliberate slowness—each tiny pearl clasp releasing a little more of her to me.

"Never been less in control," I admit, voice hoarse as I watch her undress. The sight of her, confident and beautiful, peeling away her clothes to reveal the soft curves I've come to crave—it's nearly my undoing.

She straddles me then, her gaze locked with mine. A small smile plays on her lips, but it's the depth of emotion swirling in the depths of her eyes that captures me completely.

She sinks down, enveloping me in warmth, and a groan tears from my throat. My hands grip her hips tightly, not just to steady her, but because touching her feels like the only way to anchor myself in this storm of sensation.

"Shiloh," I murmur, the words teetering on the edge of a confession. Love—that dangerous, all-consuming force—is clawing its way up my throat. It's there, so close I can taste the delicacy alongside the lingering sweetness of her kisses.

I want to say it. I want to tell her. But the weight of the word is heavy, loaded with implications and vulnerability I haven't allowed myself to feel in years.

Without warning, she starts moving, and the world narrows down to just us. She rocks her hips, grinding against me, each movement stoking the fire that's been building since themoment we touched. Her skin is hot against mine, slick with desire, and I'm lost in the sensation of her.

She reaches up, her fingers digging into my shoulders for leverage, her nails a sweet pressure point against my skin. Her eyes open, deep chestnut brown reflecting something fierce and tender, and the words tumble from her lips, unhurried but loaded with everything we are together. "I love you, Liam. I love you."

Those words hit me harder than any physical touch could. It's as if she's reached inside me and flipped a switch, igniting something primal and needy. My hands move to her back, pulling her closer, desperate to feel every inch of her against me. Our kiss is hard, a clashing of lips and teeth, tasting the truth and rawness between us.

"Shiloh," I manage between breaths, the rest of the declaration lodged in my throat like a prayer I can't quite release.

We're frantic now, our movements uncoordinated in their urgency. It's as though every thrust is a word, every gasp a sentence, and every moan a paragraph of the story we're writing together—one of need, of hope, of a future that's suddenly within reach.

And then, as the crescendo builds, I'm teetering on the edge, holding onto her like she's my lifeline. With one final push, I come undone, a silent roar in the quiet of the room. Our climax washes over us in waves, a tide too strong to resist, pulling us under and leaving us breathless and entwined on the couch that's become our sanctuary.

We go still, breath to breath, just looking at each other. I know she’s waiting for me to say it back… and I know I want to, but I can’t seem to form the words. My brain has short-circuited.

She lifts her hand and drags it through my hair, down my face.

“Liam…” she whispers.

My name has never sounded better than it does on her lips.

I can't stop staring at her, Shiloh still straddling me, her body settling as my cock softens inside her. The intimacy of this moment wraps around us like a cocoon, sheltering us from the world outside my office.

I drag my hands up her sides, feeling the smoothness of her skin under my fingertips, and watch as a shiver runs through her. My thumbs brush over her nipples, eliciting a gasp that fills the room with its sweet sound.

"Shiloh," I breathe, my voice laced with an emotion I've never allowed myself to truly feel until now.

I lean in, capturing her lips with mine once more in a kiss that's a promise, a future, a surrender. It's softer this time, a contrast to the urgency before. A testament to the depth of what's blooming between us. When I pull back, our eyes lock, and I see everything I feel reflected back at me in her gaze—wonder, vulnerability, strength.

"I love you too," I say, the words spilling out raw and honest.

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