Page 53 of A Simple Reminder

His hand gently catches mine, halting my movements. “We don’t need to hurry.” His voice is soft, almost pained, as if he’s holding himself back from something he craves just as much as I do.. “I’m going to make you feel so good, I promise.”

But I can’t wait, the urgency and need within me is too great to ignore. I rise up, meeting his gaze squarely. “Do you have a condom?”

He smiles, a slow, knowing grin that only deepens the flush on my cheeks. “Always prepared,” he responds, his voice thick with anticipation. Retrieving a condom from his pocket. I try not to think about why he had that condom waiting in his pocket. A flicker of doubt crosses my mind—Was he planning this? Or hoping to get lucky with someone else?

He sheds his pants and boxers in one fluid motion, revealing his full, breathtaking form. Every inch of him is sculpted perfection—the ridges of his abs, the taut muscles of his chest, and the undeniable power in his thighs. Thick and solid, they flex with a natural ease, a testament to the strength that lies beneath. The pronounced V-lines that seem to point directly to the thick, commanding length of him. My breath catches as my gaze drops lower, and my mouth dries at the sight of his cock, hard and glistening at the tip, a bead of arousal shimmering in the dim light like a promise I’m desperate to claim.

In one fluid motion, he’s on top of me, my hands shooting up to his shoulder, pressing him against me, my mouth searching for his as if it held the last droplet of water.

Each kiss is hot, commanding every single part of me. He tastes like spices and freedom. He molds to my body, and it feels like all my layers are slipping away.

Why does it feel so right with him? So safe.

I draw my hands down his back slowly until they reach his perfectly sculpted ass, pressing him against my core. He groans against my mouth, but he doesn’t give in.

“Sophie,” he grits out from between his teeth, and he locks his eyes on mine in a challenge. Can he start fucking me before all senses come back to me? Please?

His hands don’t go straight to where I want him most—not yet. His fingers trace along my inner thighs, feather-light and maddening, skimming the sensitive skin that’s already burning for his touch. Every teasing glide of his fingertips has my body arching toward him, begging silently for more

“Liam, stop playing.”

He chuckles low in his throat, the sound dark and full of promise. “You’re so impatient,” he murmurs, his hands sliding higher, brushing everywhere but where I need him. My breath hitches as he takes his time, torturing me in the most exquisite way.

“Liam...” At last, his fingers find me, stroking me with deliberate laziness, each motion drawing a sharp gasp from my lips. His touch is so precise, so devastatingly sure, as if he’s memorized every inch of me, every place that drives me wild.

“You’re drenched.” He keeps on rubbing, inserting one thick finger inside me to the hilt, and random stuttering words leave my mouth. “I told you I would make you feel good.”

“Yeah,” I breathe out the word, desire flaming hotter with every touch, every kiss to my neck. It’s been ten years, yet he still knows how to play my body like an instrument crafted solely for his hands. As much as others have tried, no one else can elicit the symphony of sensations that Liam does.

“Have you been thinking about this, Sunshine?” he murmurs, his voice molten heat against my skin. My mind is too fogged to respond, a whimper spilling out instead. “Oh, that’s what I thought,” he says, smug and relentless, his tongue tracing the shell of my ear. “But I want to hear you say it.” Another finger slides into me, his thumb pressing down on my clit, and the plea tumbles out before I can stop it. “Yes, Liam—yes, for ten years.” I let the admission out. There’s nothing that would stop it at this point. Nothing at all.

“I knew it,” he says, and I can hear the pride and smile on his face. His hand disappears, leaving me achingly empty for a heartbeat—but not for long. In one swift, powerful motion, he aligns his body perfectly with mine and fills me completely. A gasp tears from my throat, raw and unrestrained, as he claims me. The rhythm of our bodies is desperate, a decade of longing spilling out in every thrust, every moan, every breathless cry.

Primal sounds fill the room—our voices mingling in a raw chorus. I'm not sure who's louder, me or Liam.

The sensation is intense, a deep, fulfilling connection that sends a bolt of pleasure through me, grounding me and unraveling me all at once. My breath comes in rapid, shallow bursts as the heat between us builds to an almost unbearable intensity. Every nerve in my body is alive, tingling with raw desire as he remains still for a moment.

“I could stay here forever,” he breathes, his voice a husky whisper against the curve of my neck, each word sinking into my skin like a promise I want so desperately to believe. His words send a pang of emotion through me, so deep and visceral it’s almost painful. I cling to him, overwhelmed by the sweetness of his words and the weight of what they mean. My heart feels like it might burst, caught between wanting to believe him and fearing the consequences of doing so.

For a fleeting second, it feels like everything is exactly how it’s supposed to be—as if this,us, is the only thing that makes sense in the chaos. But the sweetness is laced with a bitter edge, a reminder that this moment, as perfect as it feels, exists in a fragile bubble that reality will inevitably burst. I can’t let my heart join the game, no matter how much it aches to do so.

I don’t let myself respond. I can’t. His rough, unrelenting rhythm pulls me out of my thoughts, replacing every lingering doubt and fear with a haze of pure, unfiltered sensation. Each deliberate thrust sends shockwaves through me, until there’s nothing left but us—gasping for air, completely consumed.

TWENTY-THREE

LIAM

Can the body still remember a feeling you haven't felt in over ten years? Is it possible for it to hold on to that kind of ecstasy, to recall every single electric surge that once coursed through you? It’s as if my body has been waiting, holding onto the memory, ready to ignite the moment we touched again. Because right now, I’m back in Barcelona, falling in love all over again. Being with Sophie—being inside her—feels like home.

Her body responds to mine like we’ve never been apart, like she was always meant to sing under my touch. Every movement, every breath we share feels like the verse of a song we started writing a decade ago, unfinished until now. And God, how I’ve missed that song.

She moans softly, a sound that vibrates through me like a goddamn command. Her hips rise to meet mine, desperate and unyielding, and the way she whispers my name—breathless, wrecked—shatters whatever self-restraint I have left. I slam into her harder, her nails scoring down my back in a way that blurs pleasure and pain. I’m on the edge—so damn close to losing control—but I refuse to let it end yet. Not like this. I want more. I want her unraveling beneath me, her body mine in every possible way.

“Liam…” she breathes my name, shaky, needy, trembling with something that feels like surrender. It’s almost too much, nearly enough to push me over the brink.

“Yes," I growl, low and dark, leaning down to claim her mouth, “say it again.”

Her lips part, but all she can manage is a whimper, and that sound wrecks me. I can feel how her body clenches around me, pulling me deeper, dragging me into her in a way that feels inevitable, unstoppable. My hand glides between her breasts, the curve of her body guiding me as I trail lower, down her stomach. She’s trembling now, her breath catching in shallow gasps.

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