Page 67 of Summertime Friends

And he then told me that I am easy to love. Like what?

You’re wrong. You are so easy to love, Emerson. I’m sorry no one has ever made you feel that way before.

I don’t know how he knows that when Liam barely knows me. Or does he?

Liam holds the door to the restaurant open to let me through while taking my hand to help me down the small set of steps. We walk hand in hand, fingers interlocked together.

We could get an Uber back, but we don’t. It’s not even a question between us if we should or not. We walk. We have every day since our walk home in Lagos. Small, nonsensical conversations pass between us, but it’s the easy, comfortable silence that sits between us that I think we both enjoy. Words aren’t always necessary, at least not with us. Our walks are intimate, a way to be together without questions or pressure of getting to know each other or need to be enough for anyone or anything else. We’re simply Liam and Emerson on our walks.

Several blocks from our hotel, two people are playing music on the street—one on cello and the other on violin. An instrumental version of Taylor Swift’s “Love Story” starts playing.

“Dance with me,” Liam says, pressing a kiss to my forehead.

He pulls us into the street; the only people outside besides us sit on the patios of the restaurants nearby.

I take his lead, turning toward him. His other hand comes to the small of my back. Mine move to his back, pressing into his shoulder blades for support. We move in unison from side to side for most of the song. I can feel the muscles of his back tense and relax with each step. He removes his hand from my back, and he spins me out. My dress flows out from my body, riding up to where most of my bare legs show. While spinning back into him, my heel gets caught in the stones, and I slip. Before I can fall, Liam catches me.

My breath hitches as I look up at him.He’s so handsome.

I blink, fixating my eyes deeper into his. They darken, and I can sense the heat and desire flooding from them.

My body is upright in a collision of our mouths.

“Take me back now,” I pant out breathily. “Please.”

Liam says thank you in French and drops a few euros in their cup before leading us back to the hotel.

It feels like my slip slipped us both into a different dimension. Our pace is rushed as we make our way back to the hotel. Stopping once in a dark alley to kiss—pushed up against a brick wall, leg curled around his back, neck exposed, warm lips finding my pulse.

The tension between us and between my legs increases as we climb the hotel’s stairs. It’s like the walls are closing in, pressurizing us to the point where the only solution is combustion.

But I may combust before that if we don’t get to the room quick enough and his touch is all over me.

I slip my hand out of his after he pulls us into his room, taking a few steps away from him. It’s dark, dimly illuminated by the moon coming through the windows.

I bend down to undo my heels.

“Stop.” Within seconds, Liam is in front of me. He’s not speaking, but I can sense the fire growing inside me, letting me know he’s there. His breath is warm and trailing down my exposed skin. Taking a deep breath through my nose, I relish in his smell.

He bends down, kneeling before me, taking off my heels. Kissing the inside of my knees and thighs as he removes my shoes. It’s gentle and tantalizingly slow. A precision to his tactics meant to drive me wild.

Liam stands.

He lifts his right hand to my shoulder, his fingers loosely playing with the ties to my dress. If he were to pull one of the strings, that side of my dress would fall, revealing part of my lacey, strapless black bra.

He takes another step closer; our bodies now flush together. He leans his head down, mouth level with my ear. “Emerson,” he pants. My eyes shut, and my head leans into his touch and voice.

He pulls the tie, undoing the bow.

“Liam,” I say back to him.

He drags his hand over my collarbone, his lips trailing kisses to the other shoulder, releasing that tie.

My dress falls to the floor, revealing my lacey, strapless black bra and matching lace underwear. Slowly, I lift my head to meet his gaze.

His eyes are beating down on me. Practically flush together, I can feel and sense his needs.

“My view was better with you on your knees,” I say.

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