Page 112 of Debt of My Soul

“More,” I plead.

He drops my pinned hand, and I immediately go for his belt, clawing at it while Liam drags his teeth over my now exposed shoulder. He nips and teases, making it impossible to focus. I’m trembling, but I’ve never been so sure of something.

The portfolio of Liam’s drawings flips through my mind. The moments he recorded me in his life, needing to commit the memory on paper. Well, I want this one. I never want to forget this. This moment of time in the darkened alleyway. Escaping from the sinister world around us and wholly giving in to each other. It’s intrinsic and delicious—I never want it to end.

“I want you to draw this.” I moan as he licks and squeezes my flesh. “Us. Together. Here.”

He slows, pulling back just enough to read my face, and I chew my lip. He nods, lost in a haze of primal drive. I smile, leaning in to kiss him again and pulling at his bottom lip.

It isn’t long before Liam has me, writhing completely and utterly at his mercy. Minutes upon minutes of indescribable pleasure that I never want to end. I never knew it could be like this. And with him, it’s passionate and ravaging. He focuses on each breath that catches in my throat, aiming to draw more and more from my lips.

“Fleur …” Liam whispers my name, and it’s such a high, the only drug I’ll ever be addicted to is him. He growls my name again, and we fall together.

Chapter 41

Liam

Ishouldn’t have taken her against a trashy brick building. What was I thinking?

Clearly, I wasn’t.

Pure, unrelenting need coursed through my body with her pleas to be touched and I wasn’t strong enough to resist.

Every whimper, each sound she made, I devoured, wishing I could keep anyone from hearing her breathy moans but myself.

Her eyes widen when they land on me, taking in what we’ve done.

I snort internally. Involved my ass. I’m obsessed.

My wife, I say to myself as I stroke her cheek.

Looking around, I help Fleur with her pants while doing up my own and planning the quickest escape to the truck. Darrin will be pissed, but I don’t care. Having Fleur in my bed instead of a backlit alley is all that consumes my thoughts. I need more of her, right now.

Fleur worries with her shirt, tucking it into her jeans while avoiding looking at me. “Are you okay? I’m sorry if I pushed too hard … it’s not something I usually do.”

“Fleur, look at me.” And she does, a blush staining the rounds of her cheeks. That won’t do. “You never need to apologize to me. I want your hands on me as much or as little as you want.”

The pink on her cheeks deepens to a blazing red and she smiles, rubbing her shoulder.

I check in with Darrin and Goff, letting them know I’m going back home, and I load Fleur up into the truck.

She’s content and quiet on the way home, and I wish I could pull her thoughts from her. Head leaned against the window, she stares up at the stars.

She’s beautiful.

I want this life with her selfishly. Her in my truck, relaxed. Her in my bed, pleased. Fleur in my arms, loved.

I pause on that word, jerking my head forward.

Shit. I love her.

Pondering this until we hit the gate, I barely hear Fleur ask about food and I end up pulling into the wrong cabin, the one down from us.

When I finally park at the right place, Fleur throws me an inquisitive gaze, her lips twisting into a sweet smile.

“Race you to the shower,” she blurts, diving out of the truck.

I chuckle, watching her hair bound behind her head and through the door.

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