He took a step back, deflated but with his unsaid marching orders. An apology was in order, but hell if he knew how to word it.
Chelsea’s hand dropped from the windowsill, reaching behind, and she gripped the side of his thigh. Her fingers clung to his pants like she couldn’t move, but he couldn’t leave. “Wait.”
He understood her internal war but didn’t know what she wanted.
She shivered, and the faint tremble made his eyelids drift shut. Maybe they’d stay shut until reason or sanity showed up.
Chelsea pivoted, and her upturned face held questions he couldn’t answer.
Liam leaned a forearm over her head, pressing against the cold window. His fingers brushed over her cheek. Her eyelashes fluttered as his knuckles traced to her chin then fell away.
Lightning lit the sky. Thunder rumbled. The window shook, and she whispered, “Don’t leave tonight.”