Page 38 of A Forgotten Mistake

I let him kiss my neck without pulling away but wrap my arms around him to hold him close. “Liam, you’re not going to ruin me or taint me or whatever you have stuck in your head. We’re in this together. I want to be with you because I love you. I love how smart and funny and caring you are. You make me so unbelievably happy. You make me feel like I’m the best person in the world. And you make me feel so loved. I really can’t tell you how much you mean to me.” I squeeze him tightly.

“You clearly got your hugs from your mom,” he whispers.

“They’re not that crushing.”

“They’re pretty crushing,” he says as he hugs me back. “But I really like them.”

“Good.” I kiss Liam’s parted lips, savoring the touch of his tongue as I push our cocks together and draw my fingers down them. He grabs the lube from the drawer next to the bed and squeezes some into his hand before he glides his slick fingers over our cocks. Then as my hand strokes up and down our lengths, he reaches around behind me and traces over my hole. He pushes gently inside me as I moan.

His finger presses deeper, brushing against the sensitive skin inside me as my hand moves down our lengths. His lips find mine as I’m pulled further into bliss, especially when I hear him moan. I love how responsive he is to my touch—the way he shudders when I rub the head of his cock just right, or the way he murmurs approval as my hand reaches the base and squeezes just a little.

Liam’s breath is coming quicker, and I realize that mine is as well as my body heats. His finger presses just right inside of me, and I groan. Desire consumes me as I come, driven to the edge by the way pleasure takes hold of me. I squeeze his cock gently before drawing my hand up as he reaches his limit and comes, hot liquid spurting between us.

Breath short, he pulls me in and kisses me again before murmuring how much he loves me, and I find myself feeling so goddamn happy. So fucking happy.

“Liam… your phone,” I mutter as his phone wakes me from my sleep. I glance over at him and see that he’s halfway off thebed as his new cat—who still needs a name since I won’t let him name it First Commander Satan the Third—has completely taken over his part of the bed. For a man who claimed that he would never allow the thing to evensleepon the bed, he’s now struggling to enjoy even his section of it.

“Hmm?”

“Your phone,” I say.

He grudgingly lifts his head and looks around before he finds his phone and spares a glance at it. Liam scowls and then pushes around the cat to join me on my side of the bed. He drops the phone and wraps his arms around me as he draws me in tight, prepared to ignore the phone that’s frantically been going off.

The comforting feeling of his strong arms immediately makes me forget about everything else as I close my eyes and feel him kiss my fingertips until the phone beeps again.

Since Liam is prepared to ignore it, I pick it up and look at the text.

Abby: Liam, I need your help, please. Come to my apartment.

Abby: Please. Please. I need you.

“What’s going on?” I ask, a chill running through me.

“You know as much as I do,” he says, not letting go of my hand so I can have easier access to the phone.

I scroll up to see if there’s been any exchange between them previously. I see that she messages him one time a year, every year for as far back as the phone seems to go. On March 9 of every year, she simply writes: Happy Day.

But that’s not his birthday, right?

Sometimes he replies. Sometimes he doesn’t. It’s never much. The last time was a “Happy Day” back.

Liam is still kissing my hand as he watches me. He’s peering at me from between my fingers, kissing my palm as his eyes watch me with such fixation that I suddenly feel weird about the whole thing. I simply need to ask him what it means. That’s not that hard. He’s always thrilled to tell me what I want to know.

His head cocks a little as he moves his lips up to the tips of my fingers and kisses each one as I see another text from Abby come through.

Abby: Liam, I’m begging you. Please. I will do anything you ask. Please. I need you to come to my apartment. Please.

“Are you going to go see her?” I ask.

“What do you want?”

I don’t know what to do with that. “Does it matter what I want?”

“Of course. I’ll do anything and everything you want,” he says. “If you want me to throw the phone away and just love you, I’ll never look at the phone again.”

“She seems really upset about something.”

“So do you.”

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