Page 13 of Not That Impossible

I was in heaven.

I’d dreamed of this sort of encounter with Liam more times than was remotely healthy, I’d written stories about it, and the reality was a thousand times better than anything I had imagined.

Liam was right here, hot and heavy, surrounding me. He wanted me—wanted me alot, going on the erection I felt against my abs—and he was greedily taking everything I’d ever yearned to give him.

He coasted a hand the length of my body, from shoulder to hip then down my thigh before reversing. Long, drugging touches that made me relax more and more until I became nothing but sensation beneath him.

“Soft,” he said, his voice rough and deep. He gazed down into my face, his expression unreadable.

Well, he for sure wasn’t talking about my dick.

“M-my skin?” I said, arching into his touch as he stroked me again. “I moisturise.”

He hummed and pushed up, rearranging us until he was straddling me. I reached for him. He caught my hands and held them together at my chest in one of his. With his other hand, he continued to explore my body.

I bit my lip, eyes fixed on his face, trying to work out what he was thinking. I couldn’t. Not a damn clue.

He did another of those full sweeps, like he was trying to make sure he’d touched me everywhere he could reach.

He drifted a hand up the side of my waist, and squeezed. I don’t know why that felt like the sexiest hold ever, especially when he was restraining my hands, which was objectively sexier, but it was.

Heheldme.

He gripped the side of my ribs and I breathed into his hold, expanding into it, cupped in his palm. He slid his hand in and dragged it over the cobbled abs I work so hard for.

“Goddamn,” he muttered. He stroked my stomach a few times as it heaved under his touch. He circled his thumb around the rim of my bellybutton once, then again, then his explorations went in the opposite direction I’d been hoping for.

He brushed light fingers up my chest, even as he slowly lifted my restrained hands over my head to press them into the sofa cushion.

I choked and arched beneath him in one long, involuntary ripple.

His eyes flared with heat and he gripped my wrists even more firmly. He kept his other hand teasingly light as he brushed over my pecs, and then startled me by flicking a nipple.

I caught my breath and smiled up at him.

Maybe I shouldn’t have done that. Maybe he didn’t want me to smile, I don’t know. For some reason, that smile seemed to break the spell.

“Jasper,” he said. It didn’t sound great.

One day, I thought fiercely.Oneday, I’d hear him say my name the way I wanted him to say it. Hell, this had happened. Anything was possible, right?

One day, he’d say it and he’d sound happy to be saying it. Not exasperated, or angry, or—like now—sorry.

I pulled my hands free easily and reached for him. He caught them before I could get them back to where they belonged, which was holding his stupid face. He squeezed my wrists gently and gave his head a half-shake.

It was over. I knew that. “One more,” I said stubbornly and broke out of his hold again. He blinked with surprise. “One more.” I pulled him down.

He stared at my mouth, then my eyes, then back at my mouth. I didn’t pout, exactly, but I definitely licked my lips and did something that was pouting-adjacent and hopefully irresistible, and—

He kissed me again. This one was like the first kiss, startling in comparison to how soft and tender they’d become without me noticing.

This was hard, desperate, demanding.

Over.

He pushed up and off me. I didn’t even try to hold him back. I did have some pride.

Zero fucking shame, though. I lay there and let him look at me.

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