Page 45 of Not That Impossible

I had no fucking clue what he wanted.

“You’re clingy and there’s a good chance that if we do this, you’ll get too attached.”

I had bad news for him. I was already about as attached as I could possibly be.

Also about as pissed off.

“And yet—” he’d made it to the step below me, “—you’re going to turn around so I can watch your ridiculous fucking peach of an arse bounce while you get up those stairs, walk into your bedroom, get on your bed, and take what I’m going to give you.”

My anger evaporated as I stared down into his eyes. Stern, stormy, and absolutely with no self-doubt whatsoever.

Was it…was it age? Did you grow into something like this, this arrogance and certainty?

Would I ever be this confident?

I couldn’t imagine myself being like this any more than I could imagine myself waking up one morning, opening my email, and discovering that I’d won a Pulitzer Prize for journalism.

And I had a great imagination.

I whirled around and bolted up the stairs.

Liam laughed behind me, and came up at a much more sedate pace.

Still quick, though.

I flung myself onto my bed, panting into the duvet.

11

After a long moment, I said, “Are you standing therelookingat me again?”

His voice was hoarse when he replied, “Of course I’m looking at you. Who wouldn’t?”

“Until today?” I muttered. “You.” I jerked when cool fingers wrapped around one of my ankles. He pulled, gently. It wasn’t enough to move me, but it was enough to make my dick drag over the duvet.

“What was that?” he said.

“Nothing.” Shut up, I told myself. Shutup. Now is not the time to remind him that he has a long history of ignoring you.

Liam didn’t say anything. He let go of my ankle, and then he didn’t do anything.

“Oh my god.” I squirmed against the duvet. “What are youdoing?” I’d have thought that he was reconsidering the whole thing and on the brink of walking out, except Ifelthis attention on me like a physical thing. I squirmed again, half in embarrassment and half in arousal.

The friction felt amazing against my dick, which was by this point throbbingly hard. I tried not to do it, but I couldn’t help it. I ground down, pushing my hips into the mattress to get some relief. I did it again, and then again, working in tiny tight circles that I pretended to myself he wouldn’t notice.

“Shit,” Liam whispered.

I froze.

“Oh no,” he said. “Keep doing that.”

“What?” I said, and spread my knees wider. I dipped my back, and thrust against the bed in a slow, thorough circle. “This?”

“Yeah.”

I could do it. Lie there, spread out before him, and hump the bed until I came. It wouldn’t take much. It would be almost like the fantasy I’d had the last time we kissed. With the key difference being that, in the fantasy, Liam was touching me.

I rolled over onto my back and stretched out as temptingly as I knew how.

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