Page 153 of My Wife
“Like carrying around guilt for years and years.”
“Or shame. Or thinking that you’re not lovable. Feeling lonely.”
I swallow the lump in my throat. “In that case, Liam, will you talk to me like you love me?”
A long, long beat passes when he says more with his eyes than he’s ever said with words. “Yes, but also, how about I show you?” He steps closer.
I lift a shoulder in casual confirmation while my heart slams against my ribs because Liam’s blue-gray eyes are on me, saying one thing.
He wants me.
Threading his fingers through mine, he draws me into him and the space between us disappears. Before our mouths meet, he plants his lips on the inside of my wrist, then in that little dip in my collarbone, then he tickles my neck with his breath as he trails kisses from under my jaw to behind my ear, and to my temple.
The little tug inside me grows and my breath turns erratic.
Liam’s hands land on my lower back. I tug on his shirt.
My cheek brushes his stubble.
At last, our mouths meet. The kiss heats between us, sending the swizzles from my head to my toes.
Liam gently cups my jaw and I twine my fingers into his hair. There’s no denying our physical chemistry. I mean how could there not be, at least for me, given #MrDarcysAbs? However, it goes deeper now. So does the kiss.
We were both loners and while he made himself an island, I got lost in the crowd, surrounding myself with people like the Coogans who didn’t really care. I was afraid to be alone. Liam was afraid to let people in. We weren’t that different after all.
As we settle into the kiss, maybe we’re exactly right for each other.
It took a rude awakening and a return home for me to prioritize quality friendships over trying to prove that I was worthy of them. For Liam, it took losing sleep to see that building quality relationships are less risky than being alone.
And all of that somehow worked, in a clumsy way, to bring us together. I feel the pounding of Liam’s heart, for me. His hands are on me, his mouth. He’s mine and I’m his.
At some point, all these thoughts disappear, so do my limbs, skin, bones, gone along with complete awareness. Poof. I melt into my man’s arms and I’m a puddle.
I only surface from the bliss that is this kiss when I feel something change with the press of Liam’s lips to mine. It’s then I realize that he’s smiling against my mouth. A big, happy smile. It’s the one I didn’t even realize I was waiting for.
I whisper, “Me too.”
A laugh rumbles through his chest.
Communication is vital, whatever it looks, sounds, or feels like. Turns out, I rather like how Liamisn’tusing his words.
Gripping me close, we make out some more on the sidewalk, in the soft night with the stars twinkling above.
When we part, I say, “With all that talk about confetti, piñatas, and pin the tail on the donkey, it sounds like we need to throw a party.”
“What are we celebrating?”
“Us.”
“Will there be cake?” he asks.
“Yes, Liam, yes.”
“So are we communicating now, finally?” he asks.
“I would say so.”
He says, “I have one more thing I’d like you to know.”
