Page 12 of Avalanche
“Your hair?” Lily laughs, a soft, bewildered laugh that doesn’t have an ounce of meanness in it. She scrambles up the bed, until she’s sitting with her back against the headboard, her legs crossed. “No, your hair is fine, Matty.” She reaches out to trace one finger on my knee, shooting me a reassuring smile. “I was talking about my hair.” Her smile falters, gaze going distant. “I just thought… my last boyfriend…”
Her throat bobs and I track the movement of it, my attention lingering on the pink skin that marks where my lips were only minutes ago. When she’d been panting beneath me, desperate for my touch.
Before I ruined the moment with my bumbling inexperience.
“Your last boyfriend was an idiot.” I jolt at the sound of Liam’s drawl, at the scathing tone in his voice.
I turn to see him leaning in the doorframe, faint light from the kitchen marking his silhouette, casting his face in shadow. Antoine is close behind him, the elegant curve of his features marked gold in the light. My chest squeezes at the sight of them, stomach tightening with nerves.
“Well, yeah,” Lily concedes wryly. “He was…”
“What’s this about your hair, ma puce?” Antoine asks gently.
Lily drags both hands over her face and groans in embarrassment.
“Let me guess.” Liam folds his arms across his chest, his lips curving with disdain. “Your ex was one of those guys who claims to be into chicks but gets squeamish at the sight of an actual vagina.”
“Oh, you mean that type of hair.” Antoine gives a small chuckle, then follows Liam into Lily’s room, his footsteps padding across the carpet until he’s at the bed. He climbs onto it without preamble, placing himself beside Lily with comfortable familiarity, his long legs tucked in, his knees knocking against her own.
Liam stands at the other side of the bed, lingering, as if uncertain whether he should sit down or not.
“Oh my god.” The back of Lily’s head thuds against the headboard, both arms raising to hide her face.
I shoot Antoine a pleading look. “I just wanted to go down on her,” I whisper.
Nerves have wound a knot in my stomach, and my skin heats from the tips of my ears to my neck. I don’t know what the heck I’m doing. But this is the girl I’m going to marry, dang it. If I can’t face embarrassment for her, I sure as heck don’t deserve to get down on one knee for her.
Antoine gives me an understanding smile, then turns to peel Lily’s arms away from her face.
“Ma chère,” he purrs. “What are you doing? Don’t you want Matty to make you feel good?”
Lily nods, her eyes squeezed shut, a whimper catching in her throat.
My own throat tightens. I hope I can make her feel good. But so far, I’ve just made this whole thing awkward…
Liam makes an irritated sound, scowling his disapproval at the three of us before brushing sleep mussed hair from his forehead. “No fucking way,” he grumbles. “Nope.”
I look at him in alarm, but his glower is fixed on Lily, not me.
“Open your eyes, Lily,” he orders. “You don’t get to hide from us.”
It shouldn’t send a thrill through me to hear that gravelly order, but it does.
“I’m not hiding,” Lily protests. But she opens her eyes, staring up at Liam with a mixture of irritation and hunger.
“Good,” Liam rumbles. “Then you’ll take off those little sleep shorts and let your boyfriend taste your fucking pussy.”
Lily gasps, hazel eyes widening as if no one has ever spoken to her like that in her life.
“Liam,” Antoine warns, but Liam cuts him off with a raised hand and a roll of his eyes.
“Don’t worry, love.” The faintest of smirks curves Liam’s lips. “She knows she doesn’t have to do anything she doesn’t want to do. Don’t you, Lily? But she wants it. She’s fucking desperate for it. Do you know how I know?”
Liam looks at me as he asks this question. I shake my head, too stunned to speak.
“Because this poor chick hasn’t gotten off in at least a week. Maybe longer. She’s been working herself to the point of exhaustion and not one of her five boyfriends has been thoughtful enough to order her to get in bed, spread her legs and let them worship her. Well.” A low huff. “I guess that’s what we’re fucking doing now, isn’t it? Lily, pants off. No, don’t give me that look. You know I’m right—you’ve gotten wet just from me talking, haven’t you? Don’t lie. You know I can see it, right?”
He tilts his chin to where her legs are spread as she sits cross-legged, to the thin cotton of her sleep shorts pulled tight until the fabric is pressed against her core. I follow his gaze. He’s right, I realize, with a dizzying pulse of arousal. I lick my lips, almost overcome with the urge to bend forward, press my face between her thighs.
