Page 73 of Wants and Needs
“I want you to kiss me because Iwant you to kiss me, Liam. That’s an insane fact and something I never thought I’d say. Which only confuses me more because, why now? The only way to get answers is for you to put me out of my misery and just?—”
I sigh in relief when he finally shuts me up. My mind goes hazy thanks to the tight grip his hands have on my shoulders, andthen he moves his lips against mine. Just a little, just enough for me to need more.
And when he pulls back suddenly, I don’t let him get far.
“Not enough,” I growl, and I hook a hand on the back of his neck to pull him back to me. And then I’m the one melding our lips together, kneading his with barely-there bites. I lick his lower lip, and feel him tremble against me.
It’s all the evidence I need to know, but I still take my time, slowing the kiss down.
I can’t lie, I like the way Liam grips my arms like he’s scared of letting me go, so I stroke the soft skin of his nape with one hand and place the other on his shoulder so he can feel me right here.
When I open my eyes it’s to see his brilliant blue ones steady on mine.
No more hiding.
Liam
“I . . .”
That’s all Carter says, and it’s enough to have my heart racing like I just ran a marathon.
Just like the kiss, I take him in, enjoying his gaze on me for as long as he’ll let me. Just like the first time I saw him, his dark eyes threaten to pull me in and trap me inside, but this time I surrender.
I catalog every inch of his face so I’ll never forget this moment.
No matter what happens next, I don’t want to forget a single thing.
“I don’t know what to say,” he whispers.
“You need to process?” I suggest. He did use those exact words in his text the other night. I have to find some way to accept whatever conclusion he comes to, and so maybe I need a moment to process too.
“Yes, I do,” he says, and nods once. I see his Adam’s apple bob with a hard swallow.
“Then don’t say anything,” I whisper. “Process all you like and I’ll make you a coffee.”
“Tea,” he croaks distractedly, like his mind is somewhere else. “Earl Gray with a splash of milk if you have it.” He clears his throat forcibly and I nod, then let go of his arms, missing the feel of his skin instantly.
“I do have it,” I murmur. “Sit down on the couch.”
I nod toward the living room that’s only a few feet away, and though it takes him another moment, I feel bereft when his hands fall to his sides.
Then I need to move away, quickly, so I walk over to the kitchen and get the kettle from the cabinet above the stove.
An idea strikes me then, and without giving myself time to second guess it, I just ask without looking in his direction.
“So which emotion are you feeling the strongest right now?”
Why am I doing this again?
“If I had to choose, I’d say confusion.”
“And the second strongest?” I keep going for who the fuck knows what reason.
“Frustration, I guess,” he whispers. I’m thankful he’s sopreoccupied by his thoughts, otherwise he’d surely have caught on to what I’m doing.
“And from one to five, how strong is the first?”
“A solid five,” he says drily.
