Page 38 of Liam
But the image of Aleria alone in the dark lab won’t leave my mind. I need to fix this.
With a frustrated grunt, I push open the car door. “I’ll be right back,” I tell Marcus, ignoring his knowing smirk as I stride toward the entrance.
The lobby is quiet at this hour, my footsteps echoing off the walls. As I swipe my access card and enter the elevator, I catch my reflection in the mirrored doors. My tie hangs loose, my hair a mess from running my fingers through it too many times.
“I’m just checking on company property,” I mutter to my disheveled doppelgänger. “That’s all. Completely professional.”
My reflection looks skeptical.
The elevator dings, doors sliding open to reveal a darkened hallway. Most of the labs are dark, but a sliver of light spills from under one door at the end of the corridor.
My knuckles hover inches from the door, poised to knock when a muffled thud echoes from inside. It’s followed by a sound that might be a whimper or might be the death rattle of my common sense.
My hand drops to the handle. Just as my fingers graze the cool metal, the door explodes open like a jack-in-the-box from hell.
I have a split-second glimpse of Aleria’s wide, panicked eyes before I register the object swinging toward my head.
Her lips part in a silent gasp of recognition, but it’s too late. The heavy object in her hands—a microscope?—arcs through the air, its trajectory aimed at my skull.
I duck, the rush of air from the near-miss ruffling my hair. My body reacts before my mind can catch up. My hand shoots out, fingers closing around Aleria’s wrist mid-swing. The momentum carries us both.
The wall meets Aleria’s back with a soft thud. Our bodies collide, a jigsaw of angles and curves locking into place. The microscope hits the floor, its clatter echoing in the charged silence.
Beneath my fingers, her pulse hammers a frantic tempo against my skin. Her eyes, wide and wild, capture mine. Flecks of gold dance in those brown depths, like stars in a midnight sky. Her lips part, each breath a warm whisper against my cheek.
The thin fabric of her lab coat betrays her every curve. She’s soft where I’m hard, yielding where I’m unyielding. Heat radiates between us, a living thing with a will of its own. Her free hand fists in my shirt. My skin prickles where her breath ghosts across my neck.
Unbidden, the memories crash over me, vivid and scorching.
The dusty library corner smells like old books and possibility. Aleria’s textbooks scatter across the floor, forgotten the moment my lips find hers. She tastes like the caramel latte from the campus coffee shop: sweet and addictive.Her hands fumble with my collar, unpracticed but eager.
“Shh,” I whisper against her neck. “Someone might hear.”
She giggles, the sound shooting straight to my chest before pressing her face into my shoulder to muffle it. Her dark curls escape from their messy bun, brushing my cheek. Something twists in my gut at how perfectly she fits against me.
My fingers tremble as they find the hem of her t-shirt. When I graze her breast, the small gasp she makes has me fighting for control. Heat pools low in my stomach as she arches into my touch.
“Okay?” My voice comes out rough, desperate.
She nods, pupils blown wide behind those thick frames. “Please, Liam.”
Her skirt rides up as she wraps one leg around my hip. My hand slides beneath it, finding simple cotton underwear already soaked through. She’s wet, ready, her hips jerking at my first tentative touch. My entire body thrums with need.
“Oh God,” she whimpers, too loud for the quiet library.
I cover her mouth with my free hand, feeling her harsh breaths against my palm. My fingers slip inside her. She’s tight, wet, perfect. Each roll of her hips against my hand makes my blood sing. Her nails dig into my biceps through my worn college sweatshirt as she rocks against me, and I have to bite back a groan.
A book falls from the shelf beside us. Neither of us move to pick it up. Her thighs shake as I curl my fingers, finding that spot that makes her bite down on my palm to stay quiet. She’s beautiful like this—messy hair, flushed cheeks, completelyundone. My chest feels too tight, like my heart’s trying to break free.
When she comes, her body goes rigid against mine. The trust in her expression, the way she lets go in my arms—it cracks something open inside me. Something terrifying and vast and overwhelming.
She opens her eyes, still catching her breath, and looks at me with an emotion that makes my heart stop. Her fingers trace my cheek, and the tenderness in that touch sends panic clawing up my throat. This isn’t just desire anymore. This is something else. Something that feels like falling.
“Liam,” she whispers, and my name on her lips sounds like a future I’m not ready for.
“I have to go.” The words rip out of me as I stumble back, my body cold where hers was pressed against it moments ago. “Study group. I forgot.”
“Wait, what?” Her voice breaks, and so does something inside me.
