Page 60 of Liam
I take a bite, surprised by the burst of flavor. “These areactually good,” I blurt out, then wince at how that sounds. “I mean, not that I expected them to be bad, but...”
Liam quirks an eyebrow, a hint of his usual swagger returning. “Did you think billionaires couldn’t cook, Dr. James?”
My cheeks heat. “Well, I assumed you had people for that. You know, personal chefs, pancake artisans...”
“Pancake artisans?” Liam chuckles, the sound warming me more than the tea. “Is that a real job? Because if so, I may have chosen the wrong career path.”
I grin. “Oh yes, very prestigious. They study for years to achieve the perfect golden-to-fluffiness ratio.”
“And here I’ve been wasting my time with law and engineering,” Liam sighs. “Clearly, I should have pursued the noble pancake arts.”
We share a laugh, and for a moment, it’s like old times. Before the fire, before the kiss, before everything got so complicated. But as the laughter fades, the weight of unspoken words settles back over us.
“Liam, about last night...” I start, then falter. How do I even address everything that happened?
“The smoke was pretty intense,” Liam says. “I’m just glad I got to you in time.”
I study his profile, wondering if he's deliberately misunderstanding. “Me too. Thank you for saving me. But I meant…” I pause, gathering my courage. “After.”
His fork stills against his plate. The kitchen feels suddenly too warm, too small.
“Aleria…” Liam's voice is rough as he finally meets my gaze. He leans forward, his movement as slow and deliberate as a gravitational pull. I mirror him without thinking, drawn in bya force as inexorable as the tide. The kitchen around us fades, my world narrowing to the diminishing space between us, the blue storm in his eyes, the slight part of his lips.
My pulse quickens, each beat a staccato rhythm of anticipation and doubt. Is this happening? Are we really going to?
A piercing ring shatters the silence. We jerk apart as if burned, the moment fracturing like glass. The real world comes rushing back in, harsh and demanding. Liam’s phone continues its shrill cry, an unwelcome intruder in our fragile bubble.
Liam answers the call, his voice clipped, and professional as he speaks to someone from work. I use the opportunity to gather our plates, needing something to do with my hands.
When he hangs up, Liam runs a hand through his hair, looking troubled. “Aleria, we need to talk.”
My stomach drops. Here it comes. The inevitable retreat, the careful distancing. I swallow hard, willing my voice not to betray me. “Okay.”
“If we pursue this,” Liam begins, each word measured, “there will be complications. I’d need to assign someone else to supervise your project. We couldn’t work together anymore.”
I blink, my mind struggling to process his words. This isn’t the rejection I’d braced for. “You...want to pursue this?”
Liam’s eyebrows shoot up, his expression a mix of surprise and something that looks almost like hurt. “You don’t?”
“I didn’t say that,” I blurt out, the words tumbling over each other in their haste.
Liam takes a step closer, his eyes never leaving mine. “Aleria, I’ve been fighting this for weeks. I know I hurt youbefore, and I’m so sorry for that. But I can’t stop thinking about you. I made a huge mistake back then. A mistake I can’t erase, but I hoping you’ll be able to give me a second chance?”
His words hang in the air between us, heavy with hope and possibility. My heart races, a battle between caution and desire raging within me. “You did hurt me,” I admit. “But I want us to try and explore what we might have.”
Liam’s face lights up with a smile that takes my breath away. Then he sobers, launching into a detailed explanation of all the changes we’ll need to make, all the potential pitfalls we might face.
Liam’s words wash over me, a torrent of practicalities and precautions. I try to focus, to be the responsible adult he’s expecting. But my gaze keeps drifting to his lips, remembering their softness, their insistence. The silk robe—his robe—whispers against my skin with each breath.
Of all the times for him to be responsible...
“Liam,” I interrupt, my voice husky, “shut up.”
Before he can react, I grasp the lapels of the robe and pull. The silk slides off my shoulders, pooling at my waist.
Liam’s eyes widen, his words dying mid-sentence as he takes in the sight of me.
“We can figure out all the details later,” I say, my hands coming to rest on his chest. “Right now, I just want you to kiss me again.”
