Page 61 of Liam
For an agonizing moment, Liam doesn’t move. Have I misread everything? But then his hands are on my bare waist, pulling me flush against him. His lips crash into mine with an urgency that steals my breath.
This kiss is nothing like our first. Where that was tentativeand exploratory, this is all-consuming fire. Years of longing, of missed chances and unspoken desires, pour out as we cling to each other.
Liam’s hands roam my back, leaving trails of heat in their wake. My fingers tangle in his hair, marveling at its softness. He walks me backward until I hit the kitchen counter, then lifts me onto it without breaking the kiss. I wrap my legs around his waist, eliminating any remaining space between us.
When we part, gasping for air, Liam rests his forehead against mine. His eyes are dark, pupils blown wide with desire. “Are you sure about this?” he asks, his voice rough and strained.
In response, I pull him in for another searing kiss. Because for once in my life, I’m certain about something. And that something is Liam Valeur.
Chapter Eighteen
LIAM
Ihoist her onto the marble counter, her legs curling around me in a way that drives every rational thought straight out of my head. My cock strains against my pants, pulsing, desperate for release.
I’ve been craving her for weeks, obsessing over the memory of my fingers buried deep inside her, the taste of her pussy lingering in my mind like it had happened only yesterday. I press myself harder against her. Every second of restraint feels like torture.
Her hand slides down, fumbling with my pants, trying to free me. But I stop her, grasping her wrist.
“Aleria,” I rasp, my voice rough with need. I’m trying to slow myself down, but the pull she has on me is too strong. Her lips graze my neck, and her breath is hot against my skin, making it impossible to think straight.
I growl, crushing my mouth to hers in a kissso desperate, so full of everything I’ve held back over the years. The years of wanting, of not daring to take what I craved. Of not daring to care for anyone that I might lose. The taste of her is intoxicating, filling every part of me that’s been empty for so long, but it terrifies me.
I’ve built walls, made sure I’d never get close enough to anyone to feel this way, to want this badly because losing people—losing her—would break me.
My hands grip her harder, pulling her to me as if holding her tight enough could stop her from slipping away. Her soft moans stir something deep inside, an ache that goes beyond lust, beyond the physical. It’s the kind of ache I’ve spent years burying. I couldn’t afford it—not after my mother was ripped from my life, not after my father became a shadow, too consumed by his work to even notice how much we were falling apart.
I was just a kid, but I had to step up. I had to be the one to hold things together for my sister, to be strong for her when there was no one else. But that meant no one could be strong for me. I couldn’t afford to let anyone in. So I didn’t. I hardened, learned to keep people at a distance. I didn’t allow myself to care about anyone more than I had to, and that worked. It kept me safe.
Until Aleria.
Now, every second feels like I’m standing on the edge of a cliff about to fall. The way she responds to me, the way she gasps my name, her body arching into mine—everything about her is undoing the careful control I’ve built my life on. And I hate it.
I crave it.
“You’re not running away again, are you?” she whispers,her breath hot against my neck. Her voice is low, almost a plea.
“No.” My voice comes out rough, more a growl than words. “I’m not running anymore.”
She hesitates for a second, then continues sliding her hand over the front of my pants. Blood rushes to my cock with an intensity that makes me dizzy. All the self-control I’ve been clinging to slips through my fingers.
The kiss is messy. Our tongues clash, teeth grazing as if we’re battling for control. It’s wild, frantic, fueled by years of pent-up desire that neither of us could satisfy.
Her breasts press against my chest as she wriggles beneath me, her nipples hard through the thin fabric of her bra. I yank one strap down, exposing her. Her skin is flawless, creamy against the cool white of the marble countertop.
“Fuck, you’re beautiful.” I lower my head, sucking her nipple into my mouth, rolling it over my tongue as I savor her taste. I flick my tongue against it, again and again, until she’s trembling beneath me, her head thrown back, those wild curls framing her flushed face.
So damn beautiful.
I bite down, just enough to make her gasp, her moan sharp and needy.
“God, Liam. That’s…too much.”
“We’re just getting started, baby.” I yank the other strap down, switching to her other breast, sucking, biting, licking.
Her hand presses harder against my pants, rubbing me in maddening strokes, and I groan, my mouth still latched onto her. “You planning to keep teasing me?”
Without answering, she slips her hand beneath the waistband of my sweatpants, wrapping her fingers around mylength. The feel of her skin, so soft, so warm, almost makes me lose it right there.
