I nod slowly, heart ticking faster. “So maybe he didn’t just want to clean up the city,” I whisper. “Maybe he wanted to paint a target on his own back… to make everyone rally behind him.”
Liam doesn’t argue.
He pulls me in tighter, like he can feel the chill sinking into me. But even with his arms around me, the weight of what we just said doesn’t go anywhere.
I glance up. Liam’s still staring at the ceiling, jaw tight, that stormy look creeping back in. The one he gets when his brain won’t quit—when everything’s tangled and there’s no clear way through.
I don’t want that tonight. Don’t want to lose the quiet we carved out.
So I lean in and kiss him. Soft. Barely there. Just enough to remind him I’m here.
His hand slips to my waist, fingers curling gently. He kisses me back, but slower, like he’s asking if it’s okay.
I answer with another kiss, catching his bottom lip between mine.
“Don’t think about it right now,” I murmur. “Just stay.”
His eyebrow lifts, playful. “That your way of saying you want a round two?”
I laugh under my breath. “Maybe. You’ve been a good distraction.”
His eyesdarken with something playful—and hungry. “Oh, yeah? I could be even better if you let me.”
I hum against his mouth. “That sounds like a challenge.”
A few tangled sheets and gasping moans later, we’re both a little breathless again, flushed and tangled in limbs and laughter.
It hadn’t taken much—just the press of my mouth to his, the mischievous spark in my eyes—and suddenly, Liam is flipping me onto my back, grinning like the devil himself as I squeal in protest. He kisses me hard, his tongue slipping into my mouth as his hands roam my body with a kind of playful, but intense, urgency. I trace my nails down his spine, making him shiver and curse against my skin, teasing the nubs of his pecs.
This time it isn’t slow or careful.
His cock is inside me before I can even register he’s moved. Our bodies collide in fast, frenzied movements, like we’re teenagers, desperate to devour each other before the moment slips away. He’s muttering something about how unfair it is that I can distract him so easily. I tell him to shut up and prove it.
He does.
By the time he’s done, my pussy is sore, our breaths are ragged, and our skin is damp with sweat. And I can’t stop smiling.
I roll onto my side and trace idle shapes along his chest with my fingers, still catching my breath.
“We should stay in the rest of the day,” I murmur. “Just the three of us. No campaign stuff, no Russian Mafia plots, no public outings. Just you, me, and Lily. Maybe watch something stupid on TV and pretend the world isn’t burning down for once.”
Liam lets out a low chuckle, his fingers stroking through my hair. “You know, that actually sounds perfect.”
“Good,” I say, snuggling closer. “Because I’m not letting you leave this bed until at least noon.”
“I’m not arguing, Princess,” he murmurs and kisses the top of my head.
Eventually, I shift off Liam’s chest, stretching with a contented sigh. My muscles ache in all the right ways.
“Think we should check on Lily?” I ask, already missing the warmth of his body against mine, but feeling that pull, that quiet instinct that’s always tethered to her now.
Liam nods, brushing a lazy kiss to my shoulder before sitting up and running a hand through his mess of curls. “Yeah. She’s been quiet way too long. Either she’s plotting something… or she’s finally learning to give her parents a damn break.”
We both laugh, the sound soft and shared as we slip out of bed, throwing on loose clothes—him in sweatpants and a tee, me in one of his old college shirts that hangs down past my thighs.
Padding down the stairs, I approach Lily in the playpen. Peeking over the side, I feel my chest tighten with something achingly tender.
Lily’s still asleep.