Page 59 of Booked for the Holidays
His voice turns to a whisper. “Thought about kissing you. Holding you. Thought about pressing inside you for the first time and making you mine for real.”
“Liam,” I whisper, heart thudding as desire curls tight and hot between my thighs, but with something else tangled in it. More than need and ache, there’s hope.
His thumb skims just beneath the hem of my sweater, brushing bare skin as he exhales a shaky breath. “You put yourself out there last year. You told me what you wanted, and I didn’t handle it well.”
I blink, surprised by the rawness in his voice.
“I was scared,” he says, forehead still pressed to mine. “Of screwing everything up. Of not being enough. But I realize now, I did the worst thing anyway. I left you wondering.”
I swallow hard, my throat tight.
“This is me putting myself out there,” he continues. “This is my confession. I want you. Not just for now. Not because we’re sharing a space or getting tangled up in nostalgia or the ridiculous errands your mom has us doing together.”
He pulls back just enough to look at me—really look at me.
“I felt it last year, and I feel it even more now. And I’m done pretending otherwise.”
My chest tightens, causing my breath to catch. It’s everything I thought I wanted to hear, but it also changes everything.
“Then make me yours, Liam.”
He watches me for one breathless beat.
Then two.
Like he’s memorizing the moment.
His hand moves from my hip to the small of my back, pulling me flush against him. My lips part on instinct, a soft gasp slipping out as I feel the hard line of him pressed to my stomach.
“We have to be quiet,” I whisper, not sure if it’s a warning or a challenge.
His lips curl against mine, a slow, dangerous smile. “Then you’ll have to be good.”
He walks me backward until my ass bumps the one solid wall of this curtained-off space, his mouth capturing mine in a kiss that starts sweet, but quickly deepens. His tongue tangles with mine, coaxing, teasing…claiming.
One of his hands grips my thigh, tugging my leg over his hip so we’re completely connected. The other slides up under my sweater, palm warm and steady on my bare skin, before gliding lower, down the front of my leggings.
I gasp softly into his mouth as his fingers slide beneath my underwear, finding me wet.
“Christ, Firefly,” he breathes against my jaw. “You’re soaked.”
A soft moan escapes before I catch it.
His free hand covers my mouth, not to silence me—toanchorme. His eyes are locked on mine, pupils wide with lust, reverence, and hunger.
“I’ve got you, baby,” he whispers. “Let me have you.”
His fingers stroke through me with expert ease, teasing slow circles against my clit that make my knees tremble. I bury my face in his neck, panting quietly against his warm skin. His toe-curling scent only spurs me on. I bite down gently on the skin at his collarbone to keep from making a sound.
“Last night was perfect, but this?” he murmurs, his finger teasing at my entrance. “I’ve thought about how much I want this,” he fills me with his fingers. “To make you fall apart under my touch.”
He’s right. Last night was fun, but now, with his fingers thrusting inside me, it’s another level of pleasure.
His fingers move with infuriating precision. Like somehow he’s studied me. Like he knows exactly what I need and how I need it.
My head tips back against the wall, eyes squeezed shut as I bite down on the sleeve of his sweater to keep quiet. The sounds I want to make would definitely get us kicked out.
“God, Juni,” he murmurs, low and wrecked against my neck. “You’re so wet for me. You’ve been like this all day, haven’t you? Just thinking about how you got off on my leg last night.”
