Page 52 of Lost in You (The Monroes 3)

Macy pulled her hand away and did the only thing she could. She pulled her shirt over her head and flung it across the room.

Let the battle of the “A games” commence.

Chapter Twelve

Liam couldn’t help himself. His eyes went directly to Macy’s pale yellow lace bra. The scalloped edging against her skin practically begged for his fingertips—or his tongue—to trace an outline. She sat there so perfectly, so confident. And while he had talked quite a bit about taking charge, he was actually a poser, relatively inexperienced in this area. He’d only been with a few women, and since his fiancée, he’d been alone.

He knew what he wanted, though, and no way in hell was he turning Macy away. He sure as hell wasn’t going to sit here and let her pretend this was just like any other sexual encounter. This was more. As much as he didn’t want more, he couldn’t deny there was something substantial happening between them.

Reaching out, Liam framed her face with his hands and eased forward until his face was within a breath. “You’re mine.”

Her eyes widened, her breath tickled his lips.

“Say it, Macy. If you’re staying here, you’d better damn well know who you’re with.”

“I know,” she whispered. “I know who I’m with, Liam.”

The final thread of control snapped the second his name slid through her lips. He crashed his mouth to hers and jerked her body to his. Wrapping his arms around her waist, he stood, pulling her with him. He lifted her off the floor, keeping his mouth locked onto hers. Macy’s legs instantly wrapped around his waist.

Liam’s hand ran up her back, clutched the back of her head, and tipped her in the other direction to dive in deeper. He couldn’t get enough of her, couldn’t get to his bedroom fast enough. But he also wanted to make this last because in the end, he had no clue where this would take their relationship.

Shoving that thought out of his mind, Liam started heading toward the bedroom.

“No,” she panted against his lips. “Not the bed.”

“I want you in my bed.”

Looping her arms around his neck, she pulled her head back farther. “It’s not negotiable.”

Fine. Whatever her thing was, he’d go with it, but he was retaining control here. Liam turned around, heading back toward the couch.

“Any other demands?” he muttered against her lips.

“Stop talking.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

He stared down at her, fully committing her body to memory.

“What are you doing?” she whispered.

“I always feast with my eyes first.” He let his eyes travel slowly up until he caught her heavy-lidded gaze. “Occupational hazard.”

Liam followed her down to the couch. He straddled her legs and eased up to get a full visual sample. Macy’s bright blue eyes held his, her dark hair falling all around her bare shoulders. That bra continued to mock him, but those jeans had to go. He reached down and jerked the button, slowly pulling the zipper down, all the while keeping his eyes locked on hers.

Her breath came in pants and Liam was nearly shaking in an attempt to keep his emotions in check. He didn’t remember having this ache in him, this all-consuming need inside that pulled him toward a woman. Why Macy? Why couldn’t this be just sex?

He scooted off the couch, yanking her jeans as he went. “Damn boots,” he muttered when the denim got caught.

Macy laughed. “Easy there, Trigger. I’m not going anywhere.”

Quickly he removed the boots, socks, and jeans. Glancing back up her curves, he appreciated the matching bra and panty set. Of course she could’ve had anything at all beneath her clothes and he would’ve still found her perfect.

“Do you always wear sexy things under your jeans and flannels?”

Her smile had his heart flipping. He didn’t have room for his heart in the mix . . . not tonight, not with Macy.

“I have a thing for lingerie.”

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