Page 40 of Lost in You (The Monroes 3)

Liam had never come to her house before. Dare she hope he was taking a step she’d been waiting on? Because she refused to give an inch—not anymore. She would’ve considered tossing all her warnings out the proverbial window had Liam not been so hell-bent on fighting the feelings between them.

Macy pulled in a deep breath before she flicked the lock and opened the door. His hair curled a bit on the ends, his stubble indicated he hadn’t shaved today, and this rough exterior made him seem a bit more like his reckless brother, Zach. But Liam was much more intriguing, much sexier. He had that whole brooding complex down, but there was that underlying vulnerability that kept pulling her back in. Well, that and the fact the man could touch her and make her knees go weak in less than a second.

“Can I come in?” he asked.

As much as she wanted to tell him no and slam the door in his face, she couldn’t deny those dark eyes looking back at her. She couldn’t deny him anything and that’s exactly how she found herself on this roller-coaster ride of frustrating emotions and raging hormones.

Without a word, she stepped back and gestured for him to enter. Once he was inside, she closed the door, then turned to face him. She crossed her arms, waiting on him to state why he was here in her personal space. Now that he stood in her home, she realized just how small its entryway was. Every time she was near Liam he monopolized everything else and all her surroundings seemed to vanish. She should’ve told Tanner she’d go out with him yesterday when he’d stopped in. Maybe if she’d spent the time with someone else, she’d exorcise Liam right out of her mind.

Not likely, but at this point she needed to try something besides beating her head against the proverbial wall.

“Are you busy?” he asked, shoving his hands in the pockets of his jeans as if he were uncertain.

“No.”

She wasn’t adding anything, wasn’t giving him anymore than what she had to. She’d already given enough last night.

“I’m sorry.” He stepped forward, close enough to touch, but he kept his hands confined. “What happened was—”

“Nothing,” she replied, lying through her teeth. “Is that all you came by for? You could’ve texted or called.”

She started by him, but stopped short when his hand gripped her elbow. Pulling in a deep breath of courage, she was also gifted with that familiar masculine smell that could only be associated with Liam. The nerves in her belly expanded as they did when he was near. Why this man? Why did she have to be all torn up over the most infuriating man she’d ever met?

“I needed to tell you in person.” His grip remained firm, but gentle. “I don’t want this between us.”

She tipped her head, enough to look into his eyes. “What don’t you want between us? The tension or the fact that you now know my body better than I know yours? Or maybe you want to continue to run and totally ignore everything including the fact you want me.”

The muscle in his jaw ticked, his lips thinned as he closed his eyes. She waited, wondering if she’d gone too far, but she didn’t think so. She’d come apart against him, so what else did she have to hold back?

“I came to help with your father’s party,” he told her, focusing those mesmerizing eyes back on her. “I want to call a truce. We can’t keep going on like this and I can’t help you if we’re constantly fighting each other. I just . . . want to help.”

And then he went

and said things like this and she was a puddle of emotions. Damn it, this was why she found him so perfect. But he couldn’t be perfect, not for her anyway.

“You don’t have to help with Dad’s party.” She stepped away from his grip before she did something insane like grab him back—by his mouth. “I can handle it.”

“Really?” He turned now, raising a brow as if to call her bluff. Clearly she was amusing to him. “And what are you making?”

Macy shrugged. “No idea, but I don’t want you helping me out of guilt.”

“Oh, I feel guilty for letting things go too far last night and for how I treated you, but that’s not why I’m here.”

Liam turned, glanced around, and set off toward the back of her house. “Kitchen back here?” he called over his shoulder.

Seriously? Was he just going to come in and take over?

“You’re not staying here,” she demanded as she followed. Damn him. He had long strides. “I don’t want your help.”

Ignoring her, he started opening cabinets, moving down the line of her wall. He threw her a look, keeping the left side of his face tipped. “Of course you do. Unless you plan on serving your guests Pop-Tarts and microwave popcorn with an overdose of chemically enhanced butter.”

“Don’t barge into my house and start picking apart my delicacies.”

Liam snorted as he kept searching. The muttering under his breath would probably be offensive if she could hear him. Macy waited, wondering exactly what his plans were now that he was here. As much as she wanted to believe he wasn’t here out of guilt, she couldn’t help but feel his emotions over last night played some part. But she was in a bind. She wanted the best surprise party for her father, and if that meant she had to deal with the tension and chemistry with Liam, then she would.

Besides, watching Liam move around her house sent a jolt through her she hadn’t known she’d been missing. He looked good—too good. Those faded jeans hugging his narrow hips, that dark T-shirt stretched across his broad shoulders, and the wisps of hair that seemed to need trimming. The man exuded sex appeal . . . as if she needed more fuel for her inner fire.

Blowing out a frustrated sigh, Liam turned to face her and crossed his arms over his chest. “You need to go to the store.”

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