Page 75 of Because of Liam

Chapter Forty-Seven

When I walkedinto the kitchen this morning, in my purple undies with the unicorn on the front and a matching tank top, the last person I expected to see lying on my couch was Liam. In fact, I didn’t see him at all.

“I used your toothbrush. Hope you don’t mind.”

A little scream leaves my lips as I jump and turn around, my hand holding my chest where my heart is running a marathon. “Liam! You scared the hell out of me.”

A slow smile curves his lips and he stretches on the couch, his arms reaching over his head, his back arching, and then one arm folds under his head while his other hand scratches the five o’clock shadow on his face before it lowers into his bare chest and rests there. My eyes are transfixed on his body, and my mouth goes dry and then waters like I’m looking at the most delicious feast and somewhere in the back of my mind that annoying voice tells me I am. This time, I don’t tell it to shut up.

“How do you know it’s my toothbrush and not Skye’s?”

“Because I heard Skye tell Logan your favorite color is purple and since you were kids, you would only brush your teeth if you had a purple toothbrush.”

He smiles and that hand on his chest lowers a few more inches, stopping just above his belly button. He has an innie, I notice.

“And by what I can see right now, it is true,” he says. His eyes travel down my body and lazily came back up again until he meets my eyes.

I remember what I’m wearing but refuse to feel self-conscious about it. I already know he’s attracted to me and we haven’t lashed out at each other since the day we both broke down and made our confessions. And made out. And kissed. We still tease each other. It wouldn’t be us if we didn’t, but it no longer holds the edge of anger it once did.

And right now, I’m grateful for three things.

One, that I brushed my teeth before going in search of coffee.

Two, the fact I’d actually closed the bathroom door before going pee because the last thing I need is for Liam to see me sitting on the potty since it looks like he slept here last night.

And three, holy mother of all that is hot! Apparently, Liam likes to sleep in his boxer briefs and it’s morning. Have I mentioned that it’s morning? Yep, it’s morning, and he’s wearing tight black boxer briefs or maybe they’re tight because it’s morning and I’m also very grateful for six packs.

And morning wood.

My eyes keep jumping between his six pack and the tightness in his underwear and all that before I’ve had my coffee. That’s my excuse for why my eyes are stuck in the space between his stomach and his thighs. And also, why I forgot I’m nearly as undressed as he is.

“What are you doing here?” I ask.

“They were making too much noise.”

“What do you mean?”

“Your sister, my dear, is a screamer. I got tired of hearing them going at it, took her keys and came over late last night while you were sleeping. I spent the night on the couch.”

“Who knew Skye was a screamer? I would’ve never guessed. She must have been holding back when Logan is over here.” I muse.

“With the right guy, every woman is a screamer.”

My mouth opens and closes, but nothing comes out for a few seconds. Hell! Why is it everything he says sounds so sexy?

“I’ll take your word for it.”

“Ah, but we both know you’ll take so much more than my word, don’t we?”

Annnd I’m speechless again, but my eyes keep doing their thing, feasting on Liam’s body.

“Eyes up here, River.” He catches me and it takes me a few seconds to register what he’s saying and why he’s saying it.

When my eyes meet his, they’re dark with desire and my skin heats under his stare. I have such a girl boner for him and I don’t want to wait another minute. Not when I’ve fought this for months and denied myself for so long, and not when he’s nearly naked and those boxer briefs do nothing to hide the fact he’s just as aroused as I am, and especially not when every cell in my body is screaming with lust and they’re all yelling his name.

“River.” His voice is husky, sensual, and it vibrates in my core.

His chest rises and fills up with air, then releases, once, twice, three times. His strong legs move off the couch and his bare feet hit the hardwood floor. He stands with the grace of a cat—no. Not a cat. A cat is cute and cuddly—he makes me think of a panther. All danger and contained power. He takes a step toward me and then another. I bite my lip, anticipating the taste of his mouth on mine. I want to meet him halfway but instead hold my ground as he stalks his way to me.

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