Page 50 of Hold

Liam:Fire away.

Thea:When you were in college, did you play Quidditch?

♦

On Sunday, Liam caught up with some old college friends who were in the campus fields for a pickup game of Quidditch. It was just the silly, intense, sweaty, complicated exercise he needed to take his mind off Thea. When the game ended, he walked back to his bag with the rest of his team, laughing and recalling bludger hits—Liam was a beater—and promising to do it all over again soon.

He drank the rest of his water and threw his broomstick in the back of his truck, thinking of nothing but how badly he needed a shower. Halfway to his house, his phone, buried in his bag, buzzed. Instantly, he reorganized his priorities. He pulled over and dug through the bag.

Four texts. “Goddammit,” he muttered. It would take too long to reply to them all; he would just call her.

“There you are,” she said. She sounded quiet.

“I’m sorry, I was playing—soccer.”

“Oh, okay. Well, if you’re not doing anything else today…”

“I’m not. Believe me, I’m not.”

“Then come over. I’ll make lunch.”

Honey, youarelunch, he wanted to say, but that would sound like he was only going to her house for one thing. Which he wasn’t. Was he?

Then he smelled himself. “Let me take a shower. I’ll be…” He calculated the time. Crap. “An hour.”

He shaved ten minutes off that time, though it meant he showed up almost completely empty-handed. Thea opened the door looking fresh and young and beautiful, her dark eyes huge and a shy smile on her face. “Hey,” she said.

He walked in and put his arm around her waist at once. “I just want you to know,” he said, lifting her up so her legs automatically went around his waist. “This isnota booty call.” And he kissed her.

♦

She didn’t care what it was. She’d spent three days in delicious and terrified anticipation of what would happen when she finally broke her own embargo, and now he was here, and his hands were under her butt, his strong arms easily holding her so her head was above his so she could delve deep into his mouth, holding his head to maneuver the kiss however she liked.

Liam lifted his head and looked at her. His eyes were a clear, uncomplicated blue against the tan of his skin. This close, she could see the few freckles that dusted his nose and cheeks and count every one of the hairs in his beard.

He was hesitating, the beautiful, sweet man. She brushed her lips across his as he’d done to her neck, before taking them in a kiss he was happy to lean into, his face filling her vision. His beard was soft and held a very faint scent of whatever it was he put on it.

Warmth and a sense of the end of a long wait went into her side of the kiss, feeling his rough, wavy hair under her hand, the smoothness of his lips next to the hair of his beard, his hands holding her firm while he moved his lips over hers. It was so right, she couldn’t believe how long she’d waited to do this.

He raised his head at last, just a little. He lowered her until her feet touched the ground. One hand cradled her head; the other hand flattened out over her collarbone. He smiled as if Christmas had come again. “I’m crazy about you, T,” he murmured.

She blinked tears out of her eyes before she’d even realized she was crying. “What are those for?” he asked, gently wiping them from under her eyes.

She shook her head a second time. “Just happy,” she said, beaming it back to him.

Liam picked her up like she weighed nothing and placed her gently on the couch cushions, making sure she was comfortable and no clothes were twisted under her before kissing her again.

Thea pulled him down on top of her, the weight of him making her laugh and groan.

“Too heavy?” he said, immediately getting up onto his elbows.

“No.” She got both her arms around his chest and pulled him close. “No,” she breathed again. “Never.”

He’d given her so much these last few weeks. She was happy to take all his weight.

He backed up long enough to put a hand on her waist, spanning it and slowly lifting her T-shirt, watching her eyes the entire time, until he was cupping one breast and Thea shivered, closed her eyes, and arched her back toward him. He slid her bra to one side and took her nipple into his mouth. Thea cried out. The contrast of his cool, wet tongue and the abrasion of his beard set her blood on fire.

She’d waited long enough. Before he could pay any attention to her other breast, she had his zipper undone and was awkwardly shoving his jeans and shorts down his legs. “Thea.” He laughed, struggling to help her but with his hand tangled in her shirt. “Wait, I want to—”

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