Page 35 of Mostly Loathing You

“Now what?” My voice comes out breathier than I intend, eliciting a borderline cocky grin from him. I want to smack it off his face and taste it in equal measure.

“Salt.”

This returns me to reality, but no matter how many times I urge myself to put on the brakes, I can’t figure out a way to verbalize it.

“Okay.”

Liam leans forward, his lips centimeters from my ear. At first I think he is going to say something, but the moment he extends his tongue and swipes it across the flesh below my ear, I gasp. He reaches over to the table and pulls the salt shaker from the center basket, sprinkling it over my now-damp skin.

The lump in my throat makes it nearly impossible to say anything, so I stand there entranced by him. I plead with the universe that he can’t tell I’m essentially a ball of putty in his hands.

“Lime,” he commands as he holds the lime wedge against my bottom lip, forcing me to yield to his demand. I allow the piece of fruit to rest between my lips, all of it so completely at odds with our normal interactions.

“If I’d known this would make you so agreeable, I would’ve tried it ages ago.”

My jaw drops, allowing the wedge to drop from my lips.He’s prepared for this and catches it in his hand without a second of hesitation.

“Hannah, it’s called a joke. Now open.”

I don’t know what this foreign hold is that he has over me, but I part my lips without so much as a second of resistance despite being irritated seconds ago.

“Good girl.” This sends tingles down my spine, but I refuse to unpack that right now. “Are you ready?”

All I can manage to do in my current predicament is nod.

He steps into me, invading my space with his body pressed against my own. My mouth waters at his proximity. The moment I swallow, I feel his tongue dart out against the salted expanse on my neck, licking upward at a languid pace. He lingers there for longer than makes sense, but the longer he does it, the more out of touch with reality I become.

Liam’s face dips downward, his stubble from the weekend scratching against my breast as he wraps his mouth around the glass. His lips graze my flesh, heat shooting straight to my core, and I have to bite back the whimper that attempts to crawl up my throat.

He tilts his head back to allow the fiery liquid to hit the back of his throat, causing quite possibly the most vulgar and entrancing view as he swallows, his Adam’s apple bobbing in the process. Once he sets the shot glass down on the table next to us, he’s ascending toward the lime—the lime that’s in my mouth.

Suddenly, it’s as if we’re in slow motion. As he approaches me, I can count every second, every freckle, every look as he encroaches on my space.

His lips graze mine as he grasps the lime between his lips, his tongue gliding over my bottom lip.

It’s intoxicating.

He sucks the lime while it’s still between my lips. At some point I drop the lime, but his lips remain a whisper from my own. Our staggered breaths create a medley between us.

I suddenly find myself internally pleading for him to step closer; to allow himself a moment of weakness; to allow his mouth to linger, sans lime this time.

“Liam,” I whisper, but it comes out as a breathy moan.

This sets something off inside him and he steps forward, pressing his entire body against mine. His hands find my hips as he pins me in place, not giving me a moment of reprieve before his lips crash into my own, the fiery taste of liquor mixing with the taste of peppermint on his tongue as he pries my lips open.

It’s not tepid; it’s a full-on blaze consuming me in one fell swoop.

As if of their own volition, my hands creep upward, wrapping around the back of his neck to pull him closer to me, as if that’s even possible.

We linger like this for a while—how long, I can’t be entirely sure.

He’s intoxicating in the way that speeding down an abandoned country road brings a rush. It’s invigorating because it could very well kill you in the process. Safety seldom makes you feel alive.

I’d be content going out that way, I think.

“Hannah,” he whispers, pulling from my grasp, his lips still against mine.

“Hm?”

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