Page 24 of Ward Willing
“In for ten, out for ten,” he commands. I do as he says, taking steadying, deep breaths.
Ten seconds in, ten seconds out.
We stand there for a few more minutes as time slows. “The generator should kick everything back on soon,” he mutters after I’m calmer, his voice hoarse against my head.
“You have a generator?” I ask, voice thick. There have been a couple of bad storms since I moved in with him, but he wasn’t usually home when they did occur… so I weathered them alone.
“Of course. I know you don’t like storms.”
“But—”
“I don’t like them either. Not anymore.”
The weight of his comforting words reverberates through me, and I squeeze my eyes shut as I squeeze him tighter.
Fortunately, Southern California is not prone to storms, so this panic is not something I have to deal with a lot. I know it’s psychosomatic. I know the fear of being caught in a storm like my parents were makes sense psychologically.
Still… when it happens, it shakes me to my core.
And though Liam hardly ever comes to my bedroom door, he sought me out tonight.
Because he knows how much they scare me.
That thought alone has me squeezing him tighter. Breathing in his familiar scent, his warm, solid body against mine… it’s an instant dopamine hit.
“Can’t…breathe.” He gasps dramatically, a hint of humor in his voice.
I instantly pull away, feeling better now that he’s here. My pulse has slowed from breakneck to rapid, and my hands have stopped shaking for the most part.
When I lift my eyes to his bare abdomen, there’s not enough light to truly appreciate the view. He must’ve dropped the flashlight to the floor in a rush to get to me.
And that thought has me all sorts of confused and flustered.
“I was kidding,” he says, crooking a smile. “You didn’t have to pull away, little rebel.”
Little rebel.My nickname from years ago. I can’t remember why he gave me that nickname.
His voice from the night in Catalina floats through my memories.
You taste so fucking good, little rebel.
“I’m not a kid anymore. You can drop the nickname.” My voice is shakier than I intend, but the adrenaline from the storm, the hug, his voice and smile, and that nickname… it makes me unsettled in the best way.
Every time I hear him use it, I remember that night and the roughness of his voice as he made me come three times in a row. It’s something I’ve still never been able to accomplish with anyone else.
He opens his mouth to reply, but the power comes back on, bathing the room in a soft glow. I hear my computer beep behind me, and as my eyes slide to Liam, I can’t help but let my eyes peruse down his bare abdomen.
He’s wearing green and black checkered pajama pants with no shirt. When he bends down to grab the flashlight, I have to look away because I know I’m blushing.
“Still doing homework?” he asks, walking over to my computer before I can stop him.
“No, it’s not?—”
My cheeks burn as the screen flares to life, the white Word document clear as day on the large desktop. I leap over to the computer and hit the sleep button. Thelastthing I need is Liam, theaward-winningauthor, to know that I’m writing a silly romance book. But when our eyes meet again, his lips are curved upward and his eyes narrow enough to let me know that he saw something incriminating.
“Are you writing something?” he asks carefully.
I shrug, trying to contain my blush. “Not really. It’s nothing. Just a stupid thing I do when I’m bored or can’t sleep.”
