His eyes rise from the bottle in his hand to mine. “I don’t think many people know me as well as you do.” He takes a deep breath and stands abruptly. “I’ll do the dishes.”
“I thought I was supposed to do them, remember for you staying over last night.” My eyes are trained on him, begging for some sort of reaction with the mention of Last. Freaking. Night.
“Nah, that’s okay. You’re a guest.”
Nothing. I want to growl and instead suggest cleaning together.
I put some music on my phone, and we start cleaning up. I rinse the dishes and Liam puts them in the dishwasher. We laugh at lame jokes and tease each other. As ever, we are having a great time together. That’s why when I expect the evening to go in one direction and realize he opts for a very different one, I’m left baffled and disappointed.
We’re sitting on the living room sofa, softer music in the background and when I inch closer, Liam gets to his feet. “I guess we should call it a night?”
What the . . . Not only did I expect to continue where we left off last night; this is how he wants to end our last time together before he leaves in two days for six freaking weeks? And as I stand there, blinking at him, he walks toward the door.
I’m too stunned to ask him why he’s being so weird. I grab my bag and follow him to the door, my brows set in pinched confusion. As I reach the open door, mind you, I lift my eyes to Liam and I’m surprised to find him looking nothing but tormented. I take a deep bitter breath of rejection and say, “Well, take care.” I rise to the balls of my feet and press a kiss somewhere in the vicinity of his jaw. I’m out the door followed by a murmured good-bye from him.
He closes the door behind me. Feeling like I’m about to collapse, I lean on the wall, looking up I ask whoever is up there for enlightenment as to what just happened. A sobering moment later, I decide that no! I’m not letting him get away with this bullshit. I take a breath of composure and lift my fist to the door. If I could describe this moment in three words, it would be: panic, panic, hope.
The door rips open with my hand still airborne; I didn’t even manage to knock and there’s Liam, his eyes determined on me. I take a hesitant step forward and gasp as two strong hands lift me in a way that makes me wrap my legs around his waist. My next breath is swallowed by his mouth. I drop my bag to the floor as Liam kick shuts the door behind us and pins me on it. The next few moments are consumed by unleashed desire. My hands are in his hair, his lips are nearly violent on mine. Whatever made him guarded earlier just exploded into . . . this. Glory hallelujah!
And then, without warning, he draws back, leaning his forehead to mine with labored breath. “Anna,” no one has ever said my name so deliciously hoarse. I bring my lips forward, aiming for his mouth. “Anna, love, we need to talk.”
No, he’s not doing this to me again. I shake my head and manage to plant my lips on his. I win, as I manage to rekindle the kiss. But not for too long.
He draws back again. “Anna, we need to talk before—”
Color tints my cheeks, a product of lust and frustration. “Damn it, Liam, don’t stop.” And he gives in. Lips back on mine, turning us both toward his bedroom.
About effing time.
I kick my shoes off and start removing his shirt. By the time we reach the bedroom’s threshold, Liam’s shirt is halfway up his back. He sets me down and sends his hand behind his back to pull it all the way off. Not wasting any time, I shrug my dress off and reach back to unfasten my bra. Following my lead, Liam opens his buttoned jeans with one swift tug. His pants drop to the floor. Only when I bend to take my panties off, does he follow.
The room is dimly lit, but we can still see each other clearly. We take a step forward to kiss, but again something about our synchronization is a bit off. We fumble a little, and there’s an awkward, lustful pause when we look at each other bare and vulnerable and then we smile and let out soft laughter.
When he inches toward me the skin along my body hums, and my heart can hardly handle the panic and excitement and this deep acheful need for this person’s touch. And then as though I’m too fragile to touch he leans in, touching my forehead softly with his lips. Then brushes his lips toward one corner of my mouth, hovering his lips over the length of mine he reaches the other side, kissing it gently. Then the tip of my nose. His eyes come down to mine. There’s so much in them, an expression I want to treasure. And then slowly, eyes gradually fluttering closed, his mouth seals on mine for the most exhilarating, most breath-taking kiss. A kiss that says so much more than words could ever reveal. No doubt, the boy wants me.
When Liam lays me on the bed everything slows with my breath. It’s so intense the air even halts in attention. And when he climbs above me, the feel of him, his weight, his skin, his warmth, I’m shivering with want. We kiss, and he eases back to look at me. I smile at him and his responding smile melts my heart.
“You’re so beautiful,” he says, and I never felt as beautiful the way he looks at me. I’m terrified and excited and, in a sense, feel like what’s happening is an augmented reality because nothing in this world has ever felt so perfectly honest, grounded, and real.
His mouth crawls to my jaw and lowers, leaving a velvety heat in its wake. He moves on to my neck, the base, leaving a kiss on my collarbone. He descends down my body, cherishing every slice of exposed skin. He kisses my breast and I gasp. He kisses a trail down to my navel, leisurely, and painstakingly. And lower, then he kisses me heatedly where I am pulsing for him and I arch my back and let out a cry.
He retraces his trail of kisses up my body to meet my lips. I miss his touch when he leaves me to get protection, sitting on the side of the bed. When he’s done, I straddle him. Liam looks at me, then softly asks, “Do you want to continue?”
I nod.
“Anna, we can stop at any point.”
Touched by his care and sensibility, I realize it’s not a tease or foreplay. He’s genuinely checking if I’m okay. When he guides himself into me, we both hold our breath and when I slide down on him, we let out a joined moan of relief. As I move above him, his hands hold my waist, helping me and we sway in a blissful rhythm. I kiss his lips and move on to the prickled area under his ear and I’m rewarded with his rich, deep sounds of pleasure. We inch closer to a tight embrace as he moves in me and it’s almost too much. Our foreheads touch, mouths hovering over one another, occasionally stealing a kiss. Light sweat covers our bodies as they glide along, skin to heated skin. Our pace hastes, matching our pants and the moans scattered into the room. I cry his name when I’m no longer in control of my body, heightened sensation washing over me of utter ecstasy. I climb so high with his name on my lips and melt onto him, my arms draped over his shoulders. He chases his own release, holding closer, kissing my neck. He stills, groaning into my skin. We stay in this sitting position, tangled in each other, catching our breaths. Neither of us make any attempt to separate. Slowly, Liam leans back with me on him till his back touches the mattress.
“I need to get rid of—” he says reluctantly.
I roll to the side, allowing him the space to stand. My eyes follow him till he disappears behind the bathroom door. I can hardly contain what I’m feeling. I’ve never felt this way with anyone before.