“I’m scared as shit right now. Give me a little grace, please?”
“Grace given.” The way he looks into my eyes makes my heart bang away inside my chest. Whoever snags him is going to be a very lucky girl.
“Wait a second.” I lean away from him. Or as much as I can, considering he hasn’t released the grip he has on my hips.
“What now?” This time, Liam blows out a frustrated breath. I’m definitely getting on his nerves.
It feels like we’re rushing the whole getting to know you thing. Which is hysterical, considering that’s exactly what we’re doing. I need more of a warmup before we move full steam ahead.
So, I do what I do best.
I stall.
“You’re not married, are you?” I have to tilt my head back to look at his face. He’s easily a foot taller than me. “Engaged? Dating?”
“No. Why?”
“Because I don’t kiss someone who belongs to someone else.”
“I’m free and single. Last man standing.”
“What does that mean?”
“Only that all the other guys on my team are no longer on the market.” The way he says it sounds wistful, almost as if he lost something precious to him.
He misses hanging out with his friends. It’s a tiny peek behind the curtain, revealing more than he realizes. Definitely more than he wants me to know. I play it off, pretending I didn’t catch everything he meant with those words.
“Okay … Hands on your shoulders.” I place my hands stiffly on his shoulders. It’s more like awkwardly bracing my hands on his broad shoulders.
Nibbling my lower lip, I wriggle my toes, unsure what to do next. This feels awkward.
“Not like that.” Liam grabs my wrists, lifts my hands off his shoulders, and loops them around his neck.
Because of his height, I’m forced to lean against him. It’s intimate. Far more than I’m comfortable with. He’s so tall, there’s no space between us at all.
While I stretch, trying to reach around his neck, Liam places his hands on my waist. His fingers wrap around to splay against the small of my back.
Our bodies press tight against each other from shoulder to shoulder and hip to hip. My breasts squish against his chest, soft to his hard.
He steals my breath and makes me sway on legs suddenly weaker than they were moments before.
I’m exceptionally uncomfortable. That feeling radiates throughout my entire body as I lock my knees and try to breathe without expanding my chest any more than I have to.
I’m acutely aware of my breasts and how they’re completely pressed against his chest. Each breath only accentuates my discomfort.
“Close your eyes.” His voice softens, which makes that weakness in my knees ten times worse.
Instead of stiff legs, I stand on noodle legs now.
“Why?”
My entire body is on high alert, exquisitely sensitive to every sensation. From the delicious timbre of his voice to his incredibly unique scent, he drowns me in sensation.
“Because I said so.” There goes that husky laugh again. It rumbles around inside my chest, vibrating within me. “You really don’t know how to trust, do you?”
“I guess not.” I blow out a breath and can’t help but grin.
I don’t trust myself around Liam.
His thumbs dig in at my waist while his fingers slide down over the curve of my ass.
Holding firm, he rotates his hips back and forth, then side to side, making a figure-eight motion. I have no choice but to follow because his hands act like clamps fixing my hips to his.
The man has moves, and he’s good. He’s good enough to compensate for the stiffness in my body.
It’s almost as if we’re dancing.
“Try not to resist my movements.”
“I’m a horrible dancer.”
“You’re going to be the death of me, princess.” His low throaty chuckle is like liquid warmth spreading through me. It’s the only reason I let the princess comment go.
His hips swirl in a figure eight, taking me with him. If I let him guide me, I follow just fine. If I try and think about following his movements, I get in my own way. It’s harder than it looks.
“If I step on your toes, sorry in advance.” My voice shakes like every other part of me.
I can do this.
Since I’m plastered against his broad chest, his rumbly laughter settles beneath my ribcage.
Liam is not a threat.
Maybe if I repeat that over and over, I’ll believe it.
There’s zero reason not to trust him, and about a million reasons why not trusting him is a really bad idea.
His hands move from my waist to settle on my hips. “Lift up on tiptoe and kiss me.”
“Kiss you?” My eyes widen with surprise. When he presses the pad of his finger over my lips, my brows bunch together, confused.
“If you can’t do that when no one is around,” he says. “How are you going to do it when we’re being watched? And trust me, we will be watched.”
“This is impossible.”
“It’s just a kiss.”
I’m going to blow it.
Frustrated, my fists clench and I squeeze my eyes shut. Liam removes his fingers from my lips, leaving an emptiness there.
My lids fly open, however, when the sudden heat of his lips touch mine. It’s a light, barely perceptible sensation. My knees buckle and he holds me tight as a shiver races down my spine.
Gasping, I pull back, but then something happens. My heart pounds like thunder and that low fire burning deep within me explodes outward in a rush of heat. His lips feel good on mine. I suddenly want more.
I lift up on tiptoe and press my lips against his.
Suddenly, I feel him everywhere, every place our bodies touch, my nerve endings wake up, craving more of the delicious sensation.
His palm slides up my back, a magical caress along my spine that sends waves of pleasure pulsing through my body. The stiffness in my body melts away as the magic of his fingers kneads my flesh.
Instead of pulling away, I’m captivated and entranced. His touch continues dancing up and down my spine, commanding my muscles to relax, igniting my skin in a rush of heat, and lighting my nerves up like the Fourth of July.
This is dangerous.
Liam is dangerous.
Much more of this and he’ll turn me into an addict, with him being the drug I crave.
We just met, and yet he already knows exactly how to touch me, when to stroke me, and how to command my body to bend to his will.
Or maybe, he’s just a really good kisser and it has nothing to do with me?
I’m terrified, but not enough to want any of this to stop. With the magic of his fingers wrecking my self-control, a contented sigh slips out of me.
I’ve never felt a kiss this tender.
A kiss this relentless.
A kiss that devastates and devours while promising to protect and shelter. My blood heats as his firm lips slide against mine.
With a diabolical sweep of his tongue, he parts my lips and lays claim to my mouth.
He tastes like he smells: dark, tantalizing, and deliciously male. The determined assault on my mouth sends sparks of electricity racing down my spine. My insides twist and heat as his greedy mouth takes and claims. I cling to him, wanting more, yet unable to voice my desires beneath the overload of stimulation.