Dodging the advances of Liam is an exhausting way to live. He’s relentless, taking every opportunity he can to touch, tease, and tantalize. From intruding on me in the shower to melting my heart with the way he takes care of me—like cooking dinner each night while I enjoy a glass of wine—he whittles away at my will.
But never my conscience, and never my memories of another man.
“A storm’s coming,” he says, his attention veering over my shoulder.
I turn in time to spot a streak of lightning in the distance through the window. Ominous clouds hug the horizon, growing more sinister by the second.
I hate storms. Not because they scare me, or even for the destruction they cause, but I’ve always felt at odds when thunder rumbles under the soles of my feet. It’s the type of disruption felt deep in the marrow—an unnerving sensation that brings my vulnerabilities to the forefront.
The wind picks up as the booming grows louder, coming closer with each flash of light in the sky.
I pick at my chicken salad, appetite gone now that the air has changed. There’s an endless charge between us that has nothing to do with the approaching storm. No, the tension spiraling out of control has everything to do with the days passing by on the calendar.
The uncertainty is killing me.
“Will you take me back at the end of the week?”
He sets his fork down. “You want to go back that badly?”
“I don’t like being in limbo,” I hedge.
“Then don’t be in limbo.” He crosses his arms. “Let your guard down and give us both what we want.”
“Liam,” I say thickly, pressing my thighs together. “Giving in isn’t going to change how I feel. It’ll only cause more pain.” Being with him would be an unforgivable betrayal—one I’d despise myself for.
Thunder sounds overhead, making me jump.
“I’ve been more than patient.” He pushes his plate away and taps his fingers on the table. “I could have forced you at any point during these last several weeks, but I didn’t. Not on the ship, not in the lagoon.” His eyes pierce me from across the table. “Not while sleeping in bed next to you every night, an arm’s length away.”
I bite my lip. “I know it hasn’t been easy for you.”
“It hasn’t been easy for you either. You want us both, but the guilt is chewing you raw.” He frowns. “If I were a better man, I wouldn’t push you.”
“You are a good man.”
He arches a brow. “I told you I’m not, but you refuse to believe me.”
“You’re better than you think. You have a selfless streak in you, Liam.”
“What if I’m tired of being good? Maybe I want to be selfish.” With a thick swallow, he pauses a beat. “I want to strip away your clothing and your fucking inhibitions. If I were less of a man, I’d bend you over this table and fuck you until you forget his name.”
I grip the table’s edge, my heart thudding in my chest. “You can’t say things like that to me.”
“Why not?” His satisfied smile borders on cruel. “Does it get you wet, my sweet girl, hearing what I want to do to you?”
Jumping to my feet, I push the chair back, the legs scraping across the floor, and open my mouth to issue another useless protest. Before I get a word out, an ear-splitting rumble shakes the ground.
“Saved by the thunder,” he says, irritation soaking his words. He stands, drawn features cast in shadow from the sun’s exit. “Guess we’ll take it as a sign to shelve this conversation for another day.”
“No,” I say, folding my arms. “Let’s air this out now.”
What am I doing? Why am I prodding him when we’re both struggling to keep our cool under heightened senses? I’m begging for trouble, but as he rounds the table, I can’t bring myself to back down.
“Let’s air it out, then.” He invades my space without touching me. “What do you want from me?”
His simple, straightforward question catches me off-guard, and I regurgitate my favorite vague cop-out. “I don’t know.”
“Bullshit. You do know. You’re just too much of a coward to admit it.”
I shake my head, denying, though the lie won’t leave my mouth. He dips his head, dark eyes searching my face, and suddenly, I’m fixated on his lips. Awareness sizzles in the space between us, crackling stronger than the storm.
“If you’re going to kiss me,” he says, his breaths soughing louder than the thunder, “be sure you mean it, because once I taste you, there isn’t a damn thing in this universe that will stop me.”
He won’t stop.
A shudder travels down my legs, making me slump against him. I clutch his shirt as he wraps his arms around me, keeping me steady, protected, warm. I try to convince myself the shudder was one of dread and not a delicious thrill of excitement at the thought of his mouth on me.
But I can’t.
Surrender is the only path forward, just like my defeat in our last game of chess on the beach.
That was days ago, but suddenly, it feels like hours.
And my resistance is gone.
Licking my lips, I lift my face to his. “Kiss me.”
A moment passes, and then he lets out a shaky exhale. Cradling my cheeks, he brings his mouth down on mine, his lips unmoving—a bold test of my willpower.
I said the words, but it’s not enough for him. He wants me to make the first move, to be sure. To want him without reservation. It’s the only logical explanation for his lack of take-control authority. The Liam Castle I know wouldn’t wait for me to give him what he wants.
He’d take it.
But he’s not taking it, and I’m ashamed to discover that I desperately want him to. If he pushed just a little harder, maybe it would assuage the guilt.
“Please.” I part my mouth under his patient lips, and a small sigh escapes. A whimpering plea.
“Say it again,” he demands.
“Please, Liam. Kiss me.”
With a groan, he lifts me onto the table and settles between my knees. “You’re sure?”
I grab a fistful of his shirt and pull, needing his lips closer. “As sure as I can be.”
“What if a kiss isn’t enough for me?”
Heat flares on my cheeks, spreading swiftly down my neck. I avert my gaze, flailing on the border between fight and flight. “What do you want?”
His hand settles on my thigh, fingers teasing under the hem of my dress. “I want to feel your little virgin pussy.” Quickening breaths fan over my bare shoulder, and then his mouth stalls at my ear. “Hot, tight, and silky wet, Novalee—like a fucking glove made for my fingers.”
Another delicious shudder tears through my limbs. With a near-silent groan, I tighten my thighs around his waist, my toes curling with desperate, aching need. I can’t speak, can hardly breathe. Every nerve ending comes alive at the sound of his gruff tone.
He squeezes my flesh. “Do you want it, my sweet girl?”
God help me, I do. Conscious thought shatters as I lean back on my elbows, and the splay of my thighs invites him to turn words into reality. His hand disappears under my skirt, slips beneath the edge of my panties, and those warm, deft fingers thrust into me.
The fit is snug, his technique experienced, and he wastes no time in making me cry out a litany of pleas for more. Riding his hand, I moan his name.
“Damn, that’s the sexiest thing I’ve ever heard.” He pushes forward until the barrier of my innocence halts those fingers. Innocence in name only, because I’m wanton and without shame, spread out on the table as he plunges his fingers into me over and over again.
“God, Novalee,” he breathes. “I need you.” Lowering his head, he scrapes his teeth over my right nipple through thin, soft cotton. “Let me be the one to love you.” He adds another finger, gifting an exquisite sensation of fullness I’ve never experienced there before.
As if he’s close to breaking through to make way for his cock.
As if he’s close to breaking down the last vestiges of my resistance.
“Liam, please…I can’t.” I shake my head, unable to verbalize the war going on in my mind.
His sigh is one of frustration as he withdraws his fingers.
Immediately regretful, I lurch upright. “Don’t stop.”
“Your body doesn’t want me to, but your head is still saying something else.” He crosses his arms. “Besides, I think it’s my turn this time.”
Intense arousal clouds my thoughts, making it difficult to latch on to what he’s saying. “Don’t leave me like this.”
“You need to earn it.”
“W-what?” I mutter. “Why?”
“You stole my heart then gave yours to someone else.” Stepping back, he nods toward the floor. “On your knees.” When I don’t immediately move, he pulls me up by the arms. “Down, right now.”
His authoritative tone makes my knees buckle. I lift my chin, and my gaze is eye-level with his confident hands as he reaches for the zipper of his pants. He takes out his cock before rubbing his thumb across my parted lips, leaving my scent in his wake.
“This pretty little mouth is going to take every inch,” he rasps, eyes locking with mine as he gathers my thick hair into one hand. There’s nothing careful or respectful about the way he fists the base of his massive erection and guides the tip between my lips.
His pace is slow at first, shallow as he pushes the plump head against my tongue. A gentle thrust brings him deeper, his grip on my hair pulling my lips down his impressive length.
He sucks in a breath. “God, I’ve missed your mouth.” Pushing even deeper, his hold is absolute, the need to conquer and punish urging him on. His possessive nature drives him, the unstoppable force of dominance boiling in his blood. But underneath his thirst for power, I sense something else.
Something far more dangerous.
He’s incapable of holding himself back, the last few weeks pushing him to the brink of indecency. I held out too long, my ripped and indecisive heart brewing a storm in him.
“Sweetest hell,” he groans, flinging his head back. “You suck me so damned good. Every inch, my sweet, precious girl.”
Growing delirious and dizzy, I brace myself against his thighs as he pushes past my tonsils. His stamina is an endless vow, an endowing gift, an empowering display of a vulnerable man. He has me right where he wants me, uncontrollably gagging as my knees dig into the floor, but his throaty moans give me all the power—a fact detected in the frustrated, unstoppable shout escaping him as he takes his pleasure and his vengeance.
It’s deja vu, and in that moment, on my knees with my mouth used and abused, I realize we’ve come full circle. Only I’m not innocent like I was the first time, because an intact hymen is just a technicality.
This man is the master thief of my innocence all over again.
In the aftermath, he slips from my mouth before hauling me into his arms and drawing me into a tender kiss. The strokes of his tongue are as gentle as his cock was vengeful, as unhurried as his thrusts were desperate.
But no less earth shattering.
Long minutes pass before he inches back. “Thank you,” he whispers.
“For what?”
“For realizing the truth.”
“What are you talking about?”
“I’m talking about the way you love me,” he says, pushing his thumb between my lips. “From your mouth to your conscionable heart.”
Another piece of the treacherous organ in my chest cracks. “This isn’t fair to any of us.”
“Shhh.” He presses a finger against my mouth. “Lock up the guilt and regrets for the night.”
“And what about tomorrow?”
“By morning, you won’t be coherent enough to feel anything but satisfied.”
“Liam—”
Cutting off my response, he flings me over his shoulder and heads down the hall.