Liam
Traffic’s light on the Kennedy, but the drive home is long enough for us to sober up. Long enough to notice there’s a tension in the back of this car that shouldn’t be here.
I shouldn’t have kissed her that last time. Who am I kidding? I shouldn’t have kissed her at all.
Not beyond the cursory closed-mouthed business that absolutely would have gotten the job done.
But no. I had to make it fun.
Try to impress her.
Add some flair.
Push the boundaries.
Tease my way back into the sweet lushness of her mouth and the taste that’s haunted me for a year.
Great idea, asshole.
Now I’m doing everything not to stare at the smooth length of her neck, trying to forget the way her pulse quickened under my touch. The way she melted into me.
And she’s trying not to notice the way I’m fucking failing.
When we get back to the building, I help her out of the car and walk her through the lobby to the elevator. We ride up to our floor and the apartment I’ve always used as a retreat but now offers no escape.
“You want a water?” She reaches to the overhead cabinet for a glass.
Even the lower shelves are a stretch for her.
“Let me get that.” I step in, resting a hand at her hip as I reach over her. Only I’m not thinking about the way I’ve moved into her space until our bodies have overlapped and all the soft and womanly and warm I’ve been trying to shake from my awareness is right there.
The contact makes me suck a breath through my nose.
Mistake.
Because the air is infused with her. I can smell her in the shower, naked with suds slipping over her dips and curves. I can smell her getting dressed, dragging the stopper of her perfume over her pulse points. Behind her ears. Between her breasts.
I can smell her skin in the morning and that addictive scent that’s just her.
She turns, looking over her shoulder to where I’m watching her. And damn, those eyes. They’re vulnerable and questioning. Searching in a way I know better than to allow.
Retrieving the glass, I fill it from the tap and hand it off to her before retreating to the closet we share for appearances.
I yank my tie loose and shoulder out of my jacket. Toss it aside to start on my cuffs with jerky motions.
I feel her behind me before I see her reflection. Those questioning eyes meeting mine in the mirrored wall before I break the contact, focusing on the buttons of my shirt like it’s my first time using them.
“Ignore me. I'm having a hard time putting the lid back on the box tonight. I’ll be fine tomorrow.”
She nods, coming in the rest of the way, a wry smile on her lips. “The cost of all that quality kissing.”
Without turning around, she stops in front of me and gathers her hair over one shoulder. “Help?”
The last thing I need is to get my hands on her delicate shoulders. But it’s not like a single stubborn clasp is going to make this any worse.
I need to get a grip. Get through the rest of tonight and start with a clean slate tomorrow.
Simple.
Except that once I make contact with the smooth skin at the back of her neck and free that tiny button and hook, my fingers take on a fucking mind of their own. Smoothing over her shoulders and slipping beneath the wide straps of her dress.
Her breath catches and, Christ, I know I need to let her go. Turn around and get out of here. But instead, I let my head drop forward so my mouth brushes the top of her pretty ear.
“Remind me of all the reasons why we decided this was a bad idea.”
I need her to tell me to stop. To remind me that at least she hasn’t forgotten why this is a mistake.
But that’s not what she’s doing. She’s tilting her head, giving me more of her neck, and I can’t resist running my jaw over that perfect slope.
My knuckles skate down her bare arms, my fingers tangling with hers.
She takes an unsteady breath. “We didn’t want anyone getting the wrong idea about what this is or where it’s going.”
Because it can’t go anywhere real. We care about and respect each other, but I don’t want a real marriage. And if she ever decides she does, she deserves better than me.
I pick up the thread. “Too easy to let emotions get tangled up when things get physical.”
“If there’s any miscommunication. Yes. But…”
“But?” My hands close around her upper arms.
“If there wasn't any miscommunication…”
I know better. I do. “If we both know exactly where we stand.” I close the distance between us. “And where we’re going.” My front to her back like at the country club. Except nothing like that.
At the party, we were playing. Winding each other up. Teasing and tempting.
Now?
I’m breathing like I just got off the ice. And Stormy? Christ, I can feel her trembling.
I press my brow to the back of her head. “Say it.”
“In two years we’re done.”
I spin her around. “Over.”
She nods. Wets her bottom lip and meets my eyes. “Completely.”
“Legally.”
Her hands find their way between us and coast over my pecs. “This—”
“—it’s just—”
“—sex.”
Fuuuck, she said it.
That word, barely a breath on her lips, is the match strike to my restraint.
Stormy
There’s a quiet alarm sounding in my mind over the extreme relief washing through me with every greedy pull of his mouth.
We can’t keep doing this. We shouldn’t. Except then I’m opening wider beneath the hot crush of his kiss, moaning around the thrust of his tongue, and savoring his answering groan.
“Just tonight.” I tell myself more than him. Because this is a physical thing. The culmination of too much teasing and fun at the party. A low, simmering attraction that last kiss pushed to a boil. That’s all. “Then tomorrow we put it behind us. For good. Go back to being… whatever it is we are.”
Serious eyes meet mine. “We’re there for each other.”
My heart takes a heavy beat. “Yeah. We are.”
He nods. “Always.” And then he gathers my hair, wrapping it in his fist— oh God, yes —and uses it to pull my head back, giving him unfettered access to my mouth and neck.
He plunders the first and, teeth scraping, groans against the second.
That sound.
My body clenches in response, the need within me turning liquid and hot.
Demanding.
We pull at each other’s clothes, fumbling and desperate until my dress is in a heap on the floor, topped with my bra and panties. Somehow, I get Liam’s shirt off but not his tie. His belt, but his open pants still hang dangerously low on his hips.
God, he’s gorgeous, and a part of me just wants to look my fill. But we’re too caught up, too hungry.
Those big, rough hands catch me by the thighs and then I’m up, wrapped around him as my back meets an uneven wall of custom suits. Hangers clatter against the hutch, some falling, others pinned in place as he rocks into me.
Hard meets soft and wet through the thin layer of his boxer briefs, and our breaths shudder out on matching groans.
We move like that, grinding against each other, mouths open, touching, the air passing in shuddering breaths from one to the other and back, until—
“Need you,” I urge, tucking my heel against his thigh to draw him in again.
So good.
One more rock like that and then the arm wrapped around me tightens along with the hand at my hip as he pulls me up with him.
“Condom,” he growls against my mouth, dipping his tongue in for another taste as he walks us out to his room.
Only when we bypass the bed, it’s me pulling away. “Are we going to the 7-Eleven to get some?”
He lets out a gruff breath, a laugh.
“Bathroom. Figured it’d be kind of a dick move to keep them in the nightstand.”
I nod but then shake my head. He stops. “What? We can stop. If you’ve changed your mind.”
“No. No. I just— I haven’t been with anyone else. And before that, it was over a year. I get the shot, and I’ve been tested.” Twice. Because of Ray. I wanted to make sure.
His eyes are dark, intense. “I’m tested because of the team. I’m clean… and I haven’t been with anyone since before we met.”
Wait— “What?”
But then my shoulders meet the wall beside the bathroom door as he rocks against me, hitting that needy spot again.
Okay, questions later.
“Want you,” he groans, reaching between us to free his erection.
The head is dark and wide, the tip glistening with a bead of moisture that makes me clench with need.
I brush the moisture with my thumb, and with Liam’s eyes burning over me, bring it to my mouth to lick.
That’s it.
He shifts, and then he’s at my opening, his thick head nudging at the point of give. Teasing in and out with each breath. I try to squirm, but he’s got me exactly where he wants me.
“You sure about this, gorgeous?”
“Yes. Please. Now.”
He rocks into me again, this time giving me his full length in one long thrust that fills me so completely, it pushes the air from my lungs in a burst.
“Like that?”
I nod, lips parted. I’m beyond words. Welcoming the achy fullness inside me. That sensual strain that has me clenching in rhythmic pulses around him.
“You feel so fucking good.” His mouth descends on mine again, his tongue licking deep as he thrusts between my legs. Easing out as he pulls back. “Taste so good.”
Doing it again and again as I gasp and beg for more.
Yes.
There.
More.
Please, please, please…
“Can feel you… getting close.” His fingers tighten at my ass, his thrusts becoming more punctuated. “Give it to me.”
That guttural demand, coupled with the achy pressure of him bottoming out within me does it. The tension snaps, a cry escaping as an orgasm grips my core, wringing wave after wave of pleasure, so intense all I can do is cling to Liam, letting him carry me through before he starts to move in earnest himself.
His hips drive faster, harder. His breath comes hot at my ear. “Need you.”
His fingers tighten all the more. And when he buries his face in my neck and groans my name… it sends me over the edge again with him.