Chapter 24
Roxy
Idon’t know who pounces first, but when our mouths fuse, everything else ceases to exist.
The kiss isn’t gentle. That wouldn’t be us. Just like the past tumultuous hours, the kiss is demanding. Fighting. Dismantling.
Liam slides his hands under my butt and lifts me with ease. I wrap my legs around his waist and put my hands in his hair.
“You need to rest,” he rasps, but he doesn’t stop.
His lips trail down my jaw, down my neck. Throwing my head back, I give him better access. “I need to feel. I need to stop thinking. You owe me that.”
“But—”
“I swear to God, Liam, take me to bed right now.”
He pulls away, studying me, probably deciding between careful and reckless. Between what we want and what we need.
I snake my hand between us and cup his cock. He played dirty. I’m only speaking his language.
“Roxy,” he groans. But his control snaps, and he carries me to the bedroom.
I’m mad with lust, but I don’t want this to turn into something it’s not. “You’re not forgiven.”
“I know.” He lowers me onto the bed.
“We still need to talk.” I scoot up, the robe falling open.
“We do.”
He stands there watching me. Not moving. Just eating me with that intense look of his that makes me quiver.
“I need your cock.” I slide my arms free from the sleeves.
I lick my lips, fighting the urge to squirm under his scrutiny. This is not the first time we’re going to have sex.
But so many things have changed, and this feels like the first time. Because he is not the same Liam.
An enemy I found release and fun with.
He’s not that same man, in light of everything that’s transpired. He played me. He used me. He kept things from me.
But he was so much more before. With his care. His respect. His support.
And he’s the father of my child. That binds us forever, whether I like it or not.
His gaze holds me prisoner as he climbs up to join me. With his knees, he nudges my legs wider. I’m about to push up to sit so I can pull him to me, but he stops me, wrapping his hands around my wrists.
He lifts my arms above my head as he lowers himself, hovering above my body. Swallowing me whole.
“You need my cock, Little Thunder?” he challenges.
“I said I do.” My chest heaves.
“Then use me. Use my cock, my tongue, my hands. Use my body. It’s yours. But regardless of where we stand, and how you feel at the moment, it’s my name you’ll be screaming. Don’t forget that.”
“It doesn’t mean I’m yours,” I rasp, but I’m not sure if that’s the complete truth.
He kisses me. Deeply. But briefly.
“Sadly.” He accepts my conditions. It shouldn’t feel like a loss.
“Nobody can own thunder, remember?” My voice cracks, stealing the force behind my jab.
I hate him for what he’s done. For how he’s complicated everything. But most of all, I hate him for staying.
For refusing to leave. Because I can’t fight him. I don’t want to. I must.
He stares at me. Completely pinned down under him, swallowed by his weight, his scent, his body, I fight the urge to recoil.
To cower from his intensity. From his truth. From his vulnerability.
This man sees me. Truly sees me like no one else does. It scares me.
I don’t understand the war behind his eyes, but I know I’m at the center.
“Nobody can own thunder,” he echoes, and he pushes up, sitting on his haunches.
A shiver rakes through me at the loss. His face changes. From a wounded warrior to a predator. I know that look. I love that look.
“Off,” he commands, gesturing at my underwear. “Now.”
Jesus. I scramble to slide my panties down.
“Spread your legs.” He snatches the thong and puts them to his nose, inhaling. “Show me how wet you are for me!”
The change in the energy. Whiplash, anyone? And while my head struggles to catch up, my body is all on board.
I scoot farther and open my legs. He’s fully dressed still, and I’m lying there exposed… literally and figuratively. The picture is beautifully wrong.
Liam groans. “Goddammit, you’re soaked.” He cups me between my legs, his thumb swiping over my clit.
I moan, throwing my head back. “Fuck.”
“I will do just that, but first, tell me, Thunder, did you get this wet recalling our first night together?”
He pushes two fingers into me. I arch my back, mewing.
“Maybe,” I rasp.
“What got you this wet, baby?” He pulls his fingers in and out. Not rushing. Completely controlling the situation. Playing me with such precision, I’m about to lose my mind.
“You,” I breathe out, holding his gaze. This I can give him. This I can own.
“Good answer.” He seizes my lips in a punishing kiss.
He fucks me with his fingers, and in no time, he has me writhing and panting.
It’s not enough. He is playing with me like with prey, and I love it. And hate it.
“I need more,” I whimper.
“I know, baby. Be a good girl and take my cock out.”
I groan, clawing at his waistband, trying to free him. His cock juts out, proud and angry. “Finally.”
“Anything for my beautiful Thunder.”
I wish he didn’t say that, but I push that vulnerable thought to the side when he lines himself at my entrance.
He pushes in and stills, letting me adjust to his size. But it’s not his cock I need to adjust to. It’s our new reality. I might fight all I want, but there is a little human connecting us forever.
Liam brackets my head with his elbows and starts moving. Not with our typical reckless fervor.
His thrusts are slow, almost gentle. But they are not shallow by any means.
He’s claiming me with each move. He’s making promises I’m not ready for.
This is the first time in bed for us. First time like this, missionary. It should feel too vanilla for us, but the threat is far worse. The intimacy wraps around me without my consent.
“Harder,” I demand, to get us out of this lovemaking, back to the safety of what works.
He stops moving altogether. I hold his gaze, my hands on his chest, ready to push him away. But I don’t.
We just stare at each other, our bodies connected. Our future connected. It’s our hearts that fight.
“Harder,” I repeat.
He shakes his head, closing his eyes.
I desperately want us to be us again. No, not us. Me and him… where all that is between us is raw temptation, unsated lust, carnal ties.
When he opens his eyes again, something flickers across his face, and everything shifts.
It’s like he offered me this nuanced connection, and I didn’t accept it, so he follows my wishes. Liam, the sex-god version, is back.
It shouldn’t disappoint me.
He pulls out and flips me around. “Hold on tight, Thunder,” he growls, lifting my ass and ramming into me.
For a beat, I miss the tenderness of the previous moment. A moment I didn’t want, and yet I grieve. Jesus, I’m so confused.
Soon, all thoughts leave me as Liam builds us both up to a frenzy. Familiar. Reckless. Safe.
The room fills with our moans and skin-slapping. My release catches me off guard. One minute, I’m trying to hold on for dear life, and the next, I’m clenching, spasming around him.
My entire body pulsates as a wave takes me to oblivion. And in that moment of losing myself, I also find something.
Something to give him. Something to tell him I’m not ready, but I will try.
“Liam, Liam, Liam,” his name rolls from my lips like a reverent chant.
The guttural sounds that rips from him is the most unexpected praise.
He continues his relentless tempo, prolonging my pleasure until he comes inside me with a roar.
He collapses on top of me, and we pant, coming down slowly.
“You’re heavy,” I groan.
“Shit.” He rolls over, and without thinking, I reach after him, finding a comfortable spot in the crook of his armpit.
We stay embraced like that, not talking, just testing this newly found or forced connection between us.
“Why don’t you like it when people call you Ro?” he asks into the darkness.
“My mom used to call me that,” I say without a second thought.
Sharing intimate details isn’t something we do, and I expect something to stop me, but nothing does.
In the post-climax intimacy of a dark room, with the man whose baby I’m expecting, I let a wall crack just slightly and share.
“She was a ray of sunshine in the dark manor of my childhood home. She laughed and danced. She was such a joyful person. She protected us from Father.”
Liam tenses. “Did you need a lot of protection?”
I sigh, regretting that we moved to him so quickly. “No, not really. He ignored me and Tee most of the time. But Mom was always there to make sure it stayed that way.”
“She sounds like a wonderful woman.” Liam’s fingers stroke my back, soothing me mindlessly.
“She was. I don’t know why she loved my father, or if she did. I remember her bending for him, cowering, caving. I never understood that. But I was too young to really know.”
My heart swells with the memory of her.
“What happened to her?”
“Cancer.” I sigh. “She was the strongest person I know. Till the very end. So graceful. So poignant. So loving.”
He kisses the crown of my head. “I’m sorry.” His tone doesn’t carry pity. It carries compassion. Understanding.
I don’t know what to do with that, so I push up on to my elbows and kiss him. “Anyway, I only let my sister call me Ro. I don’t let anyone else taint that fragile memory.”
He pulls me tighter and rolls us to the side. “This is our first pillow talk? I think it got heavy pretty fast.”
I snort. “Talking has never been your forte.”
He slaps me gently. “I’m great at talking. I just care very little about it.”
We lie there, our gazes locked. Uneasiness never arrives. The moment holds only comfort and safety. I wish I could lean into it fully.
“Why are you still dressed?” I try to claw us out of this unknown territory.
He chuckles and sits up and undresses quickly. When he snuggles back against me, I push him away.
“Wait, let me admire you for a moment.”
He rolls onto his back and puts his hands behind his head. “Be quick about it, because my cock needs your pussy again.”
Damn. I let my eyes roam down his sculpted torso, across his broad chest, down his trim waist to his hard cock. The man is a masterpiece.
“I feel objectified,” he teases.
“You’ll live,” I counter, and he grabs me and pulls me to him, capturing my lips.