Chapter 27
Liam
My thrusts are relentless. I’ve been gentle with her since the hospital. Letting her body rest a bit.
But I can’t help myself anymore. I need her to feel how desperate I am for her.
Her eyes fleet around briefly as she fights the urge to look away. She holds my gaze with her stubborn will. She wants to look away, though.
Just like she hasn’t reacted to my words. Not verbally, at least. But the sudden hitch in her breath, the widening of her eyes, the goose bumps… they prove that she heard me.
Really heard me.
And I need to show her. The need grabs me with such ferocity that the table screeches on the rough floor and hits the wall.
I might not be ready to say I love her. She might not be ready to hear it. But that doesn’t mean I won’t be reminding her.
With my actions.
With my respect.
With my support.
Corm had to say it out loud before I allowed myself to see it.
And when she looked at the car… like it was engineering, not status. Not with admiration, but with appreciation.
I understood then. This is it for me. There is no other way.
Roxy grips my shoulders, her nails sinking into my skin. Sweat trickles down my forehead.
Our panting fills the space. I dig my fingers into her hips, holding her, preventing her from leaving.
Not here and now.
From our lives.
I’m completely possessed by the need to finally own this woman. For her to let me claim her as mine. For awarding me that privilege.
She meets the punishing tempo with eagerness, and when I think I should slow down to give her a bit of a reprieve, she surprises me.
“Harder,” she grits out.
“Careful what you wish for, Thunder.”
“I know exactly what I want.”
She grips my face, holding my cheeks fiercely. “I want you to fuck me so hard, I can’t think. I’m not ready to give you more. But this… this is yours to take. So make it count.”
She holds my gaze. This time, she really holds it. Not because I demanded it, but because she is also trying to express her feelings without naming them.
I take any crumbs from her. Because she’s worth the wait. She deserves to make her choice.
And I, for once, need to come to terms with the notion that I can’t control the outcome.
I seize her lips in a punishing kiss. Pleased she took one minuscule step toward us. Frustrated she’s not ready to take more. Angry at myself for causing her hesitation.
She slides her hands down my neck, taking my abuse and matching it with her own pent-up energy.
“Now, Liam. Take me like I belong to you.”
Those words break something in me, and I lose all control. I yank her down and whip her around. “Hands on the table,” I growl, pushing her between the shoulder blades.
She obeys, jutting her butt out and taunting me with a smirk over her shoulder.
When I ram into her, her smirk morphs into an O as she lets out a moan that sears itself into my memory forever.
She might not be ready to acknowledge it, but she’s fucking mine.
Thrust.
Mine.
Thrust.
Mine.
Thrust.
“I’m close,” she whimpers.
“I know, baby. I can feel your walls squeezing around my cock. You’re perfect. So perfect. Just let go for me.”
And she does.
Not in life, but in this moment, she does let go, and as her tight pussy convulses around me, my balls tighten, and I follow her shortly after.
“Liam… Liam… Liam…” She chants my name as I spill inside her.
My name on her lips has me coming with such intensity, I almost black-out for a moment.
Somehow, I stay upright. Somehow, I even hold up Roxy who has lost any command of her legs, sagging in my arms and against the bench.
And it hits me… with the precision of a surgical knife cutting my sealed heart open. This woman, the mother of my child, might fight me till her last breath.
But I’m hers, regardless.
Today.
Tomorrow.
Forever.
“Are you sure?” Roxy hesitates.
We cleaned up in silence, and I thought we would just leave, but as I was about to lock the car, I opened the door instead.
“Do you want to sit behind the wheel or not?” I make a gesture to beckon her forward.
The smile she gives me is everything. I want to put it on her face for the rest of my life.
“Okay.” She climbs inside carefully.
She wiggles her ass a bit to get herself comfortable in the seat. Then, slowly, with care I appreciate, she puts her hands on the wheel. “She’s a beauty.”
“That she is.” With my hands on the hood, I lean down into the opening and smirk when Roxy gets distracted, roaming her eyes around my torso.
She realizes I caught her ogling, and turns away quickly. “Aren’t you worried someone will steal her here?” She runs her fingers along the dashboard.
“I bought the entire block, and I have security around here.”
“You bought the entire block so you can have a garage here?” She tilts her head as if she doesn’t believe me.
“This is a precious possession,” I scoff.
“Unlike the worst one?” She looks up at me, grinning.
But she won’t fool me; there is a need behind her tease. She’s still upset about that statement.
“Worst might still be precious, I came to understand that lately.”
She licks her lips and swallows visibly, but she doesn’t look away. She doesn’t shy away from the loaded emotions behind my words. Progress.
“I’ll make sure you’re safe, just as I make sure the Bentley is,” I add.
We hold each other’s gaze for a beat longer. Never have I realized how much could be said with eyes only.
Or how much could be misinterpreted.
The moment grows awkward again, because I want more, and she is still holding onto her walls.
“Besides,” I navigate us away. “It’s a sketchy neighborhood. I don’t want to get jumped and robbed when I’m here.”
“Fair enough. But buying an entire block?” She laughs.
“Anything for my girl,” I tease, tapping the hood.
“I’m starting to realize that.” She gets out of the car. “Thank you for showing me your safe harbor.”
She gets it. She didn’t look at this as some eccentric, expensive hobby. She understands. “Who taught you to appreciate vintage cars?”
She startles. “How did you know?”
“It’s obvious you understand more than the average person.”
“Or the average woman you bring here?”
“I have never shown my garage to any woman before.”
Her eyes widen. “But you took them for a ride in the finished car.”
“No. Nobody except my siblings knows about this.”
She studies me for a moment with a sense of wonder in her eyes, as if she can see something she hasn’t noticed before.
She shakes her head, a small smile lingering on her lips. “You should have. It would have gotten you laid, a lot.”
I snort. “It would make this a very different venture.”
She nods, smiling. “Good.”
I’m not even sure what she is approving of, but my chest expands with warmth, as if I’ve just achieved something monumental.
Then she looks away, curling a dreadlock around her finger. And the walls go back up.
“Also, I got laid plenty.” I lighten the mood to save her.
She laughs. “That is evident.”
“Have you just given me a compliment, Little Thunder?”
“Stop gloating.” She swats at me. “Are you staying?”
I shake my head. “Let’s go home.”
The words come out automatically. Casually. Naturally.
We both still.
Home.
I expect her to bolt, but she pulls out her phone. “Let me get us a ride.”
“I guess you’re not going to tell me about your relationship with vintage cars.”
She smiles at me. “I’m going to do better. I’m going to show you.”
“To show me?”
“If you have time for a stop before we go home.”
She’s looking at me through her eyelashes, but it’s not a shy expression. That wouldn’t be her.
She’s smiling that alluring, mischievous smile of hers.
I had never realized that a small victory might feel this monumental.
Twenty minutes later, we pull into an abandoned street and near a guardhouse, an entrance to some industrial yard.
We get out of the car, and Roxy leads the way to the ramp.
The guard yawns, but when he notices Roxy, he straightens up. “Miss Lock.”
“Hey, Omar, how are you? Everything okay here?”
“Yes, it’s been as quiet as ever.”
We walk across the yard that seems to house some warehouses. “So here, you’re not Moretti?”
“Sometimes it pays off to be a Lock. In this case, it apparently saved me a lot of money.”
“What do you mean?”
“I’m renting this place… Being a Lock makes it a very safe place. Nobody would dare mess with my family. Cheaper than buying an entire block to keep something precious safe.” She winks.
“Something precious?”
We reach a large metal door, and Roxy punches in a code and then uses her thumbprint on a pad. The engine buzzes, and the door slides open.
“Holy fuck.” I don’t wait for permission, and enter what I now see is a garage.
Though judging by the number of vintage cars parked here, it could double as a warehouse.
Fuck that; this is a cathedral.
The air is cool, conditioned, and filtered, carrying the clean bite of polished metal and old leather. The lights are warm, spaced like someone actually cared about how the chrome catches the glow.
And the cars… Christ. I move around, not even sure what to admire first.
“Easy there.” Roxy laughs.
Vintage bodies in perfect lines, each one angled as if it belongs in a museum, not tucked away in an industrial alley in Brooklyn. A deep burgundy coupe with curves that look sinful.
A pale silver roadster that practically purrs while standing still.
A dark green beauty with a stance that says, “Don’t touch.”
My pulse ticks up like I’ve walked into someone’s private obsession.
I turn slowly, taking it in. “This is yours?”
Roxy strolls in behind me, as if she brought me to her kitchen. Like this is normal. As if she doesn’t have me one breath away from dropping to my knees and proposing to her and the entire collection.
“It’s mine,” she breathes out with pride. Reverence. Ownership.
I glance over my shoulder. “It’s impressive.”
Something flickers across her face. The kind of micro-expression I’ve learned not to miss on her—the moment praise lands where it was never properly allowed to land.
She clears her throat and walks past me, heels clicking on the clean concrete like punctuation.