Chapter 22
TWENTY-TWO
JUNIPER
My body is warm and buzzing, my skin flushed, my heartbeat erratic—but it’s not just from what he did to me. How hard I came around his fingers.
It’s from how he looked at me while he did it.
Like I was art. Like I was his.
The mirror doesn’t lie. I see the red flush on my chest, the way my nipples are still tight from being watched so intensely.
I see the damp shine between my thighs, proof of how completely he unraveled me with just his hands and that voice.
The dirty talk was next level. I think it might have been filthier than the scene in the book.
And I see him, still behind me, his broad chest rising beneath his shirt, eyes dark and fixed on mine like he’s not done. Like he’s barely gotten started.
I’ve never felt this exposed. Not just physically, but emotionally. Like he’s peeled back every layer of my defenses, and all that’s left is want. Need. A reckless kind of craving.
I should be overwhelmed. But I’m not. Because Liam’s gaze hasn’t wavered—not once. He’s not smirking. He’s not smug. He’s reverent.
I don’t think anyone’s ever looked at me like this. Like I’m both the fire and the fuel.
My chest rises again on a shaky breath. He’s still dressed, his shirt still tucked neatly into his pants, but there’s something feral behind his restraint. He’s holding back for me, waiting for my cue, and the knowledge sends another flicker of heat through my belly.
He worshipped me without undressing himself.
And I want to worship him right back.
“You want to keep going?” he asks, voice husky as his lips brush over my shoulder.
I can hear the need in his voice. And I can still feel the painfully hard length of him beneath my ass.
“Yes,” I say. No hesitation.
Because in this moment, there’s no fear left. No embarrassment or panic at the thought of showing Liam everything I am. There’s only moving forward with whatever this is between us. Even if it only lasts for tonight or for the week, I want it.
“Good,” he says, brushing his thumb across my bottom lip before he captures my mouth with his own. “Then get on the bed.”
I move off his lap and sit at the edge of the bed.
Liam stands then steps in front of me, watching me. His chest rises slowly, his eyes burning like he’s memorizing me all over again—my parted lips, my bare breasts, the trust I’m offering him without a single word.
He starts by pulling off his sweater and setting it on the chair behind him.
Then, he reaches for the buttons on his shirt, working them one by one, slow and deliberate.
No rush. No performance. Just his eyes on mine while the fabric parts, revealing the golden skin of his chest, the sharp cut of his abs, and that trail of hair that disappears below his waistband.
When the shirt finally slips off his shoulders, he tosses it aside. His fingers go to his belt next, the sound of the leather sliding through the loops making my stomach flip. The clink of the buckle. The soft rasp of his zipper. It all feels louder with my heartbeat in my ears.
He watches me the whole time. Like he wants me to see every inch he’s going to give me.
When he steps out of his pants, I get my first look at how hard he is for me, straining against the fabric of his briefs.
He doesn’t say a word as he hooks his thumbs in the waistband and slides them down.
His cock springs free and I swear I lose my ability to breathe for a full five seconds.
“Oh,” I blurt, before I can stop myself. “Well. That’s…ambitious.”
His mouth curves into a knowing grin, cocky and lethal. “Ambitious?”
I lick my lips, my eyes still glued to him. “I mean, I’ve read about this kind of confidence, but I didn’t think it actually existed in the wild.”
Liam laughs—low, sinful, completely unbothered—and strokes a hand down his length like he’s doing it just to mess with me. “You going to be okay?”
“Physically? Emotionally? Spiritually?” I raise a brow. “Unclear. But I’m willing to find out.”
That earns me a groan as he steps closer and strokes a knuckle along my jaw. “You’re the one sitting there like a feast, Firefly. I’m just trying to keep up.”
I reach for him then, wrapping my hand around him for the first time, and his breath hitches. He’s hot and hard in my grip, and my own pulse ricochets at the weight and heat of him.
“Fuck,” he groans. “I love your hands on me.”
I stroke him harder and soon there’s precum leaking from his tip. I reach forward to lick it, but Liam has other plans.
“Lie back. Head over the edge of the bed.”
Without a second thought, I scoot back to lie across the bed, letting my head hang just over the edge like I’ve imagined in more than one late-night fantasy. My hair spills over, nearly brushing the floor, while my chest rises with each breath, and I wait.
He moves to the edge of the bed, and the sight of him upside down makes my pulse throb everywhere at once.
“Now open that perfect mouth for me, Firefly,” he says softly, but there’s nothing soft about his gaze. “I want you to take me just like this. I want to see your lips stretched so fucking tight around me.”
I open for him. Greedy, aching, desperate for the way he’s looking at me—like I’m the only thing that’s ever satisfied him, yet I haven’t even started.
My tongue slips out to swirl the head of his cock, finally getting a taste of him.
As I wrap my lips around him and begin to move, his hands brace on either side of my ribs, keeping me still beneath him, and he groans like he’s coming undone. But I can feel the control simmering in him—tight, electric, coiled.
He bends over me and drops a kiss to my belly. Loving the sensation of his mouth there, my hips rock upward.
The angle changes and I take him farther into my mouth.
I swirl my tongue around the head of his cock, feeling a shiver ripple through him as I tighten my grip around his base. His fingers flex at my hips, and I can tell he’s barely holding on.
But then, without warning, he leans forward. One hand slides up my thigh, spreading me open again, and the next thing I know, his mouth is on me.
His tongue sweeps up my center, hot and slow. The sensation liquefies me. For a moment, I lose my rhythm, my hand faltering on his shaft as a moan catches in my throat.
He doesn’t let up.
One hand curls around my thigh, anchoring me, while the other spreads across my lower belly, keeping me perfectly tilted to him. I can’t see him from this angle, but I feel everything. Every breath. Every flick of his tongue. Every soft groan that vibrates straight through my core.
Then he pulls back just enough to speak, his voice low and rough against my skin.
“Fuck, Firefly,” he mutters, kissing the inside of my thigh. “You taste like sugar and sin.”
I have no words. All I can think is I wonder how we look right now? My head hanging off the bed with his cock down my throat while he licks between my legs.
The sensation of him licking me while I have him in my mouth is a sensory overload I never could’ve prepared for. A sharp bolt of pleasure zips through me, and I moan, the vibration pulling a curse from deep in his chest.
“That feel good, Firefly?”
I hum a yes, mouth full, and he chuckles darkly before diving back in. It’s messy and maddening and so utterly him—always pushing, always wrecking me in the best way.
And all I can think, as he worships me from between my legs while I do the same for him, is how completely I’ve unraveled in his hands.
And how I never want this—him—to stop.
I suck him deeper in response, needing something to ground me, to keep me tethered through the way he’s absolutely wrecking me with his mouth.
His groan vibrates against me again. “You’re addictive.”
He presses two fingers inside me, and I gasp, my thighs beginning to tremble. “Oh my god…”
“Come for me,” he growls, more command than plea. “I want every drop of it, baby.”
And then he sucks my clit, firm and steady, and it detonates something inside me. I come hard, thighs shaking, my cry choked around his cock as I fall apart against his mouth.
He growls in satisfaction, licking me through it, like he’s trying to memorize the way I taste, the way I sound, the way I fall to pieces just for him.
“You’re mine,” he whispers, like a vow only the two of us will ever hear.
When he pulls back, he drags one last, slow kiss over my sensitive flesh, like he can’t stand to leave me. Then he stands, towering over me again.
My eyes lift, catching the sight of him—his lips and jaw slick with me, eyes dark, chest heaving like he’s the one who just came undone.
The sight punches another needy sound out of me.
I gasp around him, the sound muffled by his cock nudging past my lips again. He grips my hair, just tight enough to hold me in place as he rocks his hips forward, groaning low.
“Look at you,” he rasps, voice wrecked. “Look at you taking me so fucking pretty—your taste still on my tongue—fuck—”
He thrusts deeper, careful but hungry, and my lashes flutter as I swirl my tongue around him, savoring the salt and heat.
I feel him tremble, feel the last thread of his control start to slip.
His hips stutter. His grip tightens.
“I’m gonna—shit, I’m—”
He comes with a low growl of my name, spilling into my mouth as I hold him steady, coaxing every last tremble out of him. He doesn’t pull away until he’s breathless and dazed, eyes wide and reverent as he looks down at me like I’ve just rewritten every rule he ever knew.
“Holy hell,” he murmurs, dropping to his knees to kiss me, deep and messy and grateful.
When we finally come up for air, we’re tangled together in the center of my bed, limbs loose and bodies humming.
And for a moment, there’s nothing in the world except the sound of our breathing, and the realization that we’ve just crossed a line we can’t uncross.
I turn, then lift my head to see his face. He’s already watching me like he’s trying to memorize every freckle, every eyelash, every piece of me he didn’t get to touch yet.
He lifts a hand, brushing his knuckles over my cheek, his thumb tracing the corner of my mouth like he’s remembering himself there.
“You okay?” he murmurs, voice hoarse but so gentle it makes my chest ache.
“Yeah.” My lips curve, a soft, shy smile I can’t quite stop. “Are you?”
“Yeah, but I’m never going to be the same.” He huffs a laugh, warm and low, and drops a kiss to my forehead. “Honestly, you wrecked me, Firefly.”
Heat floods my cheeks. I bury my face in the curve of his neck, inhaling the scent of us together. I playfully nudge him with my knee. “You deserved it.”
“Hmm.” He dips his head to kiss my nose, then my cheek, then the corner of my mouth. Each one slower than the last.
His lips linger at my temple, but when he pulls back, his eyes sweep down my body and the warmth in them shifts, a flicker of care beneath the haze of satisfaction.
“Hey,” he murmurs, voice still low and a little rough. “Lie back for me a sec.”
I blink, confused but pliant as he shifts away, reaching for the box of tissues on my nightstand.
“You don’t—” I start, but he cuts me off with a look that’s so tender it makes my chest ache.
“Shh, Firefly. Let me take care of you.”
I settle back against the pillows, watching him as he gently parts my thighs, cleaning me up with slow, careful strokes that make my cheeks flush all over again. It’s not sexual, not exactly, but the way he does it, so gentle and focused, feels more intimate than anything that came before.
When he’s done, he presses a soft kiss to my inner thigh, then looks up at me with that boyish, crooked grin.
“All good?” he asks, voice quiet.
“Yeah,” I breathe, warmth blooming in my chest so big it almost hurts. “Thank you.”
He tosses the tissues, then crawls back up beside me, tucking me close like he can’t stand the thought of even an inch between us.
He kisses my forehead, the bridge of my nose, the corner of my mouth. It’s slow and unhurried. Like he has nowhere else to be.
“Stay here tonight?” I whisper, my words muffled against his skin.
“Try and get rid of me,” he says, so soft and certain it twists something deep in my chest.
He curls his hand at my hip, his other brushing lazy circles on my back. I hum, sleep already pulling at the edges of me.
“I really like this,” I mumble, half-asleep now, the words slipping out before I can swallow them down.
He kisses my hair, his breath warm at my temple. “Me, too, Firefly. Me, too.”
And when his arms tighten around me, holding me safe and steady, I know that I can let myself believe it.
I drift off to sleep with his heartbeat beneath my ear and his name warm on my lips.