Chapter 20 #2
“I’ve never done an open relationship,” he admitted. “Hell, I’ve never really done relationships. Period.”
I smiled faintly. “Yeah, I know.”
He let out a quiet huff. “Guess I always figured… the way I am? Flirting, hooking up, bouncing around… it was just a flaw. Or a necessary evil so I don’t have to deal with feelings.”
Something in his voice caught.
I softened. “Or maybe it’s just how you’ve learned to protect yourself.”
Liam didn’t say anything, but his jaw worked slightly, like that landed closer to home than he expected.
“People are complicated in cute ways,” I said lightly. “Even bartenders with commitment issues.”
That earned a small, surprised laugh.
“I learn something new about my friends every day,” he murmured.
He was sprawled beside the fire now, one leg bent, the other stretched out. Beer balanced carelessly in one hand. And I couldn’t stop ogling him.
I let myself just look at him.
The way the firelight played across his features, highlighting the angular cut of his jaw, the way his beard caught the glow. The stretch of his broad shoulders and the sexy dusting of hair across his torso. The way his lips curved. Not his usual smirk, but something softer, something honest.
I swallowed, suddenly feeling too warm.
Liam caught my look, head tilting slightly. “What?”
I shook my head, forcing a smile. “Nothing.”
He hummed, taking another slow sip of his beer, his eyes still on me.
Something in the air was moving.
The crackling fire, the hush of the woods around us, the way my pulse thrummed in my ears.
I thought about all the years I’d known him. All the nights like this one. All the nights that almost felt like this one.
Like the night we all piled into that one-bedroom Airbnb after a concert and Liam and I shared the couch. I’d barely slept, aware of every inch of him beside me, his arm thrown across my waist like it meant nothing. Maybe it did.
All the times I’d watched him hook up at bars. Liam, with that casual charm, his smile that made strangers bold. I always told myself it didn’t bother me. That I was just protective. That it was fine.
But it wasn’t. Not really.
The truth I hadn’t let myself say out loud was that I wanted him.
Not just sex, though that too, obviously.
But the rest of it. The closeness. The way he looked at you when you made him laugh.
The way he remembered your coffee order even if you only told him once.
The way his hand always found the small of your back in crowded rooms.
I wanted all of it. Him. Us. Whatever that meant.
Liam set his beer down.
I tracked the movement, my breath hitching as he leaned forward, resting his forearms on his knees.
And then, fuck!
He reached out, his fingers brushing against my knee, the touch barely there, but heavy with intent.
I should have pulled away.
I didn’t.
Instead, I let the moment stretch, my breath coming a little faster, the space between us shrinking.
Liam’s voice was quiet, but steady. “We gonna talk about it?”
I wet my lips. “Talk about what?”
He gave me a look. “Sam.”
“I don’t know what you want me to say.”
He didn’t answer right away. Just looked at me. Like he was searching for something under my skin. I wondered if he saw it. Everything I’d buried, everything I’d tried to swallow for years.
My heart was pounding now. Loud enough to drown out the fire. Loud enough to make me feel exposed.
“If we talk about it,” I said finally, “we can’t go back.”
The corner of his mouth twitched. Not quite a smile. Not quite not.
His fingers tightened slightly against my knee, not enough to trap me, just enough to hold.
“Say what you’re thinking,” he murmured.
My heart hammered.
What I was thinking?
That I wanted to close the gap between us. That I wanted to push forward, kiss him again, see if it still burned the same way it had that night on the dance floor.
That I wanted this.
Him.
Us.
Instead of saying any of that, I just moved.
Liam didn’t stop me.
He met me.
The kiss wasn’t hesitant. It wasn’t soft.
It was heated, demanding, charged with everything we’d been pretending didn’t exist.
Liam’s hands gripped my face, pulling me closer, his body heat rolling over me in waves. I felt the solid press of him, the way his chest met mine, the way his fingers threaded into my hair.
I groaned into his mouth, tilting my head to deepen the kiss, my hands sliding up his back, feeling the firm cut of muscle.
Liam pulled away just enough, his breath warm against my lips, eyes filled with something in the firelight. His hands were still on me, firm but not insistent, like he was waiting. Like he was giving me a way out if I wanted it.
His voice was low, rough. “This okay?”
I swallowed, my pulse thumping. I didn’t trust my voice, so I nodded.
His lips curled slightly, just a fraction of a smile, but it wasn’t cocky, it wasn't trouble. Just relief.
He shifted closer, his forehead resting briefly against mine before he murmured, “Wanna go inside my tent?”
I barely registered nodding before he was standing, grabbing my wrist, leading me toward his tent like he couldn’t wait.
I didn’t want him to wait.
I didn’t want to wait either.
The second we were inside and the tent flap was zipped, the world outside disappeared.
There was just us.
Just the heat between us, the press of skin on skin, my fingers mapping Liam’s bare shoulders while his hands moved over me with a steadiness that made my pulse stutter.
The moment I gave into him, I realized, there was no coming back from this.