Chapter 7 Liam #2
I gripped her hips then slowed down the pace.
“What?” She looked down at me, chest heaving.
“I want you on your back.”
She smirked. "Anything."
I lifted her off me and guided her onto her back against the pillows. She went willingly, watching me with those dark eyes as I settled between her legs.
This. This felt different, more intimate, face to face. I pushed back inside her slowly, and we both groaned.
“Fuck,” she breathed. “You’re so deep like this.”
I couldn’t form words. Could barely think. She felt amazing—tight and hot and perfect around me. I started to move, finding a rhythm. Not rough, but present. Grounding.
“You feel so good,” she said, her hands coming up to cup my face.
I kissed her, one hand sliding behind her neck. Gentle. The kiss was slower now, deeper. Not just desperate need—something more.
“So do you,” I said against her mouth.
She wrapped her legs around my waist, pulling me deeper. I thrust harder, and she cried out.
“Liam—oh my god—”
“Yeah?” I moved faster, but still controlled. “That good?”
“So good. Don’t stop.”
I didn’t stop. But I also didn’t just fuck her. I was present. Paying attention to every sound she made, every shift in her breathing, every clench around me that told me I’d hit the right spot.
This mattered. She mattered.
“Emily,” I said, and something in my voice made her open her eyes. Look at me.
The connection hit me in the chest. This wasn’t just physical. It was—Real.
Her hand found mine, fingers lacing together against the pillow beside her head.
“I’m close,” she whispered.
“Me too.”
“Together?”
The word lodged something in my throat. Together. Like we were a unit. Like this meant something beyond just getting off.
“Yeah, together.”
I shifted the angle, thrust deeper, and she gasped. Her free hand gripped my shoulder, nails digging in. I could feel her getting closer—her breathing shorter and her body tensing around me.
“Liam—I’m—“
“I know. Let go. I’ve got you.”
And she did. She came with my while she said my name, her whole body shuddering, clenching around me in waves. The sensation and the sight of her—lost in pleasure that I’d given her—pushed me over the edge.
I came hard, thrusting into her, my hand tightening in hers. White light behind my eyes. My whole body tensing and releasing and tensing again as I emptied myself.
“Fuck,” I groaned. “Emily—fuck—“
She wrapped her arms around me, held me close while we both came down.
My heart was hammering, then my whole body felt loose and satisfied and good.
“Holy shit,” Emily said after a long moment.
“Yeah.”
“That was—”
“I know.”
She looked up at me, and her eyes were soft. She was vulnerable in a way that made my chest open in a special way.
“I love you,” she said.
The words hung in the air between us.
I looked at the way she was watching me, open and hopeful. It was more than the sex, it was the way she’d been there for me, invited my mom to the race, stood by me through everything.
She deserved honesty and deserved the truth.
And the truth was—
“I love you too,” I said.
And I meant it.
Maybe not in the all-consuming, world-ending way I’d felt about—
Don’t go there.
But I loved her. I did. In a real, tangible, possible way. The kind of love that could actually work and one day be something.
She smiled, kissed me soft and lingering. “Good.”
I kissed her back, trying to pour everything I felt into it. Gratitude and affection and the desperate hope that this would be enough—that she would be enough. And that I could make myself be the person she deserved.
I carefully pulled out, dealt with the condom while she grabbed tissues from her nightstand. We cleaned up in comfortable silence, and then she curled back against my side.
Her hand rested over my heart, and mine traced lazy patterns on her shoulder.
“Stay,” she said again, even though I’d already agreed.
“I’m not going anywhere.”
She smiled against my chest. Within minutes, her breathing had evened out and she was asleep.
I stared up at the ceiling, at her string lights casting warm patterns across the room.
This was good. This was what I wanted. A girlfriend who loved me, who I loved back. Someone who thought I was brave for standing up for my teammate, who wanted me and showed it.
Not some impossible thing with someone who’d made it clear I was nothing to him. I meant what I’d said. I loved Emily.
Outside, campus was quiet. The party was over. The fight was over. The race was over.
Everything was over.
And I’d won. I’d beaten Alex on the water. I’d defended Remy from Marcus’s bullshit. I’d made my girlfriend come. I was exactly where I was supposed to be.
See? You’re over it. Over him.
I closed my eyes, let exhaustion pull me under.
But just before sleep took me, the memory surfaced again: Alex’s face when I’d blocked that punch. The way his eyes had widened, and the split second where we both acknowledged that I was protecting him.
Couldn’t let them mess up that face.
The thought slipped through before I could stop it.
Pretty face like that? Would be a shame.
My eyes snapped open in the dark.
Jesus Christ.
I shut my eyes again and forced my breathing to slow. It didn’t mean anything. You’re tired. Sleep it off. It’ll be gone in the morning.
I focused on Emily’s breathing, the weight of her against me, and the satisfaction still humming through my body. The simple, good feeling of being with someone who wanted me.
I drifted off with Emily’s warmth against me and Alex’s face in the back of my mind—a ghost I couldn’t quite exorcise.
But I was trying.
God, I was trying.