Chapter 25
Liam
Liam didn’t remember the walk back. He wasn’t even sure he’d walked at all. His feet must have moved, his legs must have carried him, but everything between his ears was white noise—like someone had taken a match to his neural wiring and now it was just static where thoughts used to be.
Somehow, he’d made it back to his room, shut the door, and locked it.
He sat on the edge of the bed, still shaking.
His clothes were rumpled and covered in cum, his skin cooling with sweat, and his neck stinging where Jacob’s teeth had marked him.
His lips felt swollen and raw. He could still taste Jacob there—all heat and hunger.
“Jesus Christ,” he whispered.
He’d come apart under Jacob’s hands. Let himself be touched and owned by a man he was supposed to keep at a polite distance. The sounds he’d made—God, he hadn’t even known he was capable of them.
He covered his face with his hands, his wedding ring digging into his temple, sharp enough to make him sick.
What the fuck had he done? He hadn’t just lost control—he’d handed it over. Jacob had taken it like it was his to claim. The worst part was how much he’d liked it. No. He’d fucking loved it.
He dropped back onto the bed, heart pounding, eyes stinging. This couldn’t happen again. It couldn’t. But already, his body was betraying him, begging for more.
What gutted him most was the awful certainty that he wouldn’t stop Jacob if he reached for him again. He’d let it happen. He’d fall the way he always did.
* * *
Liam had skipped breakfast, too much of a coward to face Jacob and too nauseous to eat anyway. He sat in the makeup trailer, staring at himself in the mirror as the smell of cinnamon tea and powder clung to the air.
The bite marks were impossible to miss: dark, distinct, two on his neck and one on the curve of his shoulder.
When he touched one, it throbbed under his fingertips like it had a pulse of its own.
He didn’t remember Jacob being that rough, but then again, in the moment he hadn’t cared.
He’d wanted every scrape of teeth, every bruise, every mark Jacob chose to leave.
He tugged the collar of his hoodie higher, knowing it was pointless. No zipper in the world could erase what Jacob had written into his skin. He’d just have to figure out how he was going to hide them from Emma once he got home.
Jacob sat across from him, silent and still while his makeup artist worked her magic on him. He looked the same as ever, calm and unreadable, like nothing could bother him. Meanwhile, Liam felt like his skin was buzzing just from being in the same trailer.
Benji hovered beside Liam, muttering about concealer and palettes as he dabbed at his skin.
His brush stilled at Liam’s neck, eyes narrowing, catching on the bruises.
“Well,” he murmured, a note of amusement curling in, “this’ll be a fun little puzzle.
Didn’t have these yesterday. Looks like somebody got carried away. ”
Liam choked. “I—what? No. It’s nothing.”
He didn’t dare look at Jacob, but he could feel it anyway; his stare searing into his skin.
Benji snorted. “It’s not nothing. These are fresh.” He glanced at Liam in the mirror and offered a wink. “None of my business, of course. Just bold, considering who’s waiting for you back home. Don’t worry, I’ll cover them. The studio stuff works miracles. Your secret’s safe with me, darling.”
Liam gave a jerky nod, staring at his lap while the brush worked to erase the evidence at his throat. Jacob’s eyes tracked every mark, and Liam swore he could feel it—the possession in that stare pressing into him, claiming him without a single touch.
“Let’s go!” someone yelled from outside. “We need to get to the cabin before the light shifts.” The crew scattered, grabbing backpacks, clipboards, and camera gear.
Liam bolted upright the second his makeup was done, desperate for the air outside. Jacob followed a moment later.
The hike to the cabin wasn’t long but it was steep.
The trees rising close enough to break the group into scattered clusters.
Conversation drifted between the others—complaints about bugs, jokes about protein bars, the snap of a bootlace—but at the back, where Liam and Jacob walked, silence stretched tight as a wire.
“You’re staring,” Liam muttered, warmth creeping under his skin.
“Your neck,” Jacob said quietly.
Liam let out something like a laugh. “Whose fault is that?”
Jacob’s eyes flickered dark and unrepentant. “I didn’t mean to leave them.”
“You don’t exactly look regretful.”
“No.”
The honesty struck like a blow.
“You should’ve told me to stop,” Jacob added.
Liam’s hands curled at his sides. “I didn’t want you to.”
Jacob gave the smallest nod, like it was an answer he already knew; confirmation of something he’d been certain of all along.
Liam fidgeted as they walked, hyper-aware of every movement. He couldn’t get comfortable in his own skin. “I shouldn’t have run off afterward,” he said finally. “I panicked.”
“You looked like you needed space. I wasn’t going to stop you.”
“Still do, I guess,” Liam muttered, mostly to the trees ahead. “I don’t know how to undo this.”
Jacob’s voice dropped. “Then don’t.”
Liam’s head snapped toward him. “You’re not sorry?”
“Sorry doesn’t help anyone. Whatever this is—we crossed the line. No pretending now.”
Liam believed him. Something had broken open between them last night, and it was too large to tape back together again. This wasn’t confusion anymore; it was a secret too big to unmake.
The trail narrowed, winding between thick trunks where the light barely broke through. Their boots crunched over gravel while leaves shifted softly underfoot. A bird darted off at their approach before the woods seemed to hold their breath again.
Liam cleared his throat, the sound too loud in the stillness. “Do you ever wonder what people would say if they knew?”
Jacob didn’t look at him. “Who?”
“Anyone. Everyone. Doesn’t matter.”
“They’d say we’re selfish.”
Liam exhaled loudly. “Yeah… probably.”
“They wouldn’t be wrong.”
The bluntness caught Liam off guard. Jacob kept his eyes forward.
“It’s selfish as hell,” he continued. “We both know who we’d hurt.
I’m not pretending it’s clean, or right.
But fuck—” His voice dropped, darker now.
“After last night? After the way you came apart for me? Until this burns out, you’re mine. ”
Liam froze. “I… I can’t be yours,” he said. The words came too fast, too loud, like force could make them true.
Jacob didn’t turn around.
“Did you hear me?”
He stopped and turned, his eyes locking on Liam. “Yeah, loud and clear.”
Liam’s chest tightened until it hurt. “I have a wife.”
Jacob raised a brow. “You think I don’t know that?”
“She’s pregnant,” Liam blurted, the words tumbling out too fast. “More than seven months. We’re naming the baby after her grandmother. We just bought a stroller—”
“Are you trying to convince me,” Jacob cut in, voice sharp enough to slice, “or yourself?”
“I’m not—” Liam swallowed hard, throat dry. “I’m not this—”
“This what?” Jacob pressed, his tone like steel. “Honest?”
Liam stumbled back a step, then forward again, his fists curling tight at his sides like he didn’t know which direction to run.
Jacob closed the space, stopping just short of contact, the heat of him unbearable. “Your body doesn’t lie,” he said, voice low and brutal—a truth that left no room for denial.
Liam’s jaw clenched, every muscle drawn tight.
“You want me,” Jacob murmured, leaning closer. “You fucking ache for it.”
Liam shook his head. “Stop—”
“You moaned my name like you forgot yours.” His words were almost cruel in their precision. “You came apart in my hands, clawing at me. Don’t stand here and tell me that was a mistake.”
Color scorched Liam’s face. His gaze darted to the trees, searching for an escape, for witnesses—anything—but there was only Jacob. Nothing but the fire that refused to burn out. “Jesus…”
Jacob’s voice dropped further, sounding dangerous and final. “If I touch you again, you’re mine. We both know it.”
He turned and walked away, leaving silence in his wake.
Liam stood frozen, heart in his throat, skin lit with heat that wouldn’t fade.
Then, because he couldn’t seem to do anything else, he followed.
* * *
They’d been shooting all day: exterior shots in the woods, close-ups on the porch, and endless retakes inside the cabin. By now, the crew moved heavily with exhaustion, their shirts damp and their eyes bleary. The air reeked of sawdust, sweat, and the stale press of too many bodies packed together.
Only one scene left.
Liam was both drained and wired, pacing the cramped space between takes like he couldn’t contain the current burning through him. Every time his eyes caught on Jacob’s, something inside him threatened to break wide open. He never held the look for longer than a heartbeat.
Jacob hadn’t spoken a word since their walk through the woods. He sat off to the side, silence wound tight around him, yet beneath it Liam swore he felt the simmer—the fire he held back with nothing but sheer restraint.
Liam had lied. He knew it. He’d told Jacob he couldn’t be his, as if the words were fact and last night hadn’t happened. As if his body hadn’t shattered open and given Jacob everything. Jacob wasn’t going to let it stand. Liam felt the promise in every glance that burned from across the set.
The final scene of the day was a kiss. They’d blocked it yesterday. It was supposed to be short and gentle, nothing more than a simple peck on the lips before the fade to black.
“Quiet on set!” Ellen called from behind the monitor. “Scene thirty-B, cabin interior, last take of the day. Let’s get this clean.”
“Rolling,” came the call.
The cabin fell into silence.
“Action.”
Jacob didn’t wait for Liam to come to him; the way the script demanded. He crossed the room in three strides, caught Liam by the shirt, and crushed their mouths together.
The shock of it ripped a gasp out of him. He staggered, off-balance. It was humiliating how quickly he gave in and melted into the kiss. His lips parted and his hands flew up, clutching at Jacob’s shoulders.
Jacob deepened the kiss, dragging his tongue slowly across Liam’s lip before pushing inside.
The script had called for gentle; Jacob gave devastation.
He tilted Liam’s head into the angle he wanted, mouth sensual, tongue demanding, each movement deliberate.
He bit down on Liam’s lower lip—just enough for him to gasp again and to feel it in his bones.
“Cut!” Ellen’s voice sliced through the air.
Jacob didn’t stop because this wasn’t for the cameras. This wasn’t for anyone else in the room. It was for Liam. For the lie he’d told earlier. For every second Liam had tried to pretend he wasn’t already his.
Jacob drew back only when he chose to, his grip unyielding, piercing blue eyes fixed on Liam with a conviction that left no room to run. He leaned in again, close enough for his breath to ghost over Liam’s ear. For his whispered words to strike hard and irrevocably. “I told you… you’re mine.”
Then he stepped back, composed, unshaken, as though nothing had happened.
The crew had stilled, a beat of stunned silence hanging thick in the air. There were a few raised brows, and a muttered “Jesus” came from somewhere near the lights. Ellen grinned, wide and unbothered. “Print it. That was—wow, that was something.”
Liam’s pulse refused to slow, his breathing still ragged. He couldn’t look away, not when Jacob’s stare locked him in place, branding the truth across his skin.
This wasn’t over. Not even close.