Chapter 26
Liam
He hadn’t moved since coming back to his room, not even to unlace his boots or to shrug out of his jacket. He sat in the only chair by the window, hands dangling between his knees, every muscle in his body humming like it had forgotten how to be still.
He felt claimed down to the marrow, and maybe that was exactly what had happened.
Jacob hadn’t been performing in front of the crew; he had been branding him as his, right there for anyone to see.
The worst part was that he hadn’t even tried to stop him.
Liam had kissed him back and clung to him like some starved idiot desperate for heat.
His insides twisted, guilt and need tangling until he couldn’t tell them apart. His body never hesitated with Jacob. No matter how many times he told himself this wasn’t him, wasn’t the kind of man he was, his body didn’t care. It betrayed him every single time.
His phone lit up on the wooden desk beside him, Emma’s name glowing against the screen. He stared at it as if it might disappear if he waited long enough, his chest tightening at the sight.
He picked up just before the final ring. “Hey.”
Her voice came soft and familiar. “Hi, honey. You sound tired.”
He pressed a hand to the back of his neck. “Yeah. Long day.”
“Everything okay?”
No. The truth sat heavy in his throat. He had kissed and touched a man like his life depended on it, and now he was lying again—to his wife, the mother of his unborn child. He swallowed hard, the words tasting like ash. “Yeah. Just exhausted. I was about to shower and head out to eat.”
She hummed softly, the sound warm with care. “Wish I could feed you. You always forget to take care of yourself when you’re working hard.”
His throat closed. “I’m fine.”
“You sure?” she asked. “You sound different.”
“I’m just…” He trailed off, the pause speaking louder than anything he could say. “I don’t know. Ignore me.”
She laughed then, gentle and bright, easing the weight for half a second. “Hormones must be going haywire. I cried at a commercial today.”
He tried to smile and found that it hurt. “What was it?”
“Diaper ad. There was a dad. He looked like you. I lost it.”
He shut his eyes. The guilt was sharp enough to feel in his ribs.
“I think she knows your voice,” Emma said softly. “She kicked when I played her a voicemail you left.”
He couldn’t breathe.
“She misses you. I miss you.”
The urge to throw the phone across the room rose hard and fast, but he forced it down. “I miss you too.”
It was the truth. God, was it true. He missed the ease of being loved without guilt knotting in his stomach. The comfort of her voice without the shadow of shame. He missed the version of himself who hadn’t yet fractured.
But none of it mattered. Not when his body was still strung tight for someone else, his skin still burning from Jacob’s hands. Not when some reckless part of him wanted to walk down the hall, knock on Jacob’s door, and beg for more.
* * *
The dining hall was full enough to feel alive, though not too loud. Voices carried in a low hum beneath the wash of warm light, broken by the clink of silverware and the occasional burst of tired laughter. It was the easy rhythm of people who hadn’t just had the ground ripped out from under them.
He sat alone near the back with a plate of pasta cooling in front of him, dragging his fork through the food without bringing much of it to his mouth. He tried to look like someone who still remembered how to eat, but his jaw worked without thought, every bite landing wrong and tasteless.
He wasn’t usually one to hide from people; normally he’d have chosen a spot in the middle of the noise. Tonight he couldn’t handle it. Even the thought of conversation made his nerves tighten.
He didn’t look up when Jacob entered. He didn’t need to. The air shifted the way it always did around him, subtle but unmistakable, as if the room itself remembered who it belonged to.
Jacob crossed the distance between them without hesitation, his tray balanced easily in one hand.
He didn’t pause to acknowledge anyone as he passed.
He simply sat across from Liam, his movements casual but certain, as though it had never once occurred to him he might not be welcome.
Liam had no idea what to do with that kind of confidence.
For a while, neither of them spoke. They ate in silence, the scrape of forks on porcelain filling the space between them.
It was a fragile calm, stretched thin enough that Liam didn’t dare meet his eyes.
He didn’t trust himself—not his face, not his voice, not the phantom imprint of Jacob’s hands still burning against his skin.
“Still pretending?”
The words landed so abruptly they startled him. His hand froze midair. Jacob wasn’t even looking at him; the tone alone was challenging enough.
“I’m not pretending anything,” Liam muttered, keeping his gaze fixed on the pasta.
Jacob made an amused sound, something between a hum and a scoff, and returned to his meal.
Every bite Liam forced down turned his stomach.
When Jacob finished, he placed his fork on the empty plate and finally looked at Liam. “Room 203,” he said, voice pitched low, the kind of low that slid beneath the skin and lodged there. “Tonight.”
Liam stilled, the meaning settling heavily between them.
Jacob didn’t smile or blink. “We both know what happens if you show up.” His gaze locked on Liam’s and held him pinned. “You decide. But if you come to me tonight, it’s done. No pretending. No lies. You’re mine.”
The pause that followed was sharp, like a blade being drawn.
“You can lie to her,” Jacob said. “But not to me. Never to me.”
He stood and walked away. His stride carried the conviction of someone who already knew how this would end.
Liam stayed rooted, fingers tightening against the table’s edge as his heart hammered a brutal rhythm in his chest.
Jacob was right, and they both knew it.
* * *
He stood outside Room 203, knuckles hovering inches from the dark wood.
His hand trembled under the weight of what he was about to do.
The hallway felt too quiet, too narrow, the air thick enough to choke on.
One knock—that was all it took. The sound seemed to echo down the hall like a choice he could never take back.
The door opened before he could move, and Jacob filled the frame as if he’d been waiting.
He stood barefoot and shirtless, black sweats hanging indecently low on lean hips.
Light slid over the hard planes of his chest, and down the narrow trail of dark hair that disappeared beneath the waistband.
Fire burned in his eyes. His restraint looked one breath away from breaking.
Liam swallowed hard.
Jacob didn’t speak, he simply stepped aside and let Liam cross the threshold. The click of the door closing behind him sounded dangerous and final.
The room was warm, shadows gathering in the corners. The air carried something dense and electric, like a storm that had already chosen where it would break.
“You came,” Jacob said, voice low enough that the words seemed to hum against Liam’s skin.
Liam didn’t trust his voice enough to speak, his throat feeling too tight.
Jacob’s gaze dragged over him, slow and unhurried, before he stepped close and caught the zipper of Liam’s hoodie.
The sound of it sliding down was almost indecent in the quiet.
The hoodie hit the floor with a dull whisper.
Jacob’s hands found the hem of his shirt next, pushing it upward, knuckles brushing ribs and leaving heat in their wake.
Liam’s breath caught. The shirt was cast aside, forgotten on the carpet.
“Fuck,” Jacob murmured, voice rough. “You’re beautiful.”
Liam flushed, words fumbling. “I’m not—”
“You are.” There was no hesitation in it, no space for doubt. His thumbs brushed Liam’s nipples and the shock of sensation nearly buckled his knees. Jacob’s mouth curved. “So sensitive.”
The next pinch was harder. Liam’s head tipped back, a needy sound escaping before he could catch it. Jacob’s mouth found his neck, teeth pressing into skin in a slow claiming bite. “I’m going to ruin you,” he rasped against the mark he left behind.
He stepped back, only far enough to look Liam over. “Strip.”
The command hit something deep inside him. His hands moved before his mind caught up—pants, boxers, everything hitting the floor in quiet succession. Every inch of him uncovered and exposed to the weight of Jacob’s stare.
“You’re shaking,” Jacob said, gaze dropping to Liam’s hard cock before climbing back to his face.
Liam nodded. He was, and there was no hiding it.
In one motion, Jacob shoved his sweats down, his cock swinging free. Liam’s breath caught in his throat. He’d touched him before in the dark, but the feeling hadn't prepared him for the sight. Thick, huge, and impossibly hard, the sheer visual of it made heat curl sharp in his gut.
Jacob closed the space between them until the warmth of his body sank into Liam’s bones. The kiss came hard, stealing breath and thought. Jacob’s mouth claimed his like it was owed. Liam melted into it, clinging to his shoulders, lost in the slide of mouths and the scrape of teeth.
When Jacob broke away, his lips didn’t go far. They trailed down his throat as a hand fisted in his hair, tilting his head exactly where he wanted it.
Jacob kissed like a man starved. Like he meant to destroy him, bruise him, own him from the inside out. Liam’s helpless moan split the air. Some part of him knew this would ruin him, yet he leaned into it anyway.
“On your knees.”
The command tore through his composure, and he instantly dropped to his knees. He’d never done this before, never even thought about it, but his hands were already wrapping around the thick length of Jacob’s cock. His mouth watered as he looked up, eyes wide.
Jacob smirked. “Open.”
God, he looked good like that. Like temptation personified.