Chapter 8 #3
Benson entrenched him between his thighs.
The impact jarred Liam's teeth and rattled the breath from his lungs. But he never broke the kiss. He ground his thigh against Benson’s.
Each thrust was an accusation. Why did you leave me?
Why did you let me go? Hard denim scraped against the comfortable linen of Benson’s lounge pants, a friction that was almost too much.
Benson’s hands were everywhere, tearing at Liam’s jacket, shoving it from his shoulders, fumbling with the buttons of his shirt.
He was desperate. His palms were rough, scraping over Liam’s chest, pinching a nipple hard enough to make him cry out into the kiss.
It was pain, and it was poetry. The violence of it was a language they had both forgotten, a dialect of hurt and longing that only they could speak.
Liam clawed at Benson’s back, feeling the solid muscle beneath the thin cotton of his shirt.
He remembered this body. Every ridge, every scar, every shudder.
He remembered how it felt to have it covering him, inside him.
Benson broke away, panting, his forehead pressed against Liam’s. His eyes were wild, dark, burning with something terrifyingly close to tears. "You goddamn bastard.”
"Look who's talking," Liam shot back.
Then Benson was kissing him again, softer this time.
His lips were bruised, tender, but the kiss was slow, deep, and searching.
This wasn't a fight anymore. He cradled Liam’s face in his hands, thumbs stroking his cheekbones, a gesture so tender, so intimate, it hurt worse than the impact with the wall.
This was the apology he’d never given. This was the love he'd been too scared to name. Liam felt the fight drain out of him, replaced by a crushing, overwhelming ache. He kissed him back with everything he had, pouring all the sorrow, all the anger, all the desperate, stupid hope he’d tried to kill years ago into that one connection.
This was the man he was going to marry. The man who had destroyed him.
The man he still, impossibly, loved. And for a single, stolen moment, that was the only truth in the world.
The fight was over. The war was won. Liam knew it the second Benson's kiss turned soft. He'd broken him. Finally torn through all that bullshit, all that pride and fear, and found the man underneath. The man he still loved. The man who still loved him.
He didn't give himself a chance to think or second-guess.
To remember all the reasons this was a terrible, catastrophic idea.
Liam just dropped. His knees hit the cold, hard tile of the kitchen floor with a dull thud, the sound swallowed by the frantic rhythm of their breathing.
He didn't hesitate. He reached for the waistband of Benson's loungewear.
Benson stiffened but didn't stop him. He didn't say a damn word.
Liam tugged the fabric down, just enough, until he had Benson in his hand. The heat of him was a shock. He smelled like Benson. A scent Liam had tried to scrub from his memory for five years. One that now flooded his senses and made him dizzy with want.
He leaned in. The first touch of his tongue was a question.
Do you remember? The slow, deliberate circle around the head was a statement.
I remember everything. Then Liam took him in, deep, all the way to the back of his throat.
He'd always been good at this. Prideful, even.
He loved the power of it, the control. Loved the way he could make Benson die with just his mouth.
Benson's hands flew to the edge of the island counter, knuckles white as he gripped the granite for support.
He threw his head back, the cords in his neck standing out as he struggled to withstand the pleasure.
A guttural moan escaped him. He was completely exposed.
Vulnerable. And he was letting Liam do this.
Letting him take him apart, piece by piece.
Liam worked him with a fierce, single-minded focus.
This wasn't about finesse. It was about reclaiming what was lost, what was stolen.
He could feel Benson's thighs trembling, the muscles in his stomach clenching.
He was close. So close already. And that knowledge, that absolute, undeniable power, sent a surge of triumph through Liam.
He looked up. Benson was watching him, his face a mask of raw, agonized pleasure. Their gazes locked. And in that split second, the world narrowed to just the two of them. The years fell away. The hurt, the anger, the other woman – everything dissolved into nothing. There was only this. Only them.
Benson's hips jerked forward. A hoarse cry burst from his throat as he came. Liam took it. I did that. After five years, Liam still had this power. He still had him. And the smug, victorious thought that echoed in the sudden silence was the only thing that mattered. I still win.
It was over almost as soon as it began. Because I know him better than anybody. Better than Sydney had. Better than Eden did. No one on Earth knew Benson’s body like Liam did. And vice versa. Fuck them both.
Liam got up, eschewing a kiss and the hands coming for him. When Benson grunted something, Liam tuned him out, picking up his bag and heading toward the door again.
“Hey!” Benson put himself back in his pants before pushing himself up. “Where are you going? Don’t tell me you’re not hard, too!”
Liam didn’t have a problem with that, honestly. “I’ll take care of it at home. I better go.” He hesitated at the door. Benson did not come closer. “Save it for when we have an audience.”
“What the…”
Liam opened the door and was gone before Benson could come after him. I proved what I set out to do. Not just that Benson still wanted him… but that he could still want Benson, too.
Maybe even for Eden’s sake. Otherwise, how would this ever work out?
Because I love her, too, Ben. And Liam wouldn’t quietly slink away into the twilight when Benson tried to marry Eden, let alone move her into his apartment. And he would. When Benson Smith fell, he created a crater when he landed. Liam was still licking his wounds.
The elevator door closed behind him. In the few seconds he had to himself, Liam curled his hands against the wall and pressed his forehead against them, stilling the thoughts in his head. But he couldn’t quiet his heart.
I love her. I won’t let him have her all to himself. He opened his eyes, nostrils flaring, the taste of Benson still in his mouth. I still love him.
At least he could admit it.
“The thing you guys don’t understand about jeans,” Eden said as she flopped back onto his bed wearing pajama shorts with her T-shirt, “is that the female form expands and contracts throughout the day, let alone the month.”
“You’re right.” Liam, quite comfortable in his jeans, was propped up against the headboard as they watched his bedroom TV late in the evening. “I don’t usually deal with that outside of Thanksgiving.”
Eden gazed up at him, her hair flying around her face when she eventually turned over onto her back. “Must be nice.”
“I’m not complaining about you tossing your jeans onto the floor. More skin is always welcome in my house.”
He popped a cracker into his mouth as he continued to watch an episode of Andor.
Had Eden caught on that he was a bit of a Star Wars nerd yet?
Because if Benson gave five fucks about Battlestar Galactica, then he could tolerate Liam being into Star Wars since he was a little boy with a bright red Darth Maul lightsaber.
Eden, however, cuddled up to him and patted his stomach through his turtleneck.
“Says the man who is still fully clothed.”
“Ah, well, that happens. Guess I’m tired today.”
“Too tired to take off your clothes?”
“Is that what you want, love? For me to get naked?”
“Mm, eventually.”
She reached for the handful of crackers he had grabbed. After he dropped a couple into her fingers, they sat in silence, watching TV and indulging in the kind of quiet domesticity that Liam appreciated more often than not. Every night doesn’t have to be a party. Although he did love a good party.
“Actually, there’s something I wanted to talk to you about.”
It was a good thing Liam already knew this episode inside and out, because that sounded like, “So, pause your nerdy show and listen to me.” Something Liam could do, especially thanks to the invention of streaming services.
“What’s up?” he asked, after putting the remote back down.
She sat up, threading her fingers through her hair as she made herself comfortable. “I’m telling you first. So, anything we say here, you can’t tell Benson until I’ve had the chance.”
Liam knew it probably wasn’t this simple, but a man couldn’t help his first thought. “You’re pregnant.”
She smacked him on the arm. “No. I’m serious. Let me speak first.”
“I just needed to get that out of the way. Continue, please.”
He could tell that he had thrown her for a loop with his chiding. Nevertheless, Eden was the kind of woman who could pull herself together again without missing a beat.
“The resort has invited me back for their next event.” She cleared her throat. “To be a Butterfly.”
Honestly, that was his next guess, but he figured it would get him in even bigger trouble than asking if she was pregnant.
I mean, when two guys are going at you like that, even with the best birth control…
It was a miracle none of their girlfriends had ever gotten pregnant, let alone by accident. That I know of…
“Well, of course you did,” he said. “You were a fantastic Butterfly. I should know.”
The tension eased from Eden’s shoulders, but she still sighed. “I’m serious. It’s so much money for one weekend’s work.”
“I know it is.”
“You’re not mad, are you?”
“What? That you were invited back? I’d be more annoyed if you didn’t make the cut.”
“I know how some guys can be. Plus, you know what La Mariposa is like.”