Chapter 30
“You know what the craziest part about everything is?” I laugh to myself, finding actual humor in the whole situation now.
“Hmm?”
“Remember when you and I first met?”
His brow raises and his perfectly sharp jawline twitches as he grins.
“It was a Friday—”
“Okay,” I say, interrupting him with a laugh.
“Of course I do.”
“I wasn’t wearing an engagement ring because we were working on things at that time.”
“But you still called him your fiancé?” he questions, no judgment in his tone, just curiosity.
“Technically, we were engaged, but a week before that event I found out he kissed some random girl at a bar. He apologized left and right, cried, and begged me to forgive him for his mistake.”
“Dammit,” he mutters, lowering his head.
“So, like an idiot, I did, and we stayed engaged, then got married, only for him to do it all over again years later.” I laugh as I shrug.
“I should have known. But anyway, there were a lot of things we didn’t agree on completely before we got married, and I should have been stronger and left sooner. ”
“Like what?” he hesitates.
I sigh, because bringing this up to anyone always makes people judge me.
“Kids,” I whisper, fidgeting with my fingers. “We never really agreed on kids. I mean, I thought we did, but I was wrong.”
“He didn’t want kids?” Liam asks, and I softly chuckle. I don’t blame him for assuming that’s the case, most women want children.
“I don’t think I want them.” Saying this out loud used to cause me shame.
I used to feel so unworthy as a woman knowing I didn’t feel the urge for children.
I love kids, but I’ve never pictured myself being a mom.
Which was a very difficult conversation to have with my own mother.
It took her time to understand, and I get it—having children is an important part of life the way she was raised.
I think my abuela is still secretly holding out that I’ll change my mind, though.
It was a conversation Brandon and I had early on, and I truly thought we were on the same page. Over the years, he changed his mind, and rather than telling me he changed his mind, he slept with someone else instead.
“Oh,” Liam says. “I’m sorry for assuming the opposite, that was fucked up on my part.”
I wave my hand, shaking it back and forth. “No, you’re totally fine. I realize it’s not the norm.”
“So he cheated on you because he wanted kids and you didn’t?”
I shrug. “I think that was part of it. We were on the same page at first, but he changed his mind. I don’t blame him for changing his mind. But he handled it poorly.”
“Understatement of the fucking year.”
I grow silent, replaying one of our conversations we had before filing for divorce. I saw Brandon’s remorse. He was sorry he cheated, but his mind changed and mine hadn’t. Being together was no longer fair for either of us.
Liam’s head tilts, his eyes searching for mine as he says, “Hey, Dem.” He looks at me with a soft smile. So genuine and authentic.
“Your significance and worth isn’t tied to becoming a mother or not. It doesn’t define you or make you any less complete. It’s nobody’s business how you live your life, and if you decide kids aren’t part of your story, then so be it.”
My lips part and my eyes well up. No one has ever had that response to my admission. Not even my mother. Our biggest argument ever came from me telling her I didn’t think I wanted children.
“You’re perfect exactly as you are. Kids or no kids. And fuck anyone who is unkind to you over that very personal decision.”
I don’t know what to even say to him. I just nod, keeping eye contact.
“And say the word, I’ll knock his teeth out. He might be taller than me, but I’m scrappy as hell.”
That earns a laugh from me.
“Not necessary, but I really appreciate the offer. Honestly.” I smile. “My marriage was a lesson, and lessons are good. So I’m good.”
“Promise?”
The blanket spans over both of our legs at this point, and I feel his knee brush against mine as I’m sitting crisscross. I nudge his knee and he stills, looking at me before dipping his chin.
“Pinky promise,” I reply, holding up my finger and he extends his hand, hooking his pinky with mine.
The last thing I want to continue doing right now is discussing my ex when I’m seated next to Liam.
He’s opposite Brandon in every way imaginable.
My eyes linger on his hands, taking note of the size and strength before I trail up his forearms. I shouldn’t be ogling over his body right now; it feels unprofessional, but I’m not at work.
And I’ve already kissed him. I’ve already pictured him in various scenarios that don’t involve a mic and a football field.
So any line I’m worried about crossing with my eyes, I’ve already crossed with my mind. My big, brilliant, horny mind.
This time it’s my phone that vibrates on the coffee table, and I glance down to see my mom’s picture coming up on the screen.
“It’s my mom,” I say as I reach over to silence the noise.
“You can answer it,” he says as he rises from the couch. “I’ll be right back.”
I watch as he walks to a room at the end of the hall before shaking my head out of the daze.
“Hi, Mom,” I answer, joy laced in my voice.
“Hi, mi amor, I haven’t talked to you all day. I just wanted to see how you’re doing.”
Holding the phone between my ear and shoulder, I give her the briefest rundown on the last twenty-four hours, omitting the fact that I’m seated in Liam’s apartment because I don’t have time for all the questions I know will follow.
As she’s telling me about something happening with one of their neighbors, Liam walks out of the room I assume is his bedroom.
He’s changed his clothes completely. And he looks just as hot.
If not hotter than before. Gray joggers and a Spider-Man T-shirt.
It’s cute and a little nerdy, but I love everything about it.
My mom and I end the call as he’s in the kitchen, and I get up to walk toward him.
“You changed.” My eyes stutter on the joggers.
He nods. “Want to watch a movie or finish the puzzle? Or we can keep talking too.”
“I assumed seeing you in your jammies means you’re ready for me to leave so you can get to bed.”
“I don’t sleep in this,” he says as he smirks, taking one of the cups from the sink and placing it in the dishwasher.
I roll my eyes at what he’s insinuating and playfully push his arm.
“And I don’t want to go to sleep yet. I want to spend time with you.”
“Okay.” My cheeks feel warm as I lean against the counter, watching him do the second most domestic thing I’ve seen all night.
Once he finishes loading the dishwasher, his attention turns to me. Eyes blazing as he works them up and down my frame.
“If you want to get more comfortable, you can change into some of my clothes,” he offers.
“I live next door,” I say, tipping my head toward my apartment. “I could always go grab something of mine.”
“Or you could wear mine. You’d look hot in my clothes, Dem.”
“Clothes are for overnight guests, Liam. I’m not your overnight guest. I’m your—”
“What? What are you? Finish that sentence.” His voice is smooth as he crosses his arms over his chest. The Spider-Man logo popping out over his forearms.
“We’re—I don’t know exactly. Hanging out? I don’t know, Liam. I’ve quite literally only been with one man my entire life so I don’t actually know what to call someone who is my friend but I also like to kiss—even though I probably shouldn’t.”
With my back against the countertop, he comes closer, his body directly in front of mine and I look up to make eye contact with him.
He drops his arms to his sides, and I want them on me.
I want his touch. His taste. His warmth.
I may not know what the hell to classify this as, but I don’t think I care right now.
“A friend you like to kiss is often referred to as a friend with benefits,” he whispers when he leans in and goose bumps overtake me.
“Except, I’m not sure I like that term when it comes to you.
It doesn’t feel strong enough. Because with you, Dem, I feel it down to my bones.
A longing, a connection, a desire that can’t possibly be summed up as friends with benefits. ”
I swallow the lump in my throat. “Thank you for clearing that up,” I whisper back, heart racing.
“I could kiss you right now—as an example. But only if you want.” He inches closer, and I inhale his scent.
My breathing picks up and I can feel the heat building in my belly.
“I am a hands-on learner,” I respond breathlessly.
Before I can think my next thought, his lips are on me. Hungry. Starved. His hands pull at my hips, bringing me closer to him as I moan into his mouth. His body pushes against mine and his tongue swipes over my lips in the most teasing way.
A desperate groan leaves his chest. The neediness. The desire. I feel every ounce of it as Liam’s mouth moves against mine.
I’m aching for more. But too afraid to ask for it as I lightly suck the tip of his tongue, earning a low growl from his chest.
His hands rake over my body until they’re cupping the back of my thighs and he lifts me onto the counter. I gasp when I hit the marble. He made that feel swift, effortless even. The aching only grows with each passing moment, and I don’t know how to tell him I want more. I need more.
I’m almost certain he’s holding himself back too. For someone who is frequently known as a ‘gets what he wants playboy’ socially, Liam doesn’t push anything on me. And at this moment, I find myself wishing maybe he wasn’t such a gentleman after all.
He brings a hand to my hair, gripping as he glides it down the side of my neck and to the base of my throat. I feel his fingers against my skin as he leans in even more to deepen the kiss.
I can’t control it any longer when I bring my hands to the waistband of his joggers, dipping my fingers just underneath and pulling him even closer against me, my legs spread wider.
“Fuck,” he breathes against my lips when he pulls away briefly.
“Liam,” I whimper his name into his mouth, my breath heavy and arousal building.
Taking his thumb, he runs the pad of it over my bottom lip as he gives me a devilish smirk.
And then, he kneels.