Chapter 31
I’m a fool for this woman, a downright desperate man willing to do anything she wants. I don’t think I’ll ever get enough of her.
My name falls off her lips in a throaty whimper, and I watch her eyes burn when she looks at me. There’s a hunger, a want, a desire bubbling behind those dark eyes that I haven’t seen before tonight.
My hands work down her thighs, skimming the fabric of her jeans as I kneel. I grip the back of her knees and pull her to the end of the counter, and she gasps as her hands fall behind her to steady her body.
She’s gorgeous. And I’ve waited years to experience Demi like this. Fuck, I never even thought I’d be able to, but here she is in my kitchen, on my counter, choosing to be here with me.
“Lean back a little, Dem,” I grumble.
She does as I ask, reaching toward the button on her jeans to pull them down, but I place my hand over hers to stop her.
“No, no.” I grin. “I want to do it.”
Her cheeks tint pink and I watch as her lips part before I move my hands to replace hers.
Demi’s skin is warm to the touch and each time my fingers graze a new spot I notice goose bumps pop up.
Her head tilts back slightly as she’s breathing, and I slowly pull her jeans down, getting them completely off her body before placing my hands on her inner thighs, spreading her legs wider. What a goddamn sight she is.
“Oh, you forgot,” she says quickly gesturing to her underwear that I purposely left in place.
“I didn’t forget. Leave them,” I say as I skim my thumb over her.
Her body jerks at the touch as she sharply inhales.
“I have years of filthy thoughts all trying to come to life at this very moment, Dem. You have no fucking idea how much I’m going to enjoy this.”
She moans again, her hand resting on her lower stomach. I rise, bending over her body slightly as I press my lips near her belly button and trail down her stomach. I only hear her breathing. Her deep breaths and her labored gasps.
“Jesus, Liam.” She squirms as I hook a finger into her underwear, moving it to the side.
Seeing her like this already has me so fucking hard. She’s spread open for me and she’s dripping wet. I want nothing more than my tongue between her thighs. To hear her cries and feel her body writhe against me, knowing she’s coming undone because of me—of us.
I bring my lips to her center, kissing her gently. “Fuuuck, Dem,” I breathe against her. “Look at you.”
Without a single second of hesitation, I drag my tongue through her.
If her reaction tells me anything, it’s that she likes it.
She really fucking likes it. Her body pulls back and her head drops.
She lets out a gasp and then moans my name not once, but over and over as I continue to work my tongue over her.
I want to devour her. I want everything she has to offer.
With one hand on her inner thighs, I push her to open wider for me. My tongue pauses on her clit and I skim over her with my teeth before pulsing my tongue against her again. When I glance up at Demi, her chest is pounding, one hand is cupping her breast, and she’s rocking her hips fiercely.
I run my tongue over her again. Slow and steady, sucking when I reach her clit.
Over and over.
Until she screams, and I feel my own body jerk at the feeling of her coming apart all over my tongue.
She writhes against my face, and I happily lick every inch, every drop that she has before laying my lips on her inner thighs. She has no words, just sighs and deep breaths when I glance up at her. She’s sated and looks so fucking sexy.
I want one final taste as I work my tongue over her one last time before moving her underwear back in place.
“You tasted like you enjoyed that too.” I stand, dragging my thumb over the corner of my mouth, and she stares at my face before working her eyes down my body, noticing my own mess. “Look what you did to me.”
“I—” She stares, pausing as I adjust the waistband of my joggers.
I swear to god I could do this again. Right now if she wanted to.
“Seeing you like that, tasting you…” I blow out a breath, shaking my head. “I’m not shocked at all.”
She sits up straighter on the counter, jeans still on the floor near my feet and I reach down to grab them for her. Bunching up one of the pant legs, I take her foot and gently bring it through, repeating the same motion for the other.
“That was…wow.” Her chest is still moving up and down rapidly when I help her down. “I really don’t know what to say. Which is kind of annoying.” She laughs and I kiss the top of her head.
“I’ve rendered you—the reporter—speechless.”
“I guess so.” Her words are soft and teasing.
“Being with you like that…it was”—my hands cup her cheeks—“I loved every goddamn second.”
Her brows crease as she looks up at me. “Really?”
The surprise on her face shocks me. “How could I not?”
Demi blinks slowly, nestling the side of her face into my hand against her cheek. And all I can do is hope like hell we can do this again.
“I guess you’ll have to change again.” Her hand motions toward my pants, but her finger grazes the fabric and she pulls her hand away. “Sorry,” she adds quickly.
Looking down, I grin. “Please don’t be sorry about that.”
Her tongue coats her lips as she steps back and rolls her eyes with a smirk and she heads to the living room.
Everything in me thought for sure that she would book it to the front door after what just happened.
But she settles on the couch, pulling the blanket onto her lap and reaches for a puzzle piece.
I decide to change into a pair of shorts and then meet her in the living room where she already has a handful of new pieces put together.
Puzzles don’t usually take me this long, but I’m realizing how little I’m actually trying to complete the puzzle knowing it’s something we’ve been having fun doing together.
“Baggage for baggage,” I say as I take a seat on the floor right near where she’s seated on the couch.
“Go ahead.”
“My dad’s been reaching out for weeks, and I haven’t answered or returned any calls or texts. I just know whatever he has to say is going to piss me off.”
She sets the piece in her hand into place and then leans down, elbows to knees to face me easier.
“Have you always had a rocky relationship?”
I can talk to her about this. I know I can. She trusted me enough to open up about Brianna and things with Brandon. She’s a safe space.
“Yeah, actually. Certain years were better than others, but once I really got into football and playing professionally was a real possibility, it got so much worse.”
I feel Demi’s hand on my shoulder and she squeezes lightly. My hand finds hers and I hold it in place there.
“Everything I’ve ever covered about you or read somewhere, you started playing football young. Like eight or nine, right?”
“Around seven I started.”
“Jesus.” She sighs. “That’s just such a long time to have such a turbulent relationship with a parent.”
“Fucking tell me about it.” I blow out a breath.
“He won the Super Bowl when I was ten, and that’s when it got really bad.
Just the pressure he put on my brother and me was ridiculous.
I’ll never understand how anyone can put their own child, or any kid, really, through that kind of mental boot camp.
It was torture. I hated when he was at my games and practices for the most part. ”
“I understand why you don’t share this publicly, but it really hurts me to know you’ve had to talk about him your entire career without anyone knowing these things.”
Demi’s fingers slide around my shoulder and to my neck, and I melt into the way it feels to have her hands on me. It’s comforting and intimate and it’s everything I’ve never felt with anyone else.
“Yeah.” My throat clears and I lean my head back on the cushion of the couch, right next to where she’s sitting.
“My freshman year in high school, I wasn’t a starter—not that I was bothered by it.
I knew there were a lot of guys better than me.
But my dad?” I blow out a breath with a shake of my head.
“He embarrassed the fuck out of me with that coach. Almost made me not want to play. Of course he was charming in his way of going about it, basically making contributions to the team with new equipment, money, field help, anything he could do to butter them up. He made himself look like the world’s best dad.
But we’d get home, and I’d hear ‘look at all the strings I have to pull for you.’”
I feel my nose burn as I relive that memory.
“He pushed me so much. Even making it to the NFL, after shitting on me for not going in the first round. He still found ways to make my success his success. I mean, yeah, he coached me, and I do believe in good genes, whatever. But I worked. I studied. I proved myself. The success I have in my career is mine.” I don’t see the room around me right now.
It’s like I’m transported back to being fifteen, sitting in the locker room as the guys around me talked about my dad as if he was a superhero and I didn’t have the fucking stones to tell them otherwise.
“Hey.” I hear Demi’s voice and then I feel her hands on my face, her fingers against my stubble as she runs her thumbs on my cheeks. “Hey,” she whispers again, and I see her seated next to me on the floor. Worry written all over her face.
“Sorry.” I shake my head and clear my throat.
“No, we’re not apologizing right now. You have nothing to be sorry for. Okay?”
I nod, her hands still cupping my cheeks as I place my hands over hers, pulling her fingers into mine.
“It still gets me when I talk about it. Which isn’t often. It’s usually just with Dana.”
“Well, it’s only fair, right?” She chuckles lightly, leaning her head against my shoulder as we sit on the floor.
It’s dark out. Pitch black, actually, and I don’t even know what time it is since I haven’t been bothered to check a clock since she got here.
“What?”
“I share about my crappy ex-husband, you share about your crappy dad. Baggage for baggage, right?”
I turn my head, planting a kiss to her forehead. “Right.”
Sharing parts of my life with Demi feels so fucking easy.
Like it’s the most natural thing I do all day long.
Telling anyone about my dad—especially someone who has met him—would normally make me so fucking nervous and uneasy.
I used to think people wouldn’t even believe me if I shared all the mental bullshit he put me through.
The things he would say to me were tailored to break me.
To break my spirit and make me think that without him, I was nothing.
Opening up to Demi has given me this renewed belief in myself.
She makes me feel seen and appreciated in ways I’ve never experienced simply by how she listens.
Talking to her is easy and comforting—she’s compassionate and has such a warmth about her, but also has a fierce way of reminding me exactly who I am.
Something that’s easy for me to forget when I end up on the wrong side of a bad day.
It’s easy to spiral and let my mindset become turbulent.
She’s letting some of her walls down for me, yes, but she’s taking a crack at mine too, and at this point I just want to let them crumble.