Chapter 19
LIAM
It’s either very late or very early, depending on how you look at it.
I haven’t slept, not with Emma cuddling up beside me, sound asleep in a sort of self-protective fetal position.
She’s beautiful. I can’t stop looking at her.
The curve of her hip, the graceful length of her neck. Her wild curls spilling across the pillow and nearly hiding her face. One hand tucked beneath her cheek. The slow, steady rise and fall of her chest as she breathes.
I gently brush her hair from her face, pressing a soft kiss to her temple.
God, she’s so precious to me.
Always has been.
Always will be.
We had sex three times today, last night? Sometime in between.
Time stopped making sense the moment I touched her.
I couldn’t get enough. Still can’t.
She seemed just as caught up in it as I was, like we’d fallen under some kind of spell.
I lay there stewing over the fact that Emma had to see that standoff with Marcus O’Rear. The only reason it didn’t end in blood was that two armed Russians happened to show up and scare him off.
What if they hadn’t?
What would she have seen then?
I don’t want her anywhere near this. She deserves a life untouched by my chaos.
Talia’s not wrong. I drag Emma down.
She used to be an artist—a damn good one. Sculptor, painter, the whole deal. Then she met me, and somewhere along the way, that part of her life disappeared.
Why?
Why did being with me mean giving up the thing that lit her up inside?
And now?
What can I even offer her? I’m a pro athlete, sure, but you wouldn’t know it by the look of my life.
No savings.
No security. Crashing at my dad’s rundown house like some washed-up burnout.
I should have my shit together.
Instead, I’m still shackled to the past like it’s velcroed to my damn skin
I’ve missed her so damn much. And now, she’s here, we still fit like we always did. Like no time passed at all. But there’s still so much I don’t know. So much we haven’t said.
Maybe that doesn’t matter.
We’re not kids anymore. We’ve both been through shit, lived our own lives. And somehow, we still found our way back to each other. Maybe I don’t need all the answers.
I can figure this mess out with Nik’s help, with some luck, with a lot of work. Perhaps I can still become someone she deserves. Someone she can count on.
I want that. More than anything. She was all I ever wanted. Emma is like sunlight, and I just feel better when I’m around her.
I’m so lost in my own thoughts, I don’t even realize she’s awake until I feel her fingertip brush the space between my brows, the spot that always crinkles when I’m overthinking.
“You’re gonna get wrinkles,” she says. “All that brooding.”
“Brooding,” I scoff. “I’m not brooding.”
“Oh, please,” she teases, her voice light. “You’re the broodiest of brood boys. Always have been. It’s kind of your thing. But honestly, still sexy.”
I huff a humorless laugh, reaching across her body to pull her closer. “Yes, my life is a total fucking mess, and the mafia is literally at my front door. Super fuckin’ sexy.”
She shrugs a shoulder. Her cheeks go pink. God, I fucking love that.
“Why are you blushing?” I ask.
“We’re, uh, still naked.”
I wiggle my eyebrows, and she giggles, a little shy. I put a finger under her chin and made her look at me.
“Hey. Don’t ever be embarrassed around me. Last night was perfect.”
She licks her lips and gives me a grin. “It was pretty spectacular.”
“Well, I mean, minus the parts that came after having three mafia goons on my lawn. That part wasn’t awesome.”
“Okay, fair. But Liam, it’s okay. I might have been freaked out if you hadn’t told me about what’s going on. But you did, and everything was fine.”
“It could have been...not fine.”
“But it was fine. So let’s let it go. We had a great night together, and I’m thankful for it. I missed you. I missed this. And there’s always a solution, right? Let’s sit down and talk it through; maybe we can figure out a plan. Together.”
My heart hurts at her words.
The fact that she would want to help me figure out how to get out of the situation my dad put me in is so Emma. She has always been a helper, a critical thinker, and a problem solver, especially for me.
But this isn’t her problem to solve; it’s mine.
“What your sister said—”
“My sister’s protective,” she cuts in, gently but firmly. “Always has been. And I love her for it. But she doesn’t get to decide how I feel, Liam.”
I nod, but the weight in my chest doesn’t ease.
“She’s not wrong, though. Emma, I’m not good for you.
I never was. All those years ago, you were the one keeping me afloat when it should’ve been the other way around.
And now? We’re adults. You’ve got a career, a child.
A life that doesn’t need my shit interfering. ”
“What are you saying?” she asks, her voice suddenly tight.
“Maybe this was a—”
“Don’t you dare say what I think you’re going to say.”
I swallow hard. “A mistake.”
Her jaw clenches, her eyes flashing. “Bullshit, Liam.”
I open my mouth, but she steamrolls right over me.
“You know that’s bullshit. We’ve been talking for weeks, opening up. This wasn’t just sex. We still have whatever it has always been between us. It’s all still there, and you know it.”
She sits up, the sheet slipping down her back. “I should’ve never walked away back then. I thought I was doing the right thing. I tried to start over, to forget you, but the second I saw you again, it all came rushing back. And I don’t want to live with regret anymore.”
I let out a breath I think I’ve been holding for six years. She regrets walking away. It doesn’t undo everything, but it’s a beginning.
“Don’t push me away,” she says, more quietly now. “It won’t work.”
She rolls out of bed and stands, naked and determined, with her chin held high.
“I’m going to take a shower,” she says. “Then I’m making us breakfast before I go.”
She walks to the bathroom and shuts the door behind her.
A few minutes later, the shower kicks on.
I stare at the ceiling, heart pounding, mind spinning. Then I force myself out of bed.
I throw on a pair of shorts and glance around the place. It’s not bad, but it’s not impressive either—bare bones, bachelor-core. A couple of shirts are on the chair, and some dishes are in the sink.
I toss the laundry into the hamper and head into the kitchen to do the dishes.
She doesn’t need to see just how much of a mess I still am.
Emma is in the shower long enough that I think about joining her; maybe she’s in there waiting for me.
But no.
She shut the door instead of leaving it open, which would have been a sign that she needed space.
Plus, we went at it pretty hard last night. She might be sore.
Hell, I’m sore.
And even if I want nothing more than to slide in behind her and press a kiss to the curve of her neck, I’m still not sure this isn’t all a terrible idea, mainly because I don’t want her to have to deal with my bullshit.
When I head back into the bedroom, she’s just coming out, steam pouring from the bathroom.
She’s wrapped in a towel, another twisted high around that glorious mess of curls. Her skin is still dewy from the steam, flushed and glowing as she walks straight out of a fantasy.
Bare legs. Bare shoulders. The soft curve of her collarbone.
The sight of her hits me like a freight train.
My cock goes from zero to full fuck yes in a single breath.
And of course, I’m wearing just a pair of basketball shorts. No boxers. No mercy.
There’s no hiding it.
“Do you have, like, a...” Her sentence trails off as she sees the massive hard-on I’m sporting. “...A, um...do you have a t-shirt and some sweatpants I can borrow?”
I clear my throat. “Yep. Yeah. Sure. Just let me...” as I turn and dig through drawers like I’ve forgotten how my hands work, brain fully short-circuited by the sight of her and the ache between my legs.
I finally grab something that might be a T-shirt and maybe sweatpants—honestly, I’m too distracted to care.
When I turn back around, words die in my throat.
“Oops,” Emma says innocently. “Dropped my towel.”
The towels are gone. And she stands naked in front of me, her wet hair dripping water down her curvaceous body in ways that make me very, very thirsty.
An involuntary groan rumbles out of my throat, and my cock only grows harder, painfully so.
“This isn’t fair,” I say, holding up my hands in defeat or warning or who the hell knows.
All of that shyness is gone. She stalks toward me, grinning wickedly. “You know what, Liam? Sometimes life isn’t fair.”
She drops to her knees. Pulls my basketball shorts down. Grasps my cock with one hand while looking up at me with her beautiful eyes.
“And sometimes it’s really, really, extra fair.”
Every doubt, every fear, every rational thought disappears the moment her perfect pink lips wrap around the head of my cock.
My whole body tenses. One hand grips the dresser behind me, the other grabs her damp curls; she’s undoing me.
Completely.
Her mouth is warm and wet and perfect, and the way she looks up at me while she takes me deeper?
Fuck.
My knees nearly buckle.
“Emma…”I rasp out her name, hoarse and reverent. “You’re killing me.”
But she keeps going, fast and hungry, like she wants to memorize the taste of me. And I let her.
I let her take every ounce of control I have, because watching her is the sexiest goddamn thing I’ve ever seen.
“I can’t take it anymore. I want to fuck you, baby.” I hiss, then scoop her into my arms.
“Yeah!” She gasps, smiling against my neck, and wraps her legs around me like she’s meant to be there.
Her eyes are wild and dark and desperate, and mine probably look the same.
Holding onto her thighs, I lower her hot, tight, already soaked pussy onto my spun, throbbing cock. And we both gasp like it’s the first time all over again.
“You’re so wet for me, Emma.” My voice is thick with desire. “I can’t get enough of you.”
I back her toward the wall, kissing her like she’s oxygen. Her fingers clutch at my shoulders, pulling me closer, until there’s not a breath of space left between us.
I pound relentlessly into her sleek heat, right into the center of that gravity that pulls me in deeper.
She moans my name as I grip her hips tighter. “You feel so fucking perfect, Em. I swear I’d stay inside you forever if I could.”