26. Liam
Liam
Amy's a flight risk.
I've been planning our reunion since before we parted ways in Monterey. Now, I'm moving in to the house across the street from her.
She rents, so she's liable to run if she feels trapped. I have to ease into it somehow.
Can't start with a marriage proposal. She'll run.
Can't ask to move in. She'll run.
Can't ask her to move in. She'll run.
Can't ask to date. She'll run.
Amy likes to pretend she's capable of forever, but she's too scared of rejection to ever open up.
The only thing I can think of is crinkling in my back pocket, waiting for the right time to whip it out.
I'm sweating, but it isn't from bringing in boxes and furniture. No, there's a hell of a lot more to it.
A n x i e t y .
It's a bitch.
So when Amy runs into me, walking home with Lucky, I feel a little relief that this moment is finally here.
It's time for this to get done.
Better than lying awake sleepless for two months.
Thank God, she's still been playing Shadow Ops. Her movements are more aggressive than ever, and I can't risk voice chat—I muted myself and told her my headset was broken, a simple lie that she didn't bother second-guessing—so, while she's had two months without me, I've been basking in the hours we spend slaughtering zombies every night.
AmYDeadYet has become very fond of Trickshot999.
It makes me feel a little guilty that I never followed up and told her everything. Hopefully that won't bite me in the ass today.
"What are you doing here?" she asks, in the rudest welcome.
"I'm moving in."
"Clearly. But why here?"
Telling her because you are will probably… make her run.
So I shrug. "Work. The company's founded here, remember?"
"Oh. Right."
I can see it in the way her brow furrows, the way her teeth dig into her bottom lip as she nibbles on it. She's thinking this is all some sort of coincidence.
Oh, angel.
It's not.
"Do you have some time?" I ask, because the longer I give her time to think, the higher the likelihood of a run.
I've given her two months. I'm not giving her another second more.
She nods, a single jerk of her head, before she turns and leads the way to her front door. My heart races, pounding against my ribs as I follow her. This is it. My chance.
Don't fuck it up, Liam.
The door swings open and Lucky races inside, nails clicking on the hardwood floors. Amy kicks off her shoes and I follow suit, my eyes roaming her body as she bends to line them up neatly on the mat. The urge to reach out and touch her, to pull her back against me and feel her warmth, is nearly overwhelming.
"Tea?" She glances over her shoulder at me, already moving toward the kitchen.
"Sure." I trail after her, my gaze drifting over the sway of her hips, the tumble of her hair down her back. Fuck, I've missed her. Missed the way she moves, the sound of her voice, the way she smells. Like cupcakes and rainbows and then something sexy and dark underneath.
Like Amy.
She busies herself with the kettle, reaching up to grab mugs from the cupboard. Her shirt rides up, revealing a strip of smooth skin at her waist.
Yeah. I want to lick all over that.
"How have you been?" I lean against the counter, watching her. She shrugs, not looking at me.
"Fine. Busy with work." She drops tea bags into the cups, her motions jerky. Nervous.
I hope she's also thinking about how much I want to bend her over the counter and fuck her, tea be damned.
"That's good. I've been busy too. With the move and everything."
She hums, a noncommittal sound, and pours steaming water into the mugs. The scent of chamomile fills the air, soothing. She slides a mug across the counter to me and I wrap my hands around it, letting the heat seep into my skin.
We stand there in silence, sipping our tea. I watch her over the rim of my mug, taking in the dark circles under her eyes, the tension in her shoulders. She looks tired. Worn down.
She misses me.
Good.
"Amy..." I set my mug down, taking a step toward her. She tenses, her grip tightening on her own mug. "I've missed you."
She looks up at me, her green eyes wary. "Oh?"
"I've come to a conclusion."
Suspicion flashes over her face.
"I think we need more than a week. Give it a little trial run. See how things go."
Her head tilts in a way that's so fucking adorable, I want to eat her up. "A trial run."
"Yes." I grab the paper in my back pocket, handing it to her. "A contract. We can get it notarized if you want. A full year of real dating. At least one date night a week. In exchange, I can't touch you without permission. I can't fall in love with you without permission. I'm not allowed to spend the night without permission. I can't steal your dog. I can't propose. Everything has to be on your terms."
Of course, the caveat is always without her permission .
I plan on getting it. For everything.
She takes the contract, reading it through.
She's agonizingly slow, inspecting every line.
"You want… a contract relationship. With me." She looks up, her brows furrowed. "On purpose."
"Yes."
"Why?"
"Because." I step forward, the thrill of victory snaking through my limbs when she doesn't tense. "I want to be with you for more than a brief summer story. I want our story to start with a hilarious meeting and end when we're both dead and buried."
"I want to be cremated."
"Or end when our ashes mingle in the wind, laid to rest in the ocean together."
"Actually, I want to plant a tree with my ashes."
"Okay, we can end as trees together."
"What if your tree dies?"
"Then I'll fertilize yours."
She taps the contract on her other palm, looking wary. "So, all this flowery bullshit is to say that you love me?"
"Yes."
"And this contract…" She waves it. "Is to, what? What's the purpose of this?"
"To put the power in your hands. I don't want you to run off. It'll be in black and white. You have all the power, angel. I'll give you everything."
She looks at the contract again.
Snorts.
"This is the stupidest fucking shit I've ever seen."
I grin. "That's fine. As long as you sign it."
"Hah." She looks at me again, trying to figure me out.
I need to come clean.
"Amy…"
"Oh, shit." She straightens in a flash, her face shuttered. "I recognize that tone. That's what men do right before they tell you how much they've fucked up."
"No, no." I rush forward, pulling her into my arms. She hasn't signed the paperwork yet, so I'm not cheating. I'm not breaking any rules. "Listen. I might have fucked up a little bit, but to be fair, I tried to tell you."
"Tell me?" she asks suspiciously, her body tense as she pushes out of my arms and puts a few steps between us.
Fuck. All kinds of dirty, erotic thoughts are populating my brain. I need my intellect right now. Not my dick.
I need to convince her to stay.
I take a deep breath, steeling myself. "My username. I tried to tell you. It's Trickshot."
Amy's brows knit together in confusion, her green eyes searching my face. "Okay? And?"
Shit. She doesn't get it. I run a hand through my hair, my heart pounding. "My username is Trickshot. It's my alias from my pro gaming days. When I don't want to be found, I switch it up a little. Trickshot999."
Amy stares at me, her lips parted. Seconds tick by, each one an eternity.
And she stares.
And stares.
Fuck. I shift my weight, resisting the urge to look away. "We've been playing together every night. And—no, I didn't know who you were at first. I found out later."
Her eyes widen as she finishes processing. "You..." She shakes her head slowly. "You're Trick? This whole time?"
I nod, my throat tight. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner. I did try, though."
She nods. "Yeah. You did."
The silence has me shifting my weight. Sweat pours down my back. It's fucking hot, even in her air conditioning.
"You said your headset was broken."
"I lied. I didn't want you to find out that way. Figured you'd recognize my voice right away after a week together."
"Ah."
Quiet again.
"You know, when we first met in Monterey, I had this weird feeling like I was cheating on my internet boyfriend because I thought you were so hot."
Okay, that wasn't what I was expecting. It sounds promising, though, so I step closer. "Yeah?"
"I had a total crush on you and the way you handle zombies." This time, she steps closer.
We're not that far apart. I could easily yank her into my arms. Kiss her breathless. Devour her.
But I keep my hands down.
"I had one, too. When I realized you were my internet crush, all I wanted to do is tie you down."
Ah, shit. Too real. Need to let that stuff out in small doses.
Flight risk. Gotta remember she's a flight risk.
Amy turns away, contract in hand, heading into the kitchen. I can hear drawers open and shut.
She finally comes back, tossing the contract at my chest. "Signed. Sealed. Delivered. One year, Liam. You have one year to convince me we need to stay together forever."
"One year." I lean in to kiss her, but stop when our lips are a sliver apart. "Can I kiss you, my sweet angel?"
Her laughter is what finally does it, letting relief and joy and terror flow freely, a cocktail of emotions I can't quite decipher.
She said yes.
Like it's nothing. Like this moment isn't life-altering. World-shattering.
My throat is tight. "You sure about this, Amy? Because there's no going back. I don't give up on anything I want."
"You really need to ask?" Her voice is husky, teasing. Green eyes sparkle with mischief and something deeper. Desire. Need.
I cup her face in my hands, thumbs brushing over the delicate lines of her cheekbones. Memorizing every curve and hollow. The smattering of freckles across her nose. The way her lashes flutter against her cheeks as her eyes drift shut.
"I want to be sure," I murmur, lips a hairsbreadth from hers. "I need you to be sure."
"Liam." My name on her tongue sends a shiver down my spine. "Kiss me."
I obey. Like I have any other choice. Like I could ever deny her anything.
Her lips are soft. Pliant. Parting on a sigh as I lick into her mouth. She tastes like tea and honey and something uniquely Amy. Something I could drown in and die happy.
This woman has my life in her hands.
Her fingers curl into my shirt, tugging me closer. I go willingly, molding my body to hers. Chest to chest. Hips to hips. Every inch of us aligned.
Perfect. Like two puzzle pieces finally slotting into place.
She nips at my bottom lip and I groan. My hands slide down her back to palm the sweet curve of her ass. Squeezing. Kneading. Reveling in the feel of her.
Fuck, I've missed this. Missed her. The taste of her. The scent of her. The sounds she makes when I touch her just right.
I walk her backwards, crowding her against the wall, loving that little gasp when her back hits the plaster. The sound shoots straight to my cock.
"Liam." Breathy. Needy. Fuck, I love when she says my name like that. Like a prayer and a curse, all rolled into one.
I wedge a thigh between her legs, rocking into her, feeling the heat of her through our clothes. She's already soaked through.
Fuck.
"Tell me what you want, angel." I punctuate the words with a roll of my hips. Grinding against her. Letting her feel how hard I am. How much I want her.
Always. Forever.
"You." She arches into me, nails digging crescents into my shoulders. "I want you."
Three words I'll never tire of hearing. I'd carve them into my skin if I could, a permanent reminder.
If only tattoos came with a recording of her voice.
It would be proof that she's mine. That this is real.
My lips find her throat, kissing, licking. Scraping her skin with my teeth. She tilts her head back, giving me access—offering herself up like a sacrifice to an ancient god.
I'm a greedy deity starving for the taste of her. The feel of her.
I suck at that soft spot where her pulse flutters, hard enough to leave a mark.
Mine. Mine. Mine.
"Bedroom," she pants, fingers tangling in my hair. Tugging. Desperate. "Now."
Far be it from me to deny her. I hoist her up, hands cupping her ass. Her legs wrap around my waist, those delicate little ankles locking at the small of my back.
If I had it my way, she'd never have to walk anywhere again.
I carry her down the hall. Lucky dances around our feet. I nudge her aside with my foot.
Not now, buddy. Daddy's busy.
The bedroom door slams shut behind us, leaving the little fluffball behind. Indignant barks don't faze either of us as I tumble her onto the bed. Amy lands with a bounce and a giggle, her gorgeous blonde curls fanning out across the pillow.
Cheeks flushed. Lips kiss-swollen.
Gorgeous. Breathtaking. Mine.
I kneel between her spread thighs, my hands smoothing up her legs and pushing her skirt up around her waist.
I love that she's always in a dress or skirt.
No pants to get in my way. Only black lace panties, completely soaked through.
Fuck, she's divine.
Hooking my fingers in the waistband, I drag them down her legs, punctuating every inch with a kiss. She lifts her hips to help.
Eager. Wanton.
Perfect.
I toss the scrap of lace aside and duck my head to nuzzle the inside of her thigh. Taking a moment, I breathe her in, dizzy with the scent of her arousal.
"Liam, please." Her voice cracks on the plea.
I look up the line of her body, past the soft mound of her stomach, the tantalizing swells of her breasts, lingering on her face.
Her eyes.
I love her eyes.
They're dark now, desperate with need.
"Please what, angel?" I dip my head, flicking my tongue against her clit in the barest caress.
She bucks and gasps, and my cock's pissed that I'm not sliding into her. "More."
I hum, pressing a kiss to her hip. Then her stomach. The valley between her breasts. "More what?"
"Fuck me." The words are ground out between clenched teeth as she reaches down to yank at my hair, trying to pull me up her body. "I need you inside me. Now."
I grin, feeling feral with the force of my need. "Your wish is my command."
Yanking down my pants takes too damn long, even if it's only a few seconds.
And then I'm sliding into her, inch by tortuous inch. The slick, tight heat of her has me broken in worship. The way she clenches around me welcomes me home.
"Fuck." It punches out of me, reverent and wrecked.
She arches, her hips rolling to meet mine, taking me deeper. I bottom out. Buried to the hilt. Balls deep. As close as two people can be.
It's still not enough. It'll never be enough. I'll always want more of her. All of her.
Forever.
Even if she's not ready for that yet.
"Move." Her heels dig into my ass, spurring me on. "Fuck me."
I obey. Hips pistoning, snapping, pounding into her, setting a brutal pace. I'm ruthless, pulling out all her moans, adjusting our angles until I find the spot that makes her scream.
And I hit it.
Over and over again.
She meets me thrust for thrust, giving as good as she gets. Her nails score down my back, her teeth sinking into my shoulder. Marking me. Claiming me.
Hers.
Always.
I angle my hips again, hitting that spot. The one that makes her keen, makes her clench tight around me.
"Liam!" Her voice is high and breathy, desperate.
She's almost there.
"That's it, angel." I grind against her every time I slam in, circling my hips, giving her the friction she needs. "You've been such a good girl. You deserve my cock, don't you? Come for me. Let me feel you. It's been too long."
She shatters, her back bowing and muscles seizing. The way her left foot angles out is a telltale sign that she's seconds from having a cramp in her calf, but for now, I'm focused on that rippling and fluttering she does all around my cock.
It's too much. The sight of her, the sound of her, the feel of her.
I follow her over, spilling deep.
Mine.
Mine, mine, mine.
And I'm hers.
I collapse on top of her, sweaty and spent, our harsh breaths mingling. Before she complains, I massage her left calf, trying to head off the cramp before it happens.
It's always that leg. No idea why. It's kind of cute that it happens to her when she comes so hard.
She runs her fingers through my hair, a soothing caress.
My eyes search hers. I need the reassurance. Need to know she's not going to run.
"I love you." Raw. Honest. Stripped bare. I have nothing to hide from this woman, this seductress with an angel's halo.
I fell for her in so many ways before I realized. She's my everything.
Her lips curve, soft and sweet. "I love you, too."
Four words I'll never tire of hearing. My heart expands, making room for her. For us. For this.
"One year." I brush a kiss to her lips. Her cheek. Her temple. "I'll make it the best damn year of your life. You're never going to want it to end. You'll be begging me to propose."
"I'm counting on it." Her eyes sparkle. Mirth and mischief and love.
So much fucking love.
My arms tighten around her, anchoring her to me. Anchoring me to her.
She's mine. And I'm hers. In this life. The next.
Always.