Chapter 13 #2
I nod and hesitantly cross the room toward him, offering out his shirt.
He sets his beer down on the side table and stands from the armchair, rising up in front of me to bring us eye-level.
When he takes his shirt from me and sets it down on the chair rather than slipping it on, I feel my stomach curdle.
“You’re sorry for spilling your drink on me?” he asks.
“Yes.”
Liam steps forward, closing the small space I’d maintained between us, and reaches out to cup my jaw in his hand.
“Then show me,” he challenges in a low voice.
He rests his forehead against mine, his blue eyes gazing deep into my own, and brushes his thumb over my lips. “Show me how sorry you are, Adelaide.”
As he brings his mouth to mine, I snap my head to the side and his kiss finds my cheek instead. “Not right now, Liam,” I whisper, squeezing my eyes shut as I brace myself.
A silence settles between us. My chest is pressed to his; his hand remains on the edge of my jaw. All I want to do is unravel from his touch, but I’m frozen in place as his mouth lingers over my shoulder and I feel the heat of his breath against the skin of my neck.
“Adelaide?” he says, confused. “I’m giving you a chance to make me forget all about that ruined shirt of mine. You understand, right?”
I understand. I always understand the warning signs, but my body entwined with Liam’s is the last thing on earth I want in this moment, and I can’t possibly force myself to endure his touch after all of the awful things he has just said.
“Later, I promise,” I say, swallowing hard. “Let’s go back to the club. Everyone’s waiting for us.”
Liam finally lifts his head from my shoulder and there’s a fire blazing in his eyes.
“But I want you right now,” he says, and what Liam wants, Liam gets.
Jaw twitching, he retreats and sinks back into the armchair.
He’s still shirtless, and he stares straight into my eyes as he undoes his belt, then the zipper of his jeans.
He slouches back, making himself comfortable.
“You’ll get on your knees for me, won’t you? If you were truly sorry?”
My features contort in repulsion as I shake my head no, protectively hugging my arms around myself. “Liam, please—”
“For fuck’s sake, Addy!” he snaps, tearing out of the armchair as I flinch in fear.
“You can’t even apologize right, can you?
I’m trying to connect with you, to make tonight better, and you’re being so difficult.
” His hands are in the air, fingers pointing aggressively, and the terror is so overwhelming I immediately give in.
The first time Liam ever backhanded me, I didn’t flinch.
I didn’t need to flinch, because I had no reason to ever expect him to lay his hands on me.
It was nearly two years ago, that first time.
I can’t remember now exactly what the argument was that set him off that night, but I remember being so stunned, so shocked to my core, that I just sat in a crumpled pile on the floor, touching the smear of blood on my mouth, gaping at him.
He was as bewildered as I was. Had no idea what had come over him.
He was just stressed, and he was so sorry, and he promised it would never, ever happen again.
Except it did happen again, just a few months later.
Lately, Liam doesn’t need to lay his hands on me anymore, because the mere threat of it alone is enough to keep me in perfect order.
“Okay! Okay!” I splutter, backing away from him now with my hands up in defeat, showing him my compliance. “Let me show you I’m sorry, okay?”
Suddenly, Liam’s lips crash into mine, hard.
It’s not insatiable hunger, it’s not irresistible desire—it’s power and fire, so all-consuming it’s frightening.
One hand is on my neck, the other hikes up my dress.
As I struggle to get into sync with him, tears burn at my eyes and my heart pounds erratically.
There’s a click, and the door abruptly swings open.
“Fucking hell, Connor!” Liam snarls, tearing his lips from mine and immediately zipping his jeans shut and redoing his belt. “A little privacy with my fiancée, please?”
Connor stands in the doorway, key card in hand. He doesn’t immediately blush and back out of the room like most people would when walking in on such a scene. Instead, he stands with intention, brown eyes analyzing the room, analyzing me.
The vulnerability in this moment is almost too much, and I quickly smooth out my dress and sit on the edge of Liam’s bed, hugging one of the decorative pillows to my chest and blinking at the floor.
The adrenaline running through my body is making me nauseous, and I’m fighting as hard I can to keep my pressing tears at bay.
“Damn, sorry, guys,” Connor apologizes, very insincerely. “I have some meds I need to remember to take before I pass out from the booze soon. My bad for assuming you really were just grabbing a new shirt.”
“I am,” Liam mutters. He slips his arms into the fresh shirt and clumsily does up the buttons before grabbing his half-empty can of beer from the side table.
He takes a swig and shakes his head in aggravation as he heads for the door.
“I need something stronger than this, so I’ll see you guys back in the club.
Adelaide?” He glances back at me over his shoulder.
“Let me just fix my lipstick and then I’ll be straight down,” I say, forcing a smile that painfully splinters my taut expression. “Have a vodka cranberry waiting for me when I get there?”
“Sure thing,” Liam says, and he digs an elbow into Connor’s ribs as he passes him in the doorway, conveying his irritation at the interruption.
Connor just shrugs nonchalantly, his eyes following Liam out of the room.
As soon as the door fully closes, Connor instantly breaks into a stride toward me.
He stops two feet away, gazing down at me on the edge of the bed with concerned brown eyes that flash with questions he doesn’t want to know the answers to.
“Adelaide,” he says softly, and in the split second before a sob tears from my throat, I manage to whisper, “Thank you.”