Chapter 3
REGAN
My jaw drops as he impatiently gestures at the whisky. “Come back. Sit down. Sip this. You’ll feel better.”
“Stop trying to get me drunk. I’m not staying over here. There’s no way.”
“So you want to go back to your father’s place smelling like gasoline and smoke?”
I hesitate, because he’s got a good point. I’ve been staying in my childhood bedroom ever since I caught Kieren balls deep in Vera in our bed, and it’ll be hard to hide my nasty smelling clothes from my parents. Even if neither of them have so much as seen a washer and dryer in decades.
“I’ll get a hotel room.”
“And risk some clerk ratting you out? A girl comes in, stinking like a barbecue, dressed like a cheap ninja—“
“Hey!”
“They’ll call the cops in a second. You’ll rot in prison. Drink the whisky, stay here, shower, let me wash your clothes, and you can leave in the morning.”
Shit. Shit, shit, shit. I look toward the door, panic rising again, but I don’t move.
What if he’s right? What if it’s safer to spend the night here and let him do the laundry before I go back in the morning? Nobody at home will question that. I’m a grown ass woman, I can come and go as I please.
But staying here, with Liam…
“What will I wear? While you’re doing wash?”
The look on his face is utterly infuriating. “I’ve got shorts and shirts. Don’t worry about that.”
“Why are you doing this?”
“I suppose I feel guilty. I didn’t have to light the car on fire, but you looked like you needed it.”
I bark a laugh, march over, and snatch the drink. My third of the night, which is three more than I normally have. “You burned the car for me?”
“Entirely for you, love.”
The look he gives me, plaintive, fascinated, filled with sin, makes me throw the whisky back and shoot it down my throat.
“Just one night and I’m staying on the couch.” I slam the glass down. “Where’s your shower?”
Water runs down my body. I wring out my hair, not happy with this makeshift wash, but otherwise it would smell like a chain-smoker’s dungeon. The door to the bathroom is locked, but I keep waiting for Liam to come rushing in anyway.
I can’t stop thinking about him. The way he moves, the way he looks at me like he’s impossibly curious and can’t help himself.
He’s handsome in a rough and scary sort of way.
I’ve always tried to avoid men like him, which is how I ended up with Kieren.
My ex was perfect: nice family, good hair, outgoing, the All-American kind of guy.
My father deeply approved, and maybe that was part of the charm.
Dating Kieren meant doing the right thing, and that’s always been everything.
Getting it right. Acting proper. Making my family proud of my choices.
Liam’s the opposite of all that. Drinking with him, showering in his apartment, letting him clean my clothes, and committing arson are all things I should avoid.
But now that I’m alone and I have a few minutes to think, I keep circling back to him.
Back to Liam and how he keeps making me feel.
Despite everything, I wouldn’t take it back.
Even though I’m still in deep shit.
Because when Liam handed me that lighter and I tossed the spark into the car and I watched Kieren’s BMW explode, I felt more alive, more excited, happier, freer, than I’ve ever felt in my life.
It’s an extremely disorienting feeling. I’m not supposed to like that stuff. Breaking the rules has always been a massive trigger. I stay safe, sane, and centered by walking the straight and narrow.
Liam’s shorts barely stay on my hips. I have to cinch and tie them tight. The sweatshirt is hilariously massive, almost like a dress. I check myself in the mirror, dab at my face, at my lips and eyes. I look tired and stressed, and I wonder what Liam’s going to think.
But why the hell do I care about that?
He’s sitting in the living room. The washer’s making soft mechanical whirrs as the water sloshes in its guts. I feel light and hazy from the whisky. Liam’s still drinking, but now he’s wearing black joggers and a soft gray shirt hoodie.
“Let me ask you something.” He doesn’t glance over, his eyes still locked on the city. “You ever break a law before?”
I snort quietly and sit down on the couch next to him. “Never. Not once.”
“Did you like it?”
“Honestly? Yeah, a little bit.”
“Feels good, right?” He looks at me, face utterly serious. “When you do something you know is wrong, but you choose it anyway, mostly just because you can. When you don’t care what anyone thinks.”
“Is that how you live?”
“It’s how I try to at least.”
“Well, that isn’t me.”
“Yeah, figured.” He looks away again. I watch his lips as he drinks and feel my mouth watering.
“What’s that mean?”
“You got that—“ He waves a hand as if conjuring the word. “You know. That aura."
“I don’t know, actually.”
“You’re uptight.”
I suck in a breath. “What the hell? Why are you randomly insulting me?”
“I’m not, love, I’m really not. I apologize, I know how it’s coming off.
I just meant to say, you had a nice time tonight, didn’t you?
I watched you spray painting that car and I swear, I’ve never seen a woman more alive and more beautiful than you were right then.
And when you tossed the lighter?” He gives a slow shake of his head, eyes burning with pure, unabashed desire. “Divine. Absolutely fucking divine.”
I shift uncomfortably, heart pattering hard as I tuck my legs underneath me. “I always look that way. You actually caught me on a bad night.”
He doesn’t laugh at my deflecting joke. “It was a risk bringing you back here. Probably a stupid one, but I couldn’t leave you behind. If your father knew his precious girl was in my apartment—“
“Why are you bringing my father into this?”
“Because of who he is and who I am.” There’s an edge in Liam’s voice now.
“Are you asking me not to say anything?”
“I wouldn’t do that. But I am saying that I’m glad you followed me home.”
“I didn’t have much of a choice.”
“Ah, see, that’s where you’re wrong. There’s always a choice.” His smile returns, edged and brutal. “Though I admit, I can be very persuasive.”
We sit in silence for several seconds. He’s very close to me, his body lean and lithe, muscular and obscenely handsome.
I feel the attraction between us pulsing rapidly.
He’s bad in so many ways, bad for me and likely bad for the whole world, a man who ruins for fun and burns cars for strange girls.
I should want to put as much distance between us as possible.
But I don’t.
He stands, like he’s fighting back an idea. “I should let you get some rest,” he says and drifts away. I struggle not to ask him to sit back down.
“You’re going to bed?” He has to hear my disappointment.
“I’ll move your laundry over first. Goodnight, Regan. I’ll see you in the morning.”
“Maybe,” I say as he walks to the side hall leading to his bedroom. “Or maybe I’ll sneak out in the middle of the night.”
He glances back at me. His mischievous smile is back. “I doubt you have that in you, love.”
I can’t sleep.
At least the couch is comfortable. He gave me a very fancy cashmere blanket that looks brand new and disappeared back to his bedroom without much conversation.
Now it’s past midnight and moonlight filters in through the massive city windows.
I keep looking out toward the nearby buildings.
What did he see when he gazed out there?
Was he thinking about how small everything makes him feel?
Or does he think he’s a king looking down at his subjects?
The washing machine whirrs softly from the hall closet.
Tonight has been… interesting.
A disaster for sure, but not the end of the world, assuming Liam’s right and we don’t get caught. And I have a feeling he gets away with this sort of thing all the time.
For me though it’s like wading out into the ocean only to realize there’s a brand-new continent right over the horizon.
A world’s opening to me, and I can’t decide how I feel about it.
Maybe that’s the whisky in my stomach talking, or maybe it’s the rush I felt when the flames licked up the edges of Kieren’s precious car.
But I really like the way Liam made me feel and I don’t want tonight to end.
Which is reckless. I should be praying for forgiveness right now and hoping God doesn’t punish me for being a freaking idiot. Arson with a stranger? Really? Just because the guy’s hot doesn’t mean I get to commit crimes with him.
Liam really is hot though…
Those eyelashes. The way he looks at me, intense, penetrating, confident. The aura around him, buzzing and hard to ignore. His body’s trim and muscular, and his clothing fits him like it was molded to his shape.
Kieren was handsome too. He had that All-American look to him: clean, trim, healthy.
But Liam’s on another level. There’s something rugged and seductive in the way he moves, predatory and lethal, a strange erotic grace. Thinking about him sets my heart racing.
The door to his room opens.
I stay very still and listen. His footsteps creak the floorboards.
The closet door groans and the dryer door thuds open.
I draw in a quiet breath and blow it out.
For a second I thought he was coming out here and it played like a movie in my head: his shadow falling across me, his naked torso, his needy, hungry eyes, him ghosting over and kneeling down, not saying a word as he kisses me gently at first, probing, curious, until I return his touch—
Shit, this is stupid.
I listen to Liam move the laundry over, chewing my lip.
Am I seriously staying here? Fantasizing about him? I’ve already gone insane and I have alcohol softening my nerves. Why not finish this night the way I really want to?
Before I can stop myself, I kick the blanket off and get to my feet. This is stupid, it’s really stupid, but when I take a step toward the hall I realize:
I want it.
I really want it.