Chapter 13 #2
My hands were steadier than I expected as I pulled it up slowly—an inch at a time, the way he’d done with his shirt.
Stomach first, then ribs, then the underswell of my breasts.
I wasn’t wearing a bra—hadn’t bothered since I’d just been studying alone tonight—and when I finally tugged the fabric over my head and dropped it to the floor, cool air hit my bare skin like a shock.
Liam’s jaw went tight. His throat worked as he swallowed, his hands gripping his thighs like he was physically restraining himself from moving.
“Fuck,” he breathed.
That single word did more for my confidence than any compliment could have. I kept moving—rolling my body, letting my hands skim over my own skin in a way that felt decadent and new. Over my collarbone, down between my breasts, across my stomach. Every place I touched, his eyes followed.
I hooked my thumbs into the waistband of my boxer shorts and turned, giving him my back as I shimmied them down over my hips. Bent at the waist, I stepped out of them, knowing exactly what kind of view I was giving him in my simple cotton thong.
When I turned back around, his chest was rising and falling faster. The bulge in his boxer briefs was more pronounced than before, straining against the fabric, and something hot and primal surged through me at the evidence that I’d done that. That my body had made him react like that.
“Get over here,” he said, his voice rough.
I closed the distance between us, and his hands were on my hips before I could take a full breath—pulling me onto his lap so I was straddling him on the edge of the bed. The position pressed me right against that hard length, and we both groaned at the contact.
“That was hot as fuck,” he said against my neck, his mouth finding the spot just below my ear. “You’re sexier than you give yourself credit for.”
Liam’s hands slid up my back as his mouth trailed down to my collarbone.
“Touch me,” I begged.
He pulled back just enough to meet my eyes. “Where?”
“Everywhere.”
His grin was sharp, hungry. “That’s a lot of territory, Aves.”
“Then you better get started.”
His hands moved up my sides, thumbs brushing the underswell of my breasts before finally—finally—cupping them fully.
I arched into his palms, gasping when his thumbs circled my nipples.
They were already hard and sensitive from the cool air and anticipation, and the pressure made sparks shoot down my spine.
“Sensitive here?” he murmured, pinching lightly.
I whimpered instead of answering, which seemed to be response enough. He dipped his head and took one nipple into his mouth, sucking hard enough to make my hips buck against him. His teeth grazed the peak, tongue soothing the sting, and I grabbed his shoulders for balance as the room tilted.
“Liam—” His name came out broken and barely recognizable.
He switched to the other breast, giving it the same treatment while one hand slid down my stomach. His fingers traced the edge of my underwear, teasing along the elastic, and I squirmed in his lap—trying to get him where I needed him.
“Impatient,” he said against my skin, and I could hear the smirk in his voice.
“You’re a tease.”
“Maybe.” His fingers dipped below the waistband, and I held my breath. “But you like it.”
Before I could argue, his fingers found me—sliding through the wetness that had been building since he started his stupid Magic Mike routine. I gasped, hips jerking, as he traced my folds with maddening slowness.
“Fuck, Ava.” His voice was strained now, some of that cocky control slipping. “You’re soaked.”
I should have been embarrassed. Would have been, with anyone else. But Liam said it like a compliment, like proof of something good, and all I felt was want.
“Please,” I breathed.
He didn’t make me beg twice. Two fingers slid inside me, slow and firm, stretching me in a way that made my eyes roll back. I clutched at his shoulders, nails digging in, as he started to move—curling his fingers on each stroke to hit that spot that made stars burst at the edges of my vision.
“That’s it,” he murmured, watching my face like he was cataloging every reaction. “Ride my hand, Aves. Take what you need.”
I did.
My hips found a rhythm, grinding down on his fingers, chasing the pressure building low in my belly. His thumb found my clit, pressing in tight circles, and I cried out—the sound louder than I meant it to be in the small room.
“That’s my girl,” he said, and the words sent a jolt straight through me. “Don’t hold back. I want to hear you as you come all over my fingers.”
He added a third finger, the stretch burning in the best way, and picked up the pace.
The wet sound of him fucking me with his hand was obscene, mixing with my increasingly desperate moans and the music still pulsing from the speaker.
I couldn’t think anymore—could only feel.
His fingers inside me, his thumb on my clit, his mouth on my neck sucking a mark I’d have to cover tomorrow.
“Come on,” he urged, his voice rough against my ear. “Come for me. I want to feel you fall apart.”
The orgasm hit me like a wave—sudden and overwhelming, crashing over me in pulses that made my body shake. I clenched around his fingers, crying out his name, and he worked me through it with steady strokes until I collapsed against his chest, trembling.
For a long moment, neither of us moved. I could feel his heart pounding against my cheek, could feel him still hard beneath me, but he didn’t push for more. He simply held me, his other hand stroking up and down my spine while I remembered how to breathe.
“Okay?” he asked eventually.
I laughed, still boneless and buzzing. “More than okay.”
When I finally lifted my head, he was watching me with that easy grin again—pleased with himself in a way that should have been annoying but mostly just made me want to kiss him.
So I did.
It was softer than I meant it to be. Less heat, more…something else. Something that made my chest feel too full.
I pulled back quickly, trying to cover the moment with a joke. “So that’s what all those girls have been raving about.”
He snorted. “Raving is a strong word.”
“Please. Your reputation precedes you, Farrell.” I climbed off his lap, legs still unsteady, and grabbed my shirt from the floor. “Do you want me to…?” I gestured vaguely at his obvious situation.
He shook his head. “I’m good. Tonight was about you.”
I frowned. “That doesn’t seem fair.”
“Who said anything about fair?” He shifted on the bed, wincing slightly as he adjusted himself. “There’s plenty of list items left. We’ll get there.”
Right. The list. That’s what this was about.
I pulled my shirt back on, expecting him to reach for his clothes. Instead, he flopped backward onto my bed with a groan, arms spread wide like he owned the place.
“Oh my God,” he breathed out, staring at my ceiling. “Do you hear that?”
I listened. “I don’t hear anything.”
“Exactly.” He closed his eyes, a look of pure bliss on his face. “No baby crying or screaming. This is what peace sounds like.”
I couldn’t help but smile. “Has it really been that bad?”
“Aves, I love your niece. I do. But that kid has lungs like an opera singer and zero concept of appropriate sleeping hours.” He cracked one eye open to look at me. “You still okay with me crashing here?”
The request landed like a stone in my stomach.
No sleepovers. That had been my rule. One of the boundaries I’d insisted on when we started this, because sleepovers meant more.
But Liam wasn’t thinking about any of that. He was thinking about Rory’s crying and his own exhaustion and the fact that my dorm was blessedly quiet. This wasn’t about us. And I’d already broken my rule by even making the offer.
“Yeah. You deserve a decent night’s sleep. The bed’s small, though.”
“I’ve slept in worse.” He was already scooting over to make room, like this was decided. “Come on. I promise I don’t snore.”
I hesitated for only a moment before turning off the fairy lights and climbing in beside him. The twin bed really was too small for two people—we had to press close just to fit, my back against his chest, his arm draped heavy over my waist.
“This okay?” he murmured against my hair.
“Yeah.”
It was more than okay. That was the problem.
Within minutes, his breathing evened out, deep and steady against my back.
He’d fallen asleep that fast—testament to just how exhausted he’d been.
Meanwhile, I lay there wide awake, hyperaware of every point of contact between us.
His arm around my waist. His knees tucked behind mine. The warmth of him seeping into my skin.
I was already in so much trouble.