Chapter 18
Sophie
I’m running out of daylight, but I want to finish the skyline on my current painting.
I’ve been up on this roof almost every day painting, and it feels good.
Like finally finding that one puzzle piece that’s been staring back at me for days—maybe weeks—and it just clicks into place.
I’ve wanted to invite Liam up here to join me, just to hang out. But that’s not what we do.
This is not a relationship. He might have folded my underwear like it was no big deal, and I might be dying to show him my most recent painting. But that’s the problem. This isn’t what we agreed to. This isn’t what he wants.
I pack my brushes and paints back into my grandmother’s art box and pause at the door, listening so I don’t bump into Cal’s neighbor, who always seems to be yelling at someone on her phone. Man, do I feel sorry for whoever her assistant is.
When I’m sure the coast is clear, I go down the stairs, wondering if Liam's home, then chastise myself. He is not my boyfriend, he does not owe me his whereabouts.
When I open the apartment door, I freeze. Liam’s leaning against the hallway door, holding my purple vibrator, a wicked smirk tugging at his lips.
“Whatcha doing with that?” I tease, setting down my art supplies.
“I was restocking our condom supply in the bathroom, and you left this in the shower. Am I not leaving you satisfied?”
“You were on a run,” I shrug. But the truth was that vibrator couldn’t come close to satisfying me the way Liam had over the past three weeks.
In fact, the only way I was able to finish in the shower this morning was picturing Liam in there with me.
But in my daydream, it wasn’t his impressive length that got me to climax…
it was imagining him washing my hair. Shit, this is not good.
This is what I can’t let happen. This is just about sex.
“You couldn’t wait for me to get home?” Liam muses, smacking the sex toy against his hand.
“What?” I goad him. “You think you can do better than that thing?”
He stalks towards me with a look in his eyes that means I’ll soon be utterly satisfied and also unable to walk. But I’m not expecting it when he hauls me over his shoulder and smacks the vibrator against the exposed line of my ass under my cutoffs.
“I think I can do better with this thing.”
I squeal in delight…until I realize he’s taking us to the bedroom.
“No.” My voice comes out sharper than I intend, and Liam freezes. I’m having a hard enough time keeping my feelings separate, and the bedroom feels like something I can’t take back. I force a low, teasing edge into my voice. “Let’s do it right here.”
Liam lowers me down his body, searching my face. For a heartbeat, something flickers in his eyes—hurt, maybe—before he grips my waist and lifts me onto the kitchen island.
“It’s a good thing you keep this counter so immaculate, I think it’s the only surface we haven’t christened.” He yanks my shorts and underwear off in one motion. “Lean back,” he says, tugging me to the edge of the counter and settling himself on the stool.
I lean back on my palms, but I can’t tear my eyes off Liam as he turns my vibrator over in his hands. I startle when he hits the power button and the device begins to buzz.
“What do you like to do with this thing?” Liam drags the vibrator across the skin below my belly button, and everything inside me pulls tight. “This?”
“Uh-huh,” I breathe out.
“How about here?” He moves the toy up my stomach, scrunching my tank top until he can press the buzzing tip to my already peaked nipples.
“Yeah, that’s good.”
“Where next, Soph? Where do you touch yourself next?” he asks while drawing lazy circles around each nipple.
“Lower.”
He trails the vibrator down against my already sensitized skin, pausing at the crease of my hip, and I writhe on the counter. It’s not where I want him, and he knows it.
“Like here?”
“Liam.” My voice is a whimper, a plea. I try to rock forward, and he finally complies.
Slowly, he drags it up and down my slit, and I let my head fall back, eyes closing as I sink into the sensation.
Liam teases me, pausing at my clit just long enough to nearly tip me over before sliding back down to my entrance and the sensitive skin below.
This is what I need. Focus on the sex, lean into the pleasure.
“Look at me, Soph.”
I can’t. I shouldn’t. But I do. I lock eyes with Liam.
I might be naked from the waist down, completely exposed to him, but that’s not where I feel most vulnerable.
That’s not what I’m afraid he’ll see when he looks at me like that.
I try to clear my mind—of my shower daydream, of lazy mornings in bed, of doing laundry and eating chicken fajitas—and focus on my body, the vibrations, the sensations coursing through my bloodstream.
Not the hunger in his eyes watching the flush creep across my chest.
“Ready for more?” Liam asks, his voice husky, teasing my entrance.
“Don’t be gentle,” I tell him, spreading my legs wider. I need this to feel this raw and physical. I need to focus on him between my legs, not between my ribs.
“Fuck,” Liam grunts, slowly pumping the vibrator in and out. “You’re so fucking wet I can see everything, you’re so fucking gorgeous.”
Liam knows I love his dirty talk. He knows I like it rough, a little raw. He knows how to push all my buttons and to tip me over the edge. But right now, it’s not enough.
“You need more, don’t you, sweetheart?”
“Yes,” I gasp out, even as panic flutters in my chest that the ‘more’ I’m craving has nothing to do with what he’s offering.
He removes the vibrator with a lewd pop and lays it against my stomach so it just rests on my clit. “Hold this,” he growls.
The sound of his zipper, the tear of foil, the buzzing on my clit—they all have me so close that when he slams into me, I break. I scream out in pleasure as Liam’s cock bottoms out inside me.
“Don’t you dare move that vibrator until we’re both done,” Liam demands between rough strokes. My body starts to contract around him, builds and crashes and builds again until I’m undone, shattered apart in the filthiest, purest way.
“Fuck!” Liam shouts. His body shudders, and he drives into me once, twice, a third time before he drops his head and peppers soft kisses on my jaw and neck. “You’re perfect,” he murmurs, so quietly I almost miss it.
We are both breathing hard, still connected, when a different vibration causes me to jolt. I glance over at my phone, jumping on the end of the counter.
“Ignore it,” Liam says, easing us apart. With his help, I slide off the counter and tug on my shorts.
The ringing stops, then starts again.
What if it’s Cal? I’ve been avoiding all of my family’s calls, and my mom’s last voicemail threatened to drive to Santa Cruz herself if I didn’t answer.
I check the caller ID and let it go to voicemail. The phone beeps, confirming the caller left a message. I stare at my screen. It’s probably spam, but then what is this nervous flutter behind my sternum?
“You want to check it?” Liam says softly. I can feel the warmth of his body and the slight brush of his hand on my shoulder.
I hit play on the message.
“Hi, Sophia? This is Vandy Cooper, Senator Langford’s assistant.
Owen Bishop shared a sample of your work with the Senator, and she would like to know if you’re open to a commissioned piece.
I wasn’t able to find representation listed for you, so I’ve taken the liberty of sending a proposal directly to your email.
Please review it and let me know if you’re interested.
You can reach me at this number with your answer. ”
The message ends, and I look up to find Liam’s eyes locked on mine.
“Soph,” he says, reaching for my waist, then stopping mid-air, his hand dropping to his side. “This is it.”
“I don’t know, Liam.” I hate how small my voice sounds. “I’m not sure I can paint like that anymore.”
“Just open the email,” he says. He reaches for me again, this time letting his hand settle on my shoulder. The weight steadies me. “I’m right here.”
The email from Vandy sits at the top of my inbox, subject line flashing like a neon sign: “Art Commission Proposal.” I open it and skim through the details. She wants something similar to my large-scale gallery piece, but in shades of beige.
I suck in a breath when I hit the proposed commission rate.
That fee could change everything. Months of rent covered. Student loan payments caught up. A real fresh start.
Liam waits, holding his breath. His hand lingers on my shoulder, feeding me a steady stream of bravery that I can’t seem to muster from within. I turn the phone toward him and watch his eyes widen.
“Holy shit, Soph.” Then he’s scooping me up in a crushing hug, spinning me around until I laugh out loud. When he sets me down, he doesn’t let go, tucking me against his chest. “You did it,” he whispers into my hair. “I knew you could.”
And I let myself melt into his arms, and suddenly the painting doesn't matter. The money doesn't matter. It's this—his fingers drawing soft lines along my spine, the steady rhythm of his breathing. Fuck if this isn't what I actually want to be chasing.
Everything I swore I wouldn't want from him.