Chapter 2 The Hookup
The Hookup
Harper
The interior of Liam’s truck is surprisingly clean for a college boy’s vehicle.
No empty energy drink cans rolling around on the floor, no mysterious stains on the seats, just the faint scent of leather and whatever cologne he’s wearing that’s been driving me slowly insane all night.
City lights slide across the dashboard as we drive through downtown, the music low enough that I can hear the rumble of the engine beneath us.
“So,” I say, because the silence is starting to feel too loaded, “where exactly are we going?”
“My place.” He glances over at me, one hand relaxed on the steering wheel. “Unless you’ve changed your mind.”
“Just checking that you’re not a serial killer who lures unsuspecting women to abandoned warehouses.”
“Nah, that’s more of a Tuesday thing for me. Tonight I’m just a regular guy taking a beautiful woman back to his apartment.”
I roll my eyes even as my stomach does that traitorous flutter thing. “I’m already in the truck with you. There’s no need for the sweet talk.”
His grin is quick and devastating. “Who says I’m sweet talking? Maybe I’m just stating facts.”
“Fact: you probably say that to all the girls.”
“Fact: I don’t.” His voice is quieter now, more serious, and when I look over at him, there’s something in his expression that makes my breath catch. “Trust me on that one.”
I want to ask what he means, but we’re pulling into the parking lot of a nice apartment complex, and suddenly the reality of what I’m doing hits me like a freight train.
I’m about to sleep with a guy I just met.
From a party. I don’t even know his middle name.
This is everything I swore I wouldn’t do after Bobby.
But as Liam parks the truck and turns to look at me, those ocean-colored eyes searching my face, I realize I don’t care. For once in my carefully controlled life, I want to do something just because it feels good.
“Having second thoughts?” he asks, echoing my question from earlier.
“Third and fourth thoughts, actually,” I admit. “But I’m still here.”
“Good.” He reaches over and brushes a strand of hair behind my ear, the simple touch sending sparks down my spine. “Because I’ve been thinking about kissing you since we left the party.”
The elevator ride to his floor is an exercise in sexual tension.
We’re standing on opposite sides of the small space, but I can feel the pull between us like it’s a physical thing.
The mirrored walls reflect us back from every angle.
Me clutching my purse like a lifeline, him leaning against the wall watching me with an intensity that makes me want to either run or throw myself at him.
Just before the doors open, he speaks up. “What do we call this?”
I blink. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, what are the rules? I want to make sure we’re on the same page.”
It’s such an unexpectedly mature question that I’m momentarily thrown. The guys I usually date, well, the guys I used to date, would never think to ask something like that.
“One night,” I say finally. “No promises, no expectations, no sleepovers. We’re both adults who can make adult decisions without it meaning anything more than it is.”
“And what is it?”
I look at him directly. “Fun. Hopefully.”
The elevator dings and the doors slide open. He doesn’t move right away, just keeps studying my face like he’s trying to memorize it.
“One night,” he agrees finally. “One promise, though, if you want to stop, we stop. No questions, no arguments, and I’ll take you home.”
I offer a shy smile. “Okay.”
His apartment is cleaner than I expected, which probably says something terrible about my expectations of college guys.
There’s a trophy case by the door that I try not to look too closely at, a pair of hockey gloves tossed on the kitchen counter, and a couch that looks actually comfortable instead of like something pulled off the side of the road.
“This is nice,” I say, because standing in his doorway making small talk seems safer than acknowledging the elephant in the room, which is that we both know why we’re here.
“Thanks. Can I get you some water? Or—”
“Liam.”
“Yeah?”
I turn to face him fully, my heart hammering against my ribs. “I don’t need water.”
Something shifts in his expression, heat flaring in his eyes. But instead of immediately closing the distance between us, he moves slowly, deliberately, giving me time to change my mind. When he’s close enough that I have to tilt my head back to look at him, he stops.
“You sure?”
Instead of answering, I rise up on my toes and kiss him.
My stomach flutters from the softness of his lips.
It’s been so long since I’ve kissed a guy, and I forgot how good it feels when his lips move against mine.
I taste beer on his breath as his hands settle on my waist, warm and sure, and I melt into him despite every rational thought in my head screaming that this is a terrible idea.
“This is such a bad idea,” I murmur against his lips. I can’t help my mind to mouth connection. The words just rolled out of me.
“The best ones usually are,” he responds, and then he’s walking me backwards toward the couch, never breaking the kiss.
We tumble onto the cushions in a tangle of limbs and breathless laughter. His hands are in my hair, mine are fisted in his t-shirt, and every rational thought I’ve ever had is rapidly evacuating my brain.
“Harper,” he says, pulling back to look at me. His hair is mussed from my fingers, his lips slightly swollen, and he looks like every bad decision I’ve ever wanted to make.
“Still good?” he asks, searching my face.
Instead of answering with words, I pull his head back down to mine. But this time, when his hands start exploring, I don’t hesitate to guide them exactly where I want them. He follows my lead without question, learning what I like, paying attention to every small sound I make.
When he lifts me in his arms like I weigh nothing at all, I wrap my legs around his waist and let him carry me to his bedroom.
The sheets are cool against my heated skin, and there’s something about the way he looks at me in the dim light filtering through his blinds that makes me feel beautiful and wanted and reckless all at once.
“I’m going to remember this,” he says, his voice rough with desire. He pulls my hair out of the low bun I had it in and puts it on his wrist.
“No souvenirs,” I tease, but my voice shakes on the words.
“Some things are worth breaking the rules for.”
And then he’s kissing me again, and I stop thinking altogether.
“Condom?” I murmur between kisses.
He nods.
“What’s your favorite position?” I ask, wanting to know what I’m up against.
He lifts my knees, pressing firmly against my center. “This.”
“Oh.” Heat crawls through my veins as he rubs his hard dick against me. “I thought most guys like it from behind.”
He looks down at our bodies and says, “I want to see your face. Doggy style is for the third date.”
“Is that so?”
He nods, leaning down to kiss me. “What’s yours?”
I pull him closer. “Definitely this.”
“Good,” he smiles and then trails kisses down my neck.
He reaches for my shirt and pulls it over my head. And then he’s tugging off my bra. He kisses my chest and then pulls off his shirt.
God, he has abs. Is he freaking serious?
“Are you okay?” he asks.
I nod, swallowing the lump in my throat. I can’t stop staring. “Yeah.”
He smiles like he knows and reaches for my jeans. He slowly peels them off, watching me. Then his jeans come off, and I’m staring at the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen. He rolls on the condom and leans over me, kissing me again.
I grab his dick and pump him a few times. “It’s been a while, so please go slow.”
He nods, pressing into me. And that immediate connection has my eyes rolling back. Every nerve ending comes alive under his touch.
“Fuck, you’re so beautiful,” he says, pushing further into me.
I breathe hard as he kisses me softly.
“Still good?”
I nod. “Feels so good.”
He drops his head into my neck and pushes all the way inside of me. I lift my hips to let him in further.
“Holy fuck,” he breathes.
He starts thrusting his hips while I roll my mine, and we’re in sync like I’ve never experienced before. Normally a guys like thrusting into you chasing his own pleasure, but Liam is in tune, following my lead. He’s not chasing anything but me right now.
“Kiss me,” he says, so I do.
I grab the back of his neck and kiss him while he pumps into me harder and harder.
When he’s about to come, he says, “Do you want me to––”
I nod. “Yes.”
God, that’s so fucking hot.
He comes and I watch his face change from determined to euphoric. When he pulls out, he leans back, giving me a good image of his body, and I don’t know how this is going to be the only time I do this… because that was so good.
“That was so good,” he says along with my thoughts.
I smile up at him, and he offers his hand. I take it, following him through his room and then he starts the shower for me.
He says, “I’ll be right back.”
I get in and shower quickly. He comes back with a towel and one of his shirts. I step out as he steps in. I get dressed and then go to his room where my clothes are laying on the ground. It was nice of him to give me one of his shirts.
I grab my phone and still no text from Maddie. She must be fulfilling her mission of hooking up with someone and is too busy to look at her phone. Typical Maddie.
“Hey,” Liam says as he walks into the room.
I put my phone down. “Hi.”
“Do you want to go home?” he asks.
I smirk. “Trying to get rid of me already?”
He shakes his head, walking over to me. He places both hands around me and kisses me. “I don’t want you to leave yet, so no. I’m offering in case you’re dying to get away from me.”
I touch his cheek and smile. “Not a chance.”
He kisses my nose. “Perfect.”
I wake up to unfamiliar sunlight streaming through unfamiliar windows, momentarily disoriented before everything comes flooding back. Liam’s apartment. Last night.
We were bonding over stupid memes and watching YouTube videos in his bed, and then…
Shit. I wasn’t supposed to fall asleep.
We said no sleepovers.
I turn my head carefully, expecting to find him beside me, but his side of the bed is empty. I can hear the shower running in what I assume is the bathroom, which gives me the perfect opportunity to make my escape before this gets awkward.
I slip out of bed as quietly as possible, gathering my clothes from where they’re scattered around the room.
His soft, worn t-shirt he gave me to sleep in smells like him, and I have to resist the urge to bury my face in it.
Instead, I pull my clothes from last night back on and run my fingers through my hair, trying to make myself presentable.
I’m almost to the front door when his voice stops me.
“Sneaking out?”
I turn to find him leaning against the doorway to his bedroom, hair still damp from the shower, wearing nothing but a pair of low-slung sweatpants. He looks stupidly good this early in the morning.
“I wouldn’t call it sneaking,” I say, trying for casual and probably failing miserably.
He pushes off from the doorframe and walks toward me, and I have to force myself not to take a step back. Not because I’m afraid of him, but because being this close to him makes me want to forget all about the rules we set last night.
“Did something happen? Was it something I said?” he asks, but there’s a teasing note in his voice that tells me he’s not actually worried.
“You didn’t say anything wrong. This is just... One night, remember?”
“Right. One night.” But he doesn’t sound entirely convinced.
When he stops in front of me, close enough that I can see the water droplets still clinging to his chest, I know I’m in trouble. Because instead of letting me leave with my dignity intact, he reaches up and cups my face in his hands.
“Harper,” he says quietly, observing my face. When his eyes land on my lips, my stomach flutters.
“This was supposed to be one night,” I whisper, even as I lean into his touch.
“I know.” And then he’s kissing me, soft and sweet and nothing like the heated kisses from last night. This kiss is tender in a way that makes my chest tight.
When we finally break apart, we’re both breathing hard.
“Let me drive you home,” he says.
I want to say no. I want to call an Uber and maintain whatever shred of casual cool I have left. But the way he’s looking at me, like I’m something precious instead of just a hookup, makes me nod before I can stop myself.
“Okay.”
The drive back to campus is quiet, filled with the kind of tension that has nothing to do with attraction and everything to do with the fact that neither of us seems ready for this to be over.
He doesn’t try to fill the silence with meaningless chatter, doesn’t ask for my number or suggest we do this again.
He just drives, one hand on the wheel, the other resting on the center console close enough to mine that I can feel the warmth radiating from his skin.
When he pulls up in front of my dorm, I unbuckle my seatbelt and turn to face him. He’s already looking at me, those blue-green eyes unreadable in the morning light.
“Thank you,” I say. “For… everything.”
His smile is small but genuine. “Thank you for saying yes.”
I get out of the truck before I can do something stupid like kiss him goodbye, but I can’t resist looking back through the passenger window. He’s still watching me, and for a moment, I almost tap on the glass and ask if he wants to get breakfast.
Instead, I force myself to smile and wave, then turn and walk toward my building without looking back. I can hear his truck idle for another moment before he finally drives away, and I tell myself the hollow feeling in my chest is just because I didn’t eat dinner last night.
It has nothing to do with the fact that one night with Liam Murphy was not enough.