Chapter 10
HOLLY
In less than ten minutes, Ralph had escorted every wayward soul out of Abbott’s and to their cars or into a taxi if he felt they couldn’t safely drive. After thirty minutes, it was just him, Liam and I. Everyone else had finished their post shift cleanup and left.
Liam lingered, wiping down a table. The damp cloth caught the stickiness of spilled drinks and the chaos from earlier. He worked with a steady rhythm, quick but efficient.
“You’re awfully quiet.” My voice carried effortlessly across the room without the chatter and music I’d grown used to tonight. “I feel like I should have heard one of your lame dad jokes by now.”
Liam tossed his rag into a bucket and crossed the room toward me, a playful grin lifting his lips. “They aren’t lame.”
I raised an eyebrow and folded my arms across my chest. Liam’s jokes were lame, but I loved them. I looked forward to the random message once, sometimes twice, a day because it showed he was thinking about me. It made me feel less guilty about how often I thought about him. “Oh, please.”
Liam leaned against the counter beside me. “I was saving my best material for the grand finale.”
“Alright, then. Hit me with your best shot. Let’s hear this so-called grand finale.”
Liam inched closer and whispered like he was about to share a world-shattering secret. “What do you call a fake noodle?”
“A fake noodle?” I frowned, unable to figure out where he was going with this one. Sometimes I got the answers and stole his thunder, but this time I had no clue. “What?”
“An impasta,” he said with a completely serious expression before flashing me that beautifully disarming smile.
I groaned so loudly it echoed through the empty bar. “That was so bad it actually hurt.” I pressed a hand to my chest, trying not to smile. “Like, physically painful.”
“Come on, that’s comedy gold!”
“Gold, alright—fool’s gold,” I shot back, shaking my head but unable to suppress the laugh bubbling up.
Liam shrugged, unbothered, his grin as infuriatingly charming as ever. “Hey, you asked for my best. If you can’t handle the classics, that’s on you.”
“Classics,” I muttered, rolling my eyes, but my smile lingered.
I shifted closer, eager to close the space between us.
Ever since that dance, I’ve wanted his hands on me again and it’s been damn near excruciating waiting for everyone to leave.
One more person. All I needed was to wait out Ralph and I wouldn’t have to worry about what anyone might see or hear tonight.
“Where do you even learn jokes that bad?”
“My mom,” Liam said, his voice so low it was almost a whisper. “She used to wake me up with one every morning before school.”
The smile on my face faltered as his words sank in.
He’d mentioned once, in passing, that she’d died when he was a kid.
I didn’t know what to say then, and I really didn’t know what to say now.
His grief was quiet, a dull ache that settled deep—different from the raw wound of losing my mom last year, but just as familiar.
I wondered if he clung to the little details like I did: the sound of her voice, the way she smiled.
Or had time blurred those memories into something bittersweet?
Before I could respond, Ralph poked his head out, jangling his keys. The tense moment shattered like glass and I couldn’t have been more grateful for the change. “You two good here? Want me to wait, or are you locking up?”
“I’ve got it,” Liam said, waving him off. “Have a good night.”
Ralph’s gaze flicked between us, a knowing look in his eyes.
“Alright. Don’t stay too late. And set the alarm this time.
” He didn’t wait for Liam’s rebuttal before scurrying out the door.
I wanted to think he left so quickly because he was tired, but I had a feeling he knew what I had planned and wanted no part of it.
As the back door clicked shut behind him, the room felt even quieter. I leaned against the bar’s edge, my arms crossed as I looked around. “It’s weird seeing this place empty,” I said nervously. “So different. Almost… romantic.”
The word hung in the air between us for a long moment. Liam’s finger brushed against my forearm. I looked down at it and then up at him. His eyes fixed on my lips, the dark of his pupils swallowing his sapphire eyes.
“Would I be a terrible friend,” he asked, his voice low, “if I said I wanted to kiss you again?”
My heart skipped. I tilted my head, letting a slow smile spread across my lips. “I’d say you’d be a great friend if you did.”
Liam’s hand brushed the side of my face as he leaned in.
He angled his head and pressed his mouth to mine.
Unlike the first two, this kiss was slower, deliberate.
I slid my hands up his arms, gripping the fabric of his shirt as I leaned into him.
His hands traveled under my shirt, up my back and unclasped my bra.
I pulled back just long enough to slip the fabric over my head and let my bra fall to the floor.
Liam’s shirt was off just as fast. His hands were back at my hips, grabbing me by the belt loops and pulling me onto his lap.
He kissed me again and my hips had a mind of their own. I was grinding against his lap, panting against his lips, and feeling like I'd die if we didn’t take things to the next step.
“Is there a chance anyone could come back tonight?” I asked. I wasn't shy, but I didn’t want to be interrupted. We’d barely gotten to do anything fun, just kissing and grinding, and I was already chasing the next high that came from his touch.
“I’ll fire them if they do,” he said, his lips tracing down my neck to my collarbone. I made a sound that was somewhere between a sigh and a moan, and Liam grunted in return.
The things he did to me felt amazing, better than amazing, but it wasn't enough. I needed more than just his chest pressed to mine. I needed to feel him, every inch of the hardness pressing against me through his pants, and this stupid stool we’d found ourselves on wasn’t suitable for the things I wanted to do.
Liam somehow read my mind because his hands slid under my thighs.
He stood and muttered, “I’ve got you,” while carrying us away from the bar.
He took me to the break room and if I had any sort of conscience, I’d have felt terrible knowing that a kid slept here from time to time.
But I didn’t. I didn’t think about anything beyond the burning desire to feel him.
He lowered me onto the cushions so we could both move like we wanted to.
He settled between my legs, feverishly pulling my jeans and panties off my hips until he had me how he wanted me.
Naked. Sitting on his face. His tongue brushed against my clit and I made embarrassing, gasping sounds that were a mix of Liam and God’s name.
He chuckled and the vibration was heavenly.
I grasped at the cushions, his hair, his back.
Anything to help bring me back to earth because I could have sworn I was floating outside my body.
My thighs shook and a liquid heat swelled in my center.
Liam gripped my hips tighter. “I can’t wait to taste you.”
That, right there, sent me over the edge into the best third-base orgasm I’d ever experienced.
It ripped through me, crackling like fire until all I could see was gold sparkles around the room.
I was high on Liam’s touch, every nerve in my body alive and aching for more when a strange vibration deep inside me broke through the haze.
I had felt it earlier, a subtle thrum when Liam first went down on me, but I had brushed it off, thinking it was just the effects of his touch.
Liam wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, his eyes dark and full of heat as he crawled up my body.
His lips found mine and I loved how he tasted like me.
I melted into him, desperate for more—to finally feel the bulge beneath his pants.
But the vibration grew stronger. It pulled me out of the moment and tugged at the edge of my awareness like a relentless whisper.
His fingers threaded through my hair, sending shivers down my spine. And then it hit me—what that feeling was.
Magic.
It surged between us, wrapping around our bodies in golden threads, a living thing that pulsed with hunger, waiting for us to connect, to bind our souls together. My breath caught in my throat at the realization of what was happening.
Dahlia had been right all along.
Liam was my soulmate.
Panic surged through me, sharp and suffocating. I jerked back, breaking the kiss as the words tumbled out of me. “I’m sorry. I have to go.”
Liam recoiled, confusion and hurt flashing across his face as he sat back on his heels. “Did I do something wrong?” His voice was low, almost a whisper. The rawness in it cut through me, but I had to ignore it.
“No,” I blurted, fumbling to pull my pants back on. My hands trembled as I searched for my shoes. How had they come off? And when? I had no idea, but I was grateful they were at the edge of the couch. “I just… I can’t do this. I’m sorry. I… just…”
My words dissolved into nothing as I stumbled into the main room of the bar.
I yanked my shirt over my head and clutched my bra in one hand, not bothering to put it on.
My magic writhed inside me, a living force straining against my control.
It pulsed and ached, the golden threads desperate to weave themselves tighter, to complete the bond it knew we both wanted.
It burned with longing, a yearning that mirrored my own, and it tore me apart because I couldn’t give in. I shouldn’t give in.
The door behind me opened, and Liam stepped out, his expression crumbling the moment our eyes met. The open vulnerability on his face made my heart splinter. He looked shattered—broken in a way I had never seen anyone suffer before. “Can I drive you home?”
The gentleness in his voice hurt more than if he’d been angry.
“No, Liam,” I said, harsher than I intended. He flinched, and I bit my lip, guilt pooling in my chest. “Just… just let me go.”
For a moment, he stared at me, his jaw tight, his eyes filled with questions he didn’t ask. Then, slowly, he nodded. “Okay.”
And he let me go.
Each step away from him felt like a blade slicing through my heart. I had told him to let me leave, and he had listened—just as I’d wanted. But a huge part of me wished he hadn’t. Wished he had fought for me. Wished he had pulled me back into his arms and refused to let go.
Because as much as my magic burned and as terrifying as this bond was… I wanted him.