Chapter 31
Tessa
Idon’t remember a time I’ve been touched like this—kissed like this. Liam Montgomery may say it’s been a long time for him, but I suddenly feel the same. Because if this is the comparison… I’ve gone my whole life without.
Liam backs me toward his bed, solid heat pressed between us, and I can't help angling my hips just enough to feel him exactly where I need him most. “Jesus, Tessa," he exhales.
His chest heaves, and although he just carried me up a flight of stairs, the parts of his body I've seen tells me endurance has nothing to do with it.
A whimper flies from my throat before I can stop it, just as the back of my knees hit the mattress. I fall back, sinking into it, and look up at Liam hovering over me like the powerful force that he is.
"What do you want?" I ask, the sight of him, his honesty and vulnerability—this entire morning—making me eager to please him. To have him.
His jaw ticks as he rakes his hand down the back of his neck. He doesn't answer right away. Instead, his face contorts as if he's… uneasy?
The idea confuses me. We both have had our hesitations with this, but he's been the one smothering my doubts lately. Stifling my excuses.
"What's wrong?" I ask, nerves coiled in my stomach.
He rubs his first two fingers along his brow, drinking me in like he's memorizing me.
"It's been a long time, Tess. Like… really long.
" He blows out a sharp breath, clenches his teeth, and grinds out the rest. "And I know how little it took for me just thinking about you—just hearing you through this goddamn wall. "
All of my blood rushes south—heat pulsing between my legs, low and unrelenting. "That's… okay," I manage.
"It's not." He gnaws at his bottom lip, his eyes pinned on me.
I see how much he's in his head, how his body leans forward despite his mind pulling back. He’s thoughtful—measuring every decision. Cautious. Careful. Reflective. Heat radiates off him, every inch so aware, so dialed in, and it challenges me to want to take that away.
I slip my finger into the elastic at his hips and pull him toward me. He resists briefly before staggering closer. "We can stop if you want," I offer, my voice a breathy contradiction.
Liam falls forward, and I lean back onto my hands to counter his movement.
He braces his weight on either side of me.
"I don't want to stop," he admits, threading his fingers into my hair.
He tugs it gently, dragging his tongue across my lips.
But when I arch into him, he groans as if it hurts and stands back up.
For a flash of a second, I think of Trevor—of that stupid, hollow feeling in my ribs when I saw him in the same position.
But that sick ache wasn't from seeing him with someone else so quickly.
It was from being dismissed so easily… again.
He never saw me—never even tried. He wasn't thoughtful or careful with his words or actions.
But Liam is. And one look at him now reinforces everything I told him last night in the truck—the two are no comparison.
I reach for his shorts again, and he freezes. "Tessa, what—"
"I owe you," I say shyly. "For breakfast."
His brow furrows as he slides a knuckle down my cheek. "You don't owe me a goddamn thing."
"Well, I want to," I say quickly. My throat tightens, but words still come barreling out. "I want you, Liam."
Nothing short of a growl escapes his throat as I sit forward, cautiously reaching for the hem of his shirt and sliding it up his chest. He lets me, his eyes glued to mine, then reaches behind him and tugs it the rest of the way off.
I take him in—broad and lean, hair trimmed neatly across his pecs.
It doesn't feel like the first time I've seen him this way, though it is.
I think all along I've pictured perfection.
I press my mouth between his ribs, Liam's head dropping back as I slip my fingertips into his waistband again. I work the elastic past his hips, kissing down the trail that disappears into his tight, black briefs, my own need growing each time my lips touch skin.
"You're beautiful," Liam breathes, his muscles straining as I run my hand over the cotton, palming the length of him.
I tug those down too, releasing all of him, and almost say the same thing. His cock is exactly as I expected—thick, devastating—just like the rest of him. But the way his thighs quake the second my breath floats past him surprises me.
A gravelly sound escapes his throat as I wrap my hand around him, his tip already wet before my lips even brush it.
"I told you… it's been awhile," he murmurs, his voice low—almost broken.
"Since you've been… intimate?" I ask.
His expression shifts—honest, not defensive. "Since I've been touched."
I suck in a breath, privilege stealing the air from my lungs.
"It's strange, I know," he adds quietly.
I shake my head. Any nerves I had about being here before—about all of this—dissipating completely. "It's perfect."
Without waiting any longer, I dip forward, sliding my lips down to his base.
Liam hums as I hollow my cheeks, taking all of him and sucking back up to his tip.
I swirl my tongue through his saltiness, and his breath kicks up, quick and heavy.
I peer up at him to find him watching me—marveling like I'm some sort of wonder.
He slides his hand past my jaw, cradling it—not shifting for me or quickening my movements. He's fully engaged, his eyes trailing my movement as I rock back and forth, and the sight hits differently than I'd expect.
I'm not used to this being about me too—someone savoring the idea of it happening at all. But Liam's not escaping this moment to be somewhere in his mind or rushing to get to the finish line. He's hanging on for dear life, relishing—appreciating—every passing second.
I continue taking all of him at once, my hand following my mouth every time I pull back.
"Holy shit," he pants when I pin him to the back of my throat.
I hum with Liam's cock still buried deep, and his thighs quiver again.
The image alone would be enough to make me wet if I wasn't already—my ability to make such massive muscles shake beneath my touch is electrifying.
But when he breathes my name like he's reaching for a lifeline, my own legs squeeze together.
"Tessa." He grips my hair tightly, pumping in and out as he empties inside me.
Now, it's my turn to savor him, catching his release, full and thick like it was built-up just for me. His eyes sink shut as I squeeze out every last drop, swallowing him down as mine glaze with tears.
With one heavy breath, Liam's head lolls forward again, and I stand to meet him. He looks down at me with that same admiration, wiping the edge of my lip with his thumb.
But then something changes.
His face turns serious as he tucks himself back into his briefs, pulling his shorts back over his hips. He turns without warning and leaves the room, draping me first in confusion before a jumble of thoughts take over.
Here I am—lips bruised, leggings soaked between my thighs, lungs empty and cheeks flushed—and he… leaves? Suddenly, the temperature in the room feels infinitely warmer.
I just got done reminding myself that everything Liam does is thoughtful—considerate. But still, instinct kicks in, and I can't help but feel… dismissed. Again.
I rip at the hem of my t-shirt, pulling it up my chest. Now I'm even more exposed, but I can't care—I need relief from the heat crawling up my skin. I tug the fabric over my head, but as I toss it to the floor, more than the cool air calms me down.
"You thought I left," Liam says, standing in the doorframe, a wad of Gator green balled in one hand.
"You did," I mutter, hyper-aware that I'm now standing in just a bra and the damp leggings he caused.
Liam strides to me in three quick steps, smoothing my hair back over my shoulder. "To get this." He holds up a piece of clothing I don't need to question, and just the smell of it erases the last sixty seconds.
"Why do you—"
"Put it on," he says, his voice husky.
My fingers reach for it before I consciously decide to, my end of the magnet drawn right to his.
I turn the sweatshirt over, dipping one arm inside, but Liam grabs at my elbow, stopping me. "Only this."
His eyes glaze over in a way I've never seen before—from anyone.
"Liam…" I mutter, that self-consciousness still lingering in the back of my mind.
"Please," he begs desperately.
I nod once, then twist toward the bed, allowing gravity to pull the hoodie onto the mattress. When I turn back to him, we lock eyes again as I reach behind me to unclip my bra.
The satin drops to the floor, the soft brush as it hits the carpet echoing around us. Liam drinks me in the same way he's done everything else leading up to this moment—patiently. Cautiously. He drags a palm down his face, and I arch ever so slightly, my peaks reaching for him. For his touch.
His eyes slink shut after he watches it happen, but he doesn't grant me that. Instead, he gestures toward my leggings. I swallow the need gathering underneath my tongue and dip my fingertips into my waistband. My own touch on my skin sends shivers down my spine and encourages me to move faster.
I slide the lycra down my legs and pull them off, suddenly unashamed at how exposed I am—how ready. Liam steps forward, and just when I think he might finally put those big, calloused hands on me, he dips behind me, his sweet breath drifting past my neck.
He reappears with his clubhouse-only sweatshirt in his hands.
"Arms up, Tessa."
I oblige, and he slides the thick material over my head, the heavy cotton sweeping over my aching nipples. He drops down to pull the hem past my hips, exhaling deeply—purposely—past my core.
I whimper, and he flies back up, closer than ever. "My God," Liam groans, hovering over me. He leans down and peppers kisses up the side of my neck. "I've wanted this since I threw my sweatshirt into the stands."
"To see me in it?" I ask, somewhat confused.
Because he has. He did.
Liam nudges me gently, and I fall onto the bed. "To taste you in it."
My breath stutters as I settle onto the mattress, and as if he commanded them to, my knees fall open as Liam sinks to the floor.
"Maybe we should go slower?" I mutter, still open and ready. I hate that this feels… inconvenient for him. He drags his pointer finger down my middle, and my hips buck in response.
"I think this is as slow as I can manage," he admits, his breath just inches from my center.
I gulp down the sound I want to make. "You don't have to…" I start instead, but my voice trails off. I can't say it aloud—
Do this.
Reciprocate.
Liam pauses, his face stern. He kisses the inside of my thigh, then climbs up over me, his muscles straining to bear his weight on either side of my body. "Don't you dare finish that sentence," he murmurs, pressing his lips roughly to mine. "Don't even think it."
I gasp, then nod, as his reaction soothes something in me.
Liam smiles before lowering himself back to the ground. "Slow," he promises as his lips cover my clit.
My hand dives into his hair as he begins to suck, careful pulls from his mouth dragging me closer to the edge. His number stitched on my sleeve stares up at me, a reminder—or a warning—that from here on out, everything will change.
Again.
Because everything that's happened in this room—that's still happening now—hits differently. Harder.
It all makes it real.
As if reading my mind, Liam looks up at me, his eyes dark, his mouth glistening, and that tension eases in my chest.
Maybe real is exactly what I need.