24. Twenty-Four #2
I shake his shoulder and suddenly his eyes snap open, scaring the crap out of me. His hand shoots out, fingers clamping around my wrist. My stomach drops as I stare into those empty blue eyes and realize my mistake.
My voice trembles. “Liam…it’s me…”
Before I can finish, he lunges forward. My back hits the mattress with a thud. His weight pins me down, forcing the air from my lungs.
His eyes are wild and unseeing, boring into mine as if I’m some faceless threat.
This isn’t the calculating monster I know.
It’s worse. Liam isn’t here behind those eyes, and somehow, I need to call him back.
I struggle to breathe beneath his weight.
My thoughts scatter like marbles, but beneath my racing pulse, I know he won’t hurt me.
For all his flaws, Liam isn’t the predator I’ve made him out to be. He’s becoming my sanctuary.
“Liam,” I whisper again, steadier, as I cup his face. “It’s just me.”
His gaze holds mine, pupils dilated and alert, but the stare stays uninhabited.
I’ve been there myself stuck in that limbo between nightmare and consciousness where reality blurs.
Finally, recognition flickers in his eyes, and waves of emotion surround me because I thought he’d look at me with a gentle gaze.
But his stare only holds anger, and his grip pins my wrists above my head.
“What the fuck are you doing?” His deep voice stirs a darker entity within me, and I can’t find words.
I plead with my eyes for him to never show this side of him ever again, my heart sinking. He slams my wrists harder against the mattress. “What the fu—”
“You were having a nightmare,” I manage. “I just—”
“And you thought what, Sara? That it’s a brilliant idea to get yourself killed?” His jaw clenches, anger barely masking the panic in his eyes. Now morphing into vulnerability.
“No, I…” I swallow. “I couldn’t leave you like that. I wanted to help.”
“I could’ve fucking killed you.” His expression softens, rage melting into anguish as he buries his face against my neck, his breath warm against my skin. “I could’ve hurt you.”
“But you didn’t,” I mumble. His weight presses me into the mattress, but instead of feeling trapped, I feel sheltered. Protected. I want to crawl into his soul, wrap my arms around his pain, around his heart, and help him see he’s not alone anymore. His grip on my wrists loosens.
“Fuck, Sara…” His hand lowers to my collarbone while the other curves around the small of my back, pulling me closer to his body.
I’ve craved his touch, awakening my body to tremble with need.
I cup his face in my hands, forcing his gaze to meet mine. A single tear runs down his cheek, and the sight cracks something open inside me. I know this man will only carve deeper wounds into me.
“I know you wouldn’t hurt me, Liam. I trust you.” His jaw tightens.
“Trust me? That’s the last thing you should do. I will hurt and break you until breathing becomes painful. You’ll realize you never truly lived before me.”
I drag my hand down his face. “Quite poetic for someone just saying they’re bad news.”
A low laugh escapes him, and I smile, laced with sadness, anticipation, and something darker stirring beneath it all.
I yearn for him to silence the depraved thoughts whirling in my mind about him. His lips hover inches above mine, tantalizingly close, setting off sparks of ache in every nerve ending.
My mouth pains with the raw need to taste him, to feel the rough and soft texture of his lips against mine again. I still think about that kiss in his kitchen. I crave the sting of his touch, his dominance since then, and it’s been months now.
“I’m going to fucking ruin you,” he growls.
His hand grips my nape with an iron clasp, and he brands me with his kiss. I gasp, a moan slipping out as he answers all my pent-up craving against his hard body, and I draw him closer. My fingers run through his hair and down his strong, muscular back, his skin burns at my fingertips.
He’s my sin in flesh, but I can’t summon even a smidgen of willpower to resist him.
All I can do is arch my back and feel his hard length against my stomach while his tongue devours my mouth.
His breathy moan spreads a heat to my center, goosebumps erupting where his hands travel down to my breasts, circling my nipples under my shirt.
The sensation shouldn’t feel so drunken, but I can’t help the fever of need taking over me.
My path to hell lies wide open to be ruined by an absolutely beautiful man.
“Liam…” I moan uncontrollably. I can feel my desire pooling between my legs, I need friction, like I need air. I’ve never been this turned on.
“Be careful what you beg for, Sara…”
“Liam…” I moan again, kissing his jaw, traveling down his neck, my hands slipping under his shirt to his hard chest and it instantly feels like home, even though it shouldn’t. His pulse under my palm, his blood rushing beneath his skin.
“Sara… if you don’t stop…” His words give way to a groan as my hand ventures toward the swell in his sweatpants, feeling his rigid thickness in my hand, for me, is euphoric.