Chapter 13
Stephanie
The storm was still raging outside, wind howling against the house like it wanted in, rain slamming the roof in wild, uneven bursts. But inside Liam’s bed, there was a different kind of storm—quiet, contained, burning through me inch by inch.
We lay close enough that his body heat touched my skin, but not close enough to actually touch. Two inches. Two devastating inches.
It felt like those two inches were tearing me apart.
My body wouldn’t settle. My skin felt too tight, too alive, too aware of every breath he took. I kept swallowing, trying to ease the dryness in my throat, the flutter in my chest, the heat sliding over my belly like something molten.
God, I wanted him.
Not gently. Not cautiously. Not in the polite, tentative way of someone recovering from trauma.
No—this was different. This was hunger. This was the dam breaking after years of pressure building behind it.
Ever since this morning, my whole body felt like it had woken up from a long, cold sleep. Like blood was moving somewhere it hadn’t moved in months.
I curled my fingers inside the sheets, trying to ground myself, but it didn’t help. My pulse kept stuttering, my thighs kept tightening instinctively, my skin prickling like his hands were already on me.
Every inhale he took brushed across my neck like a ghost of a touch. Every exhale whispered across my shoulder. And I swear I could feel him fighting it too—the tension in his muscles, the way his breath hitched when I shifted even slightly.
I felt like I was coming out of my skin. Like I couldn’t stay still one more second.
Like my body had decided something without asking my permission.
I turned my head, found the shadow of his jaw in the dim light, the strong line of it, the softness where his lips relaxed in sleep—or not sleep. He wasn’t asleep. I’d spent enough nights in this bed to know when he was truly asleep.
My voice came out barely above a whisper, breathless with everything choking me from the inside. “Lee?”
He didn’t move for half a second. Then he inhaled deeply.
I felt that inhale all the way through me. Low. Deep. Like a spark landing in dry grass.
He turned his head just enough that I could see the outline of his eyes in the dark, watching me, waiting, the air between us suddenly hot and fragile.
“Yeah, sweetheart?” he murmured, voice rough with grogginess or want or both.
"I can't sleep."
"The storm will pass."
I swallowed roughly. “It’s not the storm."
Silence except for rain attacking the roof like it had a personal vendetta against shingles.
"This morning—" I started.
"We don't have to talk about—"
"I want to. I need to." I turned toward him in the darkness, and could barely make out his profile between lightning flashes. "I've been on fire all day. Since this morning. Since before this morning. Since you carried me out of LA, if I'm honest."
"Steph—"
"No, listen. Please." Lightning illuminated his face for a heartbeat—jaw clenched, eyes on the ceiling, control held by threads. "I feel like the storm. Like there's all this electricity under my skin with nowhere to go. Like I'm going to explode if I don't...if we don't..."
"You're still healing."
"I'm tired of healing. I'm tired of being careful. I'm tired of waiting for some perfect moment when I'm completely fixed." I sat up, the sheet falling away, my tank top clinging to me from the humidity. "I don't want to be fixed. I want to be alive. And you make me feel alive."
He sat up too, and in the next lightning flash I saw his face—hungry, desperate, barely controlled. "What are you saying?"
"I'm saying I want you. Completely. Wholly.
In every way a person can be wanted. Not because you're safe—though you are.
Not because you're here—though thank God you are.
But because you're you. Because you're the only person I've ever been completely myself with. Because my body remembers Austin and wants more. I want more.”
Thunder rolled through, long and low, and when it passed, I continued.
"We don't have to name this. Whatever this is between us—friendship, love, destiny, disaster—I don't care. Our worlds don't fit together, I know that. You belong here on this ranch, and I belong...hell, I don't know where I belong. But right here, right now, in this bed, we fit. Don't we?"
"Steph—"
"Don't we?" I moved closer, close enough to feel his breath.
I took his hand in mine, savoring his warmth, just how much bigger it was than mine.
"Tell me you don't want this. Tell me you haven't been thinking about it all day. That this morning wasn’t just a fraction of what’s between us.
Tell me you don't remember Austin, that hotel room, the way we—"
He kissed me. Not gentle, not careful, but like a dam breaking. His hands were in my hair, his mouth desperate on mine, and I could taste everything he'd been holding back—weeks of want, years of waiting, decades of loving me from afar.
I laid back, pulling Liam down with me. His body was big and safe on top of mine. His mouth claimed mine with rough, urgent kisses that made my head spin.
Just like the storm outside, we’d been unleashed.
I reached behind him, frantic hands tugging at his shirt.
He pulled it off and tossed it carelessly across the room, his focus solely on me.
My mouth watered at the sight of him. All warm skin and defined muscle crafted from hard work and discipline.
The personification of every dream I’ve ever had.
Liam didn’t waste any time, and my shirt came off next, the air cool against my overheated skin. He knelt back on his knees, breathing hard. “Fuck, baby, look at you.” His hands slid up my thighs before hooking them in the waistband of my panties.
“You better do more than just look,” I demanded while he pulled them down painfully slow.
His smile was pure sin when he looked up at me. “You’ve always been a bossy little thing.” My panties flew over his shoulder, joining the rest of our clothes on the floor. He peered up at me through his brows and spread my legs apart before lowering between them.
My breath caught in the back of my throat when his mouth met my pussy. He groaned low and rough as his tongue swept along my entrance. He was confident and assured, as if he still knew every inch of me from all those years ago. Liquid heat rushed down my spine, settling low.
“Five years,” he rasped between open-mouthed kisses. “Five fucking years I’ve been thinking about this. About how good you taste.”
He lowered his head again, brown eyes locked on mine, while his mouth latched onto my clit.
My jaw dropped with a moan, unable to look away while he reminded me why no one else ever compared.
“So good,” I whimpered, tangling my fingers in his dark hair.
My eyes rolled shut, hips bucking against his face. “So fucking good, baby.”
Liam moaned again, his tongue moving faster. “Oh God,” I cried out when he slipped two fingers in me knuckle deep. The stretch was perfection, memory not doing it justice. My toes curled. My back arched. I felt like I was melting right into the mattress.
He pumped his fingers in time with his tongue. A quick pace that turned me breathless and desperate. “More,” I begged, my voice trembling with need.
“Want you coming on my fingers first,” he said, voice rough and lips glistening with my wetness.
It was easily one of the hottest things I’d ever seen.
He curved his fingers, and my jaw dropped with a gasp.
“Come for me just like this,” he ordered, arching those thick fingers in a come-hither motion.
“I know you can do it for me, sweetheart.”
I moaned low. Jesus Christ. With that voice? Looking up at me like I’d hung the moon? I’d walk through fire for him.
My head tilted back against the pillows, eyes fluttering shut at how good he felt. He knew everywhere to touch and lick and tease. Because he knew me. Every dark corner, all the ugly pieces I tried to hide. Knew all of me and stayed and loved me in spite of it all.
“Lee,” I whimpered, right at the edge. I reached for his free hand, and he interlocked our fingers, his grip tight.
“That’s it,” he murmured, sounding pleased. “That’s my girl.”
His girl. Those words hit me like a tidal wave, knocking me straight over the edge. I came hard; thighs tightening around his head, his name a strained cry on my lips, my hand tangled in his hair.
And when my breathing evened, he crawled up my body, leaving kisses in a burning trail of heat on my skin. Wordlessly, he grabbed one of my legs and hiked it over his hip. Our eyes locked. My chest tightened at the love in his eyes. The devotion.
His hips nudged forward, his cock slipping in slow enough I could feel every hard, glorious inch.
I reached for his arms, bracing against the stretch. His jaw dropped on a groan, watching as he filled me. “Goddamn,” he grunted. “So fucking tight, baby.”
“I think you just have a huge dick,” I said with a breathy chuckle. Memory definitely hadn’t done this justice either. I’d never been so full, like every single inch of me was consumed by another person. But I wouldn’t have it any other way.
He looked up at me, concern clouding the lust in his eyes. “Too much?”
I cradled his face in my hands, bringing his mouth to mine. “Perfect,” I murmured against his lips. “Absolutely perfect.”
He kissed me then before pulling back and surging forward roughly. My eyes fluttered shut. Our moans tangled together, mixing with the storm raging outside.
Liam fucked me slow and hard. Steady. Unfaltering. Just like he’d always been. Like I knew he’d always be.
“God, Steph,” he groaned in the crook of my neck, kissing everywhere he could reach as if he couldn’t get enough. I’d never felt so treasured, so special.