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Liam takes my hand again, leading me inside. The loft is still cast in the dim, sleepy light of dawn, shadows stretching long against the floor. But it's not the city that has my attention. It's the way Liam moves—controlled, assured, like he knows exactly where this is going and exactly how to take his time getting there.

He walks me through the space, past the kitchen, past the flickering glow of the city lights against glass, until we reach his bedroom.

The door clicks shut behind us.

The room is minimalist, dark sheets tangled over a wide bed, the faintest scent of cedar lingering in the air. It feels intimate, like stepping into a space that belongs to him completely, unguarded and real.

Liam turns to me, his gaze sweeping over my face, searching.

I already know what he's asking.

I answer by stepping closer, tilting my chin up, pressing my lips to his.

His hands skim down my arms, tracing over my skin like he's savoring every inch, every reaction. When his fingers reach the hem of my shirt, he hesitates, just for a breath.

Then, he lifts it slowly, peeling the fabric from my body.

Cool air kisses my skin, but then Liam's hands are there—spanning my waist, exploring the curve of my spine. His lips follow, trailing over my jaw, down my throat, leaving heat in their wake.

I exhale sharply as he presses a kiss just above my collarbone, his stubble grazing sensitive skin.

"You're beautiful," he murmurs against me, voice rough, reverent.

I shiver. "Liam?—"

"Shh." His fingers slide beneath the waistband of my leggings, easing them down with a patience that has me aching. "I want to take my time with you."

He drops to his knees before me, his lips brushing over the bare skin of my hip as he pulls the last barriers away. My breath hitches, heat pooling low, need coiling tighter with every slow, languid touch.

Liam looks up at me from beneath dark lashes, his hands tracing a slow path up my thighs.

"You have no idea," he says, pressing a kiss just above my navel, "how long I've wanted this."

I feel it in the way he touches me—in the way he lingers, in the way he holds himself back, like he wants to draw out every moment, savor every reaction.

His lips find mine again as he stands, guiding me backward until my knees hit the edge of the bed. I sink down, pulling him with me, my hands sliding beneath his shirt, pushing it up, needing more.

He lets me undress him, watching me through half-lidded eyes, his muscles taut beneath my touch.

The anticipation hums between us, electric.

He leans over me, his weight pressing me into the mattress, the warmth of his skin igniting every nerve.

His lips move against mine with slow, controlled hunger, deepening the kiss with every careful shift of his body. His hands roam my skin, mapping me, learning every inch with reverence that makes my pulse stutter.

When he pulls back, his eyes are dark, molten. He braces his forearm beside my head, his breath mingling with mine, the heat between us palpable. "I want to take my time with you," he murmurs, his voice thick with restraint, but the way his hand skims down my torso betrays just how much he's holding back.

I shiver beneath his touch, arching into him as his fingers trace the bare skin of my stomach, lower, teasing. "Then don't stop," I whisper.

A low groan rumbles in his throat, his restraint hanging by a thread. "You don't know what you do to me," he says, more to himself than to me.

Then, he moves.

His lips ghost down my throat, lingering at the hollow of my collarbone before tracing lower. He kisses down my sternum, his tongue flicking against my skin, tasting, teasing, making me writhe beneath him. His hands follow, skimming my waist, gripping my hips, anchoring me to the bed as his mouth continues its slow descent.

I gasp as he reaches the soft skin of my stomach, his lips pressing open-mouthed kisses over the curve of my hip. His stubble scrapes lightly against my skin, sending a shiver up my spine. My fingers tangle in his hair, urging him lower, needing more, but he chuckles against me, his breath warm against my skin.

"So impatient," he murmurs.