Page 23

I don't know who moves first.

But suddenly, he's right there.

And I'm not moving away.

His fingers skim my wrist, barely there, but I feel it everywhere. My pulse stutters. My breath shivers. My entire body goes still.

And then—then—his gaze drops to my mouth.

And I know.

I know.

He's going to kiss me.

I can feel it in the way his grip tightens around my waist, the way his gaze flickers to my lips, the way his breath brushes against my skin, warm and uneven. I know it in the way my heart slams against my ribs, in the way my body leans toward him like it can't believe this is fake.

Then he does.

His lips crush against mine, firm and sure, his hands sliding up my back, pulling me closer, like he needs this as much as I do. There's nothing careful about it, nothing hesitant, just heat and hunger and the kind of desperation that's been simmering under the surface for far too long.

I don't even remember closing my eyes. All I know is that I'm kissing him back. My fingers fist into his shirt, his heartbeat pounding against my palm. I tilt my head, and he groans into my mouth, deep and low, like I've just given him something he wasn't sure he was allowed to have.

It should scare me, how much I want this. How much I want him.

But it doesn't.

Not until I feel it tipping too far.

Because when Liam Carter kisses, he doesn't do it halfway. He takes. Consumes. And I—God help me—I want to be consumed.

That's exactly why I have to stop this.

I break the kiss, breathless, my forehead still resting against his. His hands stay where they are, steady and warm against my lower back, but he doesn't move, doesn't pull me back in. He just watches me, his blue eyes dark and unreadable, like he's waiting for me to make the next move.

I swallow hard. "Liam, I…"

His thumb brushes against my waist. Not pushing. Just there.

"I know," he says, voice rough, and I think he actually does.

He knows that if we keep going, I won't stop him. That I won't want to stop him. And that's the problem.

Because this? This isn't supposed to mean anything.

I step back. His hands fall away. The loss of his warmth is immediate.

The silence stretches. Not awkward, but aware.

Then Liam exhales, dragging a hand down his face. "Right. Okay." He nods once, like he's trying to pull himself together, then glances at me. "You hungry?"

That catches me off guard. "What?"

"Dinner," he says, moving past me toward the kitchen, like nothing just happened. "You need to eat."

I stare at him. Liam Carter just kissed me like a man starved, and now he wants to talk about food?

"Are you seriously?—"