Page 57

She's hesitating, not because she doesn't believe in the plan but because she's afraid of what it might mean. What it might cost.

And maybe—just maybe—because she's starting to realize how much this is affecting me, too.

She shakes her head, her frustration boiling over. "I just…" She exhales sharply. "I don't get you."

I raise a brow. "Thanks?"

She scowls. "You want to protect me, but you won't tell me the whole truth. You act like I need to stay out of this, but you keep pulling me deeper in."

"Ava—"

"No," she cuts me off, eyes flashing. "You want me to trust you? Fine. Then be honest with me, Liam. Because I'm so goddamn tired of feeling like I'm the only one who doesn't know what's going on."

I pinch the bridge of my nose, trying to find the words. Trying to piece together something that doesn't sound like an excuse.

But she's looking at me like she's demanding the truth. Like she won't accept anything less.

So I tell her the part that matters.

"I'm afraid," I admit, voice rough. "Of what Vanessa is capable of. Of what happens if we make the wrong move. Of what happens to you if this spirals out of control." I shake my head. "And yeah, I'm afraid of this. Of us. Because I don't know how to do this without wanting more than I should."

Silence.

Ava's lips part slightly, like she wasn't expecting that.

Hell, I wasn't expecting it either.

She swallows. "Liam?—"

I step forward before she can say anything else.

Because I already know that if I let her speak, if I let her think about this too much, she'll put distance between us again. She'll tell me this is a bad idea, that we're in too deep, that we should stop whatever the hell this is before it's too late.

And I can't let that happen.

I cup her face in my hands, my thumb brushing over her cheek, and I kiss her.

And this time, she kisses me back like she knows exactly what this is. Exactly what it's becoming.

Exactly what's at stake.

Every ounce of restraint, every carefully built wall shatters.

I don't move gently. I don't ask for permission.

She doesn't want that, and I sure as hell don't, either.

My hands tighten around her face, angling her just right, deepening the kiss until she gasps into my mouth. That sound? I drink it in, pressing my body flush against hers, pressing her back step by step until she collides with the nearest wall.

She exhales, her hands fisting the front of my jacket, pulling me in instead of pushing me away.

Good.

Because I'm not stopping this time.

My mouth moves hungrily against hers, demanding, taking. I bite her lower lip, teasing, tugging, then soothe it with my tongue, groaning when she melts into me.

She's fire in my hands.