Page 71 of An Inevitable Marriage

“Good.” His lips twitched. “That’s good.”

His gaze captured mine and held. The air shifted. Tension coiled around us, and suddenly, every moment, every breath was charged with meaning.

Again, we moved closer. Like the opposite ends of a magnet.

I breathed him in. His scent so deliciously intoxicating, I swayed a little. His hand came up, the anticipation of his touch excruciating. A sweet, delectable torture that left me yearning for the inevitable.

Only it never came.

Mere inches from my face, Liam balled his hand into a fist and shoved it into his slacks.

“Go to bed, Snow.”

It wasn’t an order but rather a plea. I felt the desperation of it in every cell of my body.

In my dreams, his solemn request wouldn’t have mattered. I would have pushed onto my toes, taken his face in my hands, and kissed him until both of us couldn’t see straight. Hell, in my dreams, he wouldn’t have asked me to leave in the first place.

His hands would have been all over me, giving me more pleasure than my body could handle.

But this wasn’t a dream. It was reality, one in which Liam wanted to touch me but wouldn’t allow himself to.

Ignoring the tight squeeze behind my ribs, I pushed my hair behind my ear and whispered, “Goodnight, Liam.”

Chapter nineteen

Liam

Thegym’swallsreverberatedwith the rhythmic thud of leather gloves striking heavy bags. On the days when we needed it, Rafe and I would meet here to work out our frustrations.

For him, it was usually about his father, and for me, my grandfather and cousin.

Today, though, my frustration came from a five-foot-four dark-haired woman who happened to be my wife.

She’d unlocked something inside me, and as desperately as I wanted to shove the key into her palm and demand she throw it away, I couldn’t.

I wanted more.

Wanted to get to know her. Emotionally, intimately.

I just didn’t know how to ask for it.

Last night in the kitchen, I was close. So bloody close I would have kissed her if the damn voice inside my head hadn’t made itself known.

Not a voice exactly but rather the cold timbre of my father’s laugh, wordlessly taunting me that I was just like him.

I hated it. Hated him.

Hated even more that the fear of becoming a monster overpowered every other emotion like a dark shadow slowly stealing the light until it consumed everything.

I was sick of it.

And I didn’t know how to get away from it.

With these thoughts still on my mind, I finished my stretch and joined Rafe in the ring.

“So about last night.” He threw a jab, testing my defenses.

I slipped it with ease, returning a quick right hook to his body. “What about it?”