Page 128 of Cruel When He Smiles

His lashes flutter, his lips parting as I move again, keeping the pace torturously slow. “Liam, I can’t—” he gasps, his legs tightening around me, pulling me deeper.

“You need it rough?” I ask, picking up the pace a little. “Need me to take the softness away?”

He pulls me close. “No—”

“Want me to keep it like this?”

His nod is frantic. “Yes. Yes, please—” He moans, his whole body shaking under me. “I don’t want this to end.”

I pause, and my heart stutters in my chest because I fucking agree. So, I slow down, grinding deep instead of thrusting, drawing my fingers up his sides, across his ribs, to the center of his chest again, where his heart’s beating too fast. I press my hand there, palm flat, and look him in the eyes. “It doesn’t have to.”

His breath catches, and his hand slips around my wrist to hold it there. “Even if I’m not easy?”

I blink at that. “You think I want easy?” I ask, lips ghosting along his jaw as I continue to fuck him slowly. “Fuck no. I want you, just like this. Every broken, stubborn, perfect part of you.”

Nate whimpers, tipping his head forward until our foreheads rest together, and I start moving slowly again, fucking him with purpose.

His hands are all over me, and I feel no revulsion. His breath is coming in desperate little gasps between every kiss, every thrust. I can feel how close he is in the way his thighs start to tremble and his leaking cock drags against my shirt.

“You can come,” I whisper, brushing my nose against his. “Go ahead, baby. Make a mess of me.”

His body tenses all at once, heels digging into the mattress, mouth open in a silent cry as he comes hard between us, hot and wet and desperate. His entire body arches off the bed, and I fuck him through it, groaning when he clenches around me—tight, spasming, perfect.

“Fuck—Nate—fuck—”

I follow half a second later, hips slamming forward as I spill inside him, groaning his name against his mouth like it’s a confession I shouldn’t be allowed to make.

He whimpers beneath me, hands still clutching at my shoulders, his body twitching from the aftershocks. When I finally still, I stay there, breathless, and don’t pull out.

I brush his sweat-soaked hair from his forehead and press a kiss there. The way he looks at me—fuck. It’s too much right now.

I should look away. I should close my eyes and just focus on the feeling of him, but I can’t. I can’t stop looking at him, can’t stop memorizing the way his lips part, the way his brow furrows.

And then, the ache in my chest sharpens.

I don’t know what I’m supposed to do with this feeling, this tightness in my ribs, this fucking warmth that I didn’t ask for. I don’t understand it.

Nate moves his hips beneath me, his hands sliding up to cup my face, his touch gentle and hesitant. His gaze searches mine, something soft in his expression, something dangerous.

I let my forehead drop against his, eyes slipping shut for a second before I force them open again, because I want to see this. I want to seehimlike this.

The world outside doesn’t matter. The bed could burn, and I wouldn’t move. Not when Nate’s gaze is fixed on me like I’m the only thing that’s ever made sense to him. And maybe that’s why I can’t look away—because for once, I’m not sure which one of us is holding the other in place.

I let my other hand find his, lacing our fingers together over the rapid beat of his heart. He doesn’t pull back. He squeezes three times, then loosens his grip, but keeps our hands joined. My chest feels too small for my lungs, and I don’t know if it’s because of the heat, the closeness, or the fact that I’m not trying to run from it.

His eyes flick to my mouth, then back up, and I know if I kiss him again, I won’t be able to stop. I hover there anyway, close enough to feel the faint brush of his breath on my lips. He doesn’t move to close the distance, and neither do I.

It’s a standoff we both win.

The sheets are damp under us, his skin slick and warm against mine, our bodies still tangled, still connected. I know I should pull back before this turns into something I can’t undo, but I don’t. I just hold his gaze and let him hold mine, until the rest of the world fades so far away it might never come back.

Liam

He’slooseagainstme,content, his entire being settled into something safe.

And I did that.

I got him here. I pulled him under, let him let go, let him trust me. God, I love seeing Nate like this—blissed out, soft, and mine. I love that I can pull sounds from him that I’ve never heard before, sounds that aren’t sharp with defiance or rough with frustration, but something helpless, something so fucking sweet it makes my blood burn hotter.