Page 146 of Cruel When He Smiles

Liam kisses me like he needs it to fucking breathe. His hands are tight on my hips, gripping like he’s still trying to anchor himself. His lips are desperate against mine, rough and demanding, and I let him take what he needs.

This isn’t about control anymore, not for either of us. This is about staying together and keeping him here.

I drag my fingers through his hair, tugging slightly, grounding him the way he grounds me, reminding him I’m real, that I’m his, that he’s mine. He groans into my mouth with shaky breaths, but his body starts to relax. Not completely. Not all the way. But just enough.

“Liam,” I say against his lips, my hands sliding down from his hair to his throat, pressing hard enough to feel the way his pulse races. “You back with me?”

His breathing is still uneven, but he nods, his forehead pressing against mine, his deathgrip on my hips loosening slightly. “Yeah.”

“Good,” I whisper, dragging my thumbs along his jaw. “Now tell me what the fuck just happened.”

His throat works beneath my fingers, but he doesn’t answer right away and doesn’t even try to dodge the question. That’s how I know this isn’t just one of his mind games. Finally, he lets out a breath, closing his eyes for a second before looking at me again. “I don’t lose control.”

I arch a brow. “That’s a fucking lie.”

He huffs out something close to a laugh, but there’s no real amusement behind it. “Not like that, Nate.”

I soften slightly, brushing my fingers along his throat again. “What set you off?”

His jaw tenses. “You.”

I blink rapidly at that. “Me?”

Liam nods. “You make me want things.” His hands flex against my hips. “Things I was told I couldn’t have. Things I was trained to ignore.”

His voice is tight. Not angry or cold but confused. The same kind of confusion he showed that day at the lookout when he pushed me away. I knew Liam’s parents fucked him up and turned him into the person he is today. But seeing his trauma on full display like this hits fucking different.

“Who told you that?” I ask, and his throat works, his eyes flickering away, just for a second, just long enough for me to know. “Your mother?”

He still can’t meet my eyes, and that tells me everything, so I don’t press. Not when he already feels like he’s fucking falling apart. Instead, I just lean in, pressing my lips to his cheek. “She was wrong.”

His hands tighten on me again. “Was she?”

“Yeah, Lover,” I say, my lips brushing against his skin. “She fucking was.”

The pained breath he lets out breaks my heart and he presses his forehead against mine again. I don’t move, and I don’t push. I just stay here because I know this isn’t something I can fix in one night. This isn’t something I can undo with just a few whispered words. This is something rooted deep inside of him, and for the first time, I understand. I understand why Liam is the way he is. I understand why he’s so obsessive, why he needs to own, to control, to possess.

He was taught that the alternative was being nothing at all.

So, I just stay holding him until his breathing evens out. Until his grip on me loosens. Until the shaking finally stops.

And when he finally speaks, his voice is terse.

“Take me home, Pup.”

The house is quiet when we step inside.

It’s late, but not late enough for this kind of silence. Not late enough for everyone to already be in bed or for there to be no music, no voices, no usual bullshit that comes from ten athletes living under the same roof.

No, they’re awake and watching; I can feel it. Eyes on us from the living room, from the kitchen, from the stairs. I don’t look, and Liam doesn’t either. His gaze is locked on the floor, his shoulders tight, his whole body carrying a weight I know he hates.

He’s not used to feeling like this—exposed, open, fucking fragile. And it’s written all over him.

Killian watches us from the kitchen, leaning against the counter, one eyebrow arched, his head tilting like he’s studying Liam and trying to figure out what the fuck happened.

Sage is farther back by the stairs. His expression flickers between wary and concerned. For a second, I think he’s going to step forward, going to ask if I’m okay, if Liam’s okay, but I shake my head once, a silentnot now.

He doesn’t push.