Page 82 of Off Script

“Now.”

Caroline looked between them, smiling with the kind of gracious confusion only a politician’s wife or a seasoned Hollywood spouse could master. Jacob met her smile with one of his own, a quick curve of his lips that didn’t reach his eyes, before letting Liam pull him away.

They slipped down a hallway lined with catering tables. Staff looked up, then dropped their eyes, pretending not to see. The music and laughter receded behind them, fading to a pulse behind the walls. They finally stopped in a corridor where no one else had reason to pass.

Jacob pulled free. “What are you doing?”

“I could ask you the same,” he said, hearing the anger in his own voice.

"You dragged me away to pick a fight? Here?"

A humorless sound escaped Liam’s throat. “Not to fight. I just…” He raked a hand through his hair, the words tumbling out after being held too long. “I couldn’t watch it anymore.”

“Watch what?”

“You. With her. Like none of this…” He gestured between them. “…matters.”

Jacob’s eyes narrowed. “It matters.”

Liam stepped in, close enough to feel his breath. “Do you still fuck her?”

He hadn’t meant to say it. The words tasted bitter and sharp, and once out they couldn’t be dragged back. They’d never talkedabout this, barely even touched on the lives they went home to, but Liam needed to know. He couldn’t carry the question around one second longer.

Jacob went still.

“Tell me,” Liam said, softer now, almost a plea. “Do you?”

Jacob’s jaw locked tight, eyes turning to the side—and that was his answer.

“Say it,” Liam pushed. “Say you still climb into her bed, kiss her, pretend I don’t exist.”

“Liam,” Jacob warned.

“What, afraid I won’t like the truth?”

“Stop.”

The pressure in Liam’s chest burst. “Do you fuck her and then touch me the same way? Am I just a distraction, Jacob? A little stress relief before you crawl back into—”

Jacob moved. His hand fisted in Liam’s jacket before he slammed him against the wall, the shock of it stealing his breath. Jacob’s voice burned with anger. “You want the truth? I haven’t touched her since the first time I fucked you.”

Liam’s heart stumbled.

“I don’t kiss her,” Jacob went on, each word deliberate. “Her mouth feels all wrong. I can’t touch her—she doesn’t make those desperate little sounds you make. She doesn’t claw at me. And sheneverfalls apart in my hands the way you do.”

The air between them was molten.

“And her eyes?” His gaze locked on Liam’s. “They’re not that shade of whiskey that ruins me every damn time.”

“Jacob—”

“I used to think pussy was the holy grail. Thought I’d die in it.” His voice broke, his forehead pressing to Liam’s. “Now? Now all I want is you. Your mouth. Your moans. That greedy little ass. The way you beg when I’ve got you pinned.”

They stayed locked there, chests heaving, breathing like they’d just run a marathon. Heat rolled off Jacob in waves. His eyes didn’t move from Liam’s face when he said, “Happy now?”

Liam couldn’t speak. Couldn’t think. The world had narrowed to Jacob’s voice and the wild, erratic thrum of his own heartbeat. The truth Jacob had just laid bare overwhelmed him.

Jacob’s eyes searched his, refusing to let him look away. “What about you?” he asked, voice scraped raw. “If I have to answer, so do you.”