Page 29

"It sounds like a disaster.” The corner of her mouth twitches. "This is the least scientific approach to cohabitation in recorded history."

"Consider it a spontaneity exercise," I tug her close again. "Besides, I believe a certain podcast host once said that the best growth happens outside your comfort zone."

"Pretty sure I was talking about communication vulnerability, not chaos-induced moving disasters," she mutters, but she's relaxing against me again. "You're lucky I love you."

"The luckiest," I agree, kissing her softly. "And I promise, once we're settled, you can organize every inch of our place. Color-code the kitchen, alphabetize my jerseys, whatever makes your little Type-A heart happy."

"Don't think this gets you out of trouble," she warns, though her fingers are already threading through my hair in that way that makes everything below my waist just a little bit stiffer. "I'm still making a spreadsheet for unpacking."

"Wouldn't expect anything less," I murmur against her lips.

The pizza grows cold, forgotten, as we reacquaint ourselves after three weeks apart.

Her glasses fog slightly from our heated kisses, making her laugh as she removes them, setting them carefully aside before crawling back into my lap.

But this time, there’s no teasing in her eyes. No joking between breaths.

Just heat. Hunger.

Home.

“Three weeks is too fucking long,” I growl, my hands skating up under her sweatshirt, finding nothing but bare skin beneath. “Jesus, Piper.”

She arches into my touch, lips grazing mine with a whimper that’s half sigh, half demand. “No bra. No panties. I’ve been like this all day.”

My cock twitches hard in my sweats.

“You planned this,” I murmur, dragging my mouth along her jaw, to that spot just below jaw that makes her shudder. “You little menace.”

“I had a feeling you wouldn’t make it past the couch,” she breathes, raking her fingers through my still-damp hair. “God, I missed your mouth.”

“You’ll get reacquainted real soon,” I promise, shifting so she’s straddling me more fully. “But first, I want to look at you.”

I strip the sweatshirt off her slowly, worshipfully, like unwrapping the most dangerous gift I’ve ever wanted.

Her nipples are already tight, the flush rising across her chest gorgeous and infuriating because I didn’t get to watch it build.

I palm her breast and she gasps, grinding down against me. “Fuck, Liam.”

“You don’t even know, baby,” I rasp, rolling my hips beneath her, letting her feel how hard I am. “I’ve been jerking off to the sound of your voice for three goddamn weeks. Talking sweet on those late-night calls while I stroked my cock, pretending your mouth was on me.”

“Liam,” she moans, dragging her hips again. “I wanted you so bad last night. I came with my fingers in me, whispering your name like a prayer.”

I grip her ass and squeeze. “Show me. Show me how you touch yourself when I’m gone.”

“Not tonight,” she whispers, eyes burning. “Tonight, I need you. Not my fingers. Not a fantasy. You inside me.”

And dammit, I’m helpless against that.

I rise with her still wrapped around me, kissing her like I’m starving, like I’ve never tasted her before.

Her legs tighten around my waist as I carry her to the bed, dropping her onto the mattress with a bounce.

She scrambles back, eyes locked on mine, pulling off her socks like she’s shedding every last barrier.

By the time I get my shirt and sweats off, I’m fully hard, my cock bobbing up thick and ready.

Piper’s gaze drops to it, her lips parting.

“I forgot how big you are.”

I grin, gripping the base. “That’s because I haven’t ruined you in weeks.”

“Ruin me now.”

I climb over her slowly, kissing my way up her stomach, her sternum, her breasts—taking my time, because fuck if I don’t want to savor this.

Savor her.

But she’s done being patient. Her hands fist in my hair and yank me up until our mouths crash again, all tongue and teeth and raw need.

I reach down, stroking between her legs, finding her drenched and swollen.

“Goddamn, Pipes,” I groan. “You’re so wet for me.”

“You going to just play with it,” she pants, “or are you going to fuck me?”

“Say please.”

She grabs my ass and arches up. “Please, Liam. Please fuck me until I forget my own name.”

It takes everything I have to sheath myself quickly, to not just slam into her like a man unhinged.

I line up and push inside—slow, deep, one unrelenting inch at a time.

We both groan as I bottom out, her body clutching me like she’s been missing me just as desperately.

“Jesus, yes,” she whimpers, her head falling back, eyes fluttering. “You feel so fucking good.”

“You feel like home,” I rasp, barely able to hold still with how tight and hot she is. “I missed this. Missed you.”

Then I move—deep, hard thrusts that have her crying out, her nails dragging lines down my back.

“You like that, baby?”

“Yes. Please. God, don’t stop.”

“You want it harder?” I growl, gripping her thighs and angling her just right.

“Yes, please. Just-”

I slam into her, watching her mouth drop open, watching her lose herself completely.

And I can’t stop talking, can’t stop telling her everything I’ve been holding back for weeks.

“You’re mine, Piper. Every inch of you. Every sound you make. I’m going to fill you up so good you’ll be dripping for days.”

“Oh my god, Liam.”

“Say it.”

“I’m yours,” she gasps. “All yours.”

And when she comes—tightening around me with a broken cry—I follow right behind, burying myself deep with a final, guttural groan.

We sink to the mattress top together, in a sweaty, tangled heap, her breath hot against my chest.

Neither of us says anything for a long minute.

Just the sound of our heartbeats becoming one. Just the truth of what this is settling over both of us like gravity.

Eventually, she shifts enough to murmur against my skin, “This is going to be our bed tomorrow.”

I smile, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “And every night after that.”

She hums sleepily, draping a leg over mine. “You realize I’m going to have to update my entire calendar now. And reconfigure the closet flow.”

“Sounds like foreplay to me.”

“Everything sounds like foreplay to you.”

“Only when it comes to you.”

She laughs, low and soft.

And I don’t tell her yet that tomorrow I plan to put a ring on her finger.

That I want every chaotic, spreadsheet-planned, dirty-talking, pizza-on-the-floor moment for the rest of my life.

But I will. Soon.

For now, I just hold her.

And feel her heartbeat under my palm.

And know that for once—finally—we’re exactly where we’re supposed to be.

Thanks for reading Pucking My Brother’s Best Friend!

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