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I believe that. He doesn’t like to explain or repeat himself, but he did. For me.
The floor creaks as he moseys inside, but I don’t pull my gaze from my clasped hands.
“Look at me, Celeste.” The use of my first name and the iciness of his voice have my eyes finally snapping to his.
A midnight forest, complete with the eerie rustling of a clandestine life, like the wind howling in warning.
He steps between my legs and drags me up to my feet to meet him. One arm slides around my waist while the other clutches my chin. “We’re done with the bullshit where you don’t trust me or fucking believe in us. Right?”
It’s a question and a command, but it’s desperate in a way that I don’t usually hear from Liam. I nod inside his grip and lick my lips because his demanding, controlling, unhinged side does something feral to me. And it feels intense—like the day he made me crawl to him. The day he confessed that he loved me and claimed me and promised me the world.
“This is important,” he insists. “I need verbal confirmation.”
My throat works overtime on a swallow. The whole world seems to fade around me so that nothing exists but this moment, this man, this demand. “Yes. I trust you.”
He exhales but only briefly, and relief is not what I see painting his features. I’m not sure I can put a name to it though.
His hazels meander all over my face. “And you believe in us? In me? Our family? That you’re mine? Ours? And that we would all do anything for you? Anything.”
It’s on the tip of my tongue to ask what that means regarding the book and my father and Ben’s wishes, but before I can, he hits me with, “I know your head is a fucking mess. It’s all been so much—more than you should ever have had to endure. But fuck all that shit. I choose you, baby. Always. We all do.”
Those last few sentences vanquish every fear and concern and insecurity. My mother is wrong. It might be hard, but I’m not alone. I’m shielded behind a fortress of love and protection. They’d never let anyone hurt me. What could matter beyond that? We’ll figure the rest out. My teeth sink into my lip as I nod again.
He kisses my nose and nestles my face against his chest. “That’s my girl. We’re a team. Now and forever.” He palms my head, cheek resting upon my hair, lending a sweetness to this moment, this day, which is so needed. But Liam can’t leave any interaction without chiseling his signature jagged edge into it, so I shouldn’t be surprised when he rasps, “You have three minutes to strip bare, aside from a pair of heels, and meet me in your bedroom.”
I devolve into a fit of giggles because that’s about right. Of course he’s going to fuck me in my parents’ home while everyone waits for us downstairs. My laughter must make him believe I’m going to fight him though because he strengthens his hold on me.
“If you’re late or I hear one goddamn snarky word out of that beautiful mouth, I won’t hesitate to stuff you with my cock right out there, up against the balcony railing, until your filthy cries for more alert not only your parents, but the whole damn HOA that you’re my good little slut who loves to be defiled.” With that, he slaps me on the ass and swaggers away.
I’m just as depraved as him because that threat shoots a zing of elation through me. I don’t hesitate to obey. At this point, why fight it? It’s clear that lunacy is my new reality. And this is one of the main areas that makes it all worth it.
I bolt to my childhood bedroom, scurry into the bathroom, peel off my clothes, quickly freshen up, and shimmy into a pair of sexy black pumps from my closet. When I sashay out to him, he’s standing shirtless, jeans slung low on his hips, golden hair dusting his forehead in a delicious fuck-me shag. His rippling abs tense with a tease when he catches my eyes perusing them, and then he pumps his taut chest muscles beneath the ink that is so clearly a sketch of his deepest parts.
His dimple flashes as he whistles, eyes romping with a twinkle. “Fuck, baby girl. I may be a man destined for damnation, but who the hell cares when I get to sink into heaven every day? You’re a motherfucking dream.”
The smile that splits my face unfolds from the depths of every hope I’ve ever held. This life won’t be easy, but he’s mine. And he’s more. He sees me so clearly. Any other dark clouds can be brushed away.
It’s with that thought that my vision snags on a bar he’s now twirling. God only knows what the hell he’s going to do to me. Life with him will never be boring—that’s for sure.
“What ya got there?” I ask. The tentative nature of my query is undeniable, as is probably the wariness dressing my facial expression.
And my golden god chuckles darkly, which blasts a torrent of excitement and distress through me at once. “Where’s my daredevil girl?” he gibes. “The rock climber, canyoner, white water rafter, motorcycle enthusiast. You’re not scared of a spreader bar, are you, Carver?”
A taunt. A dare. And I’m soaked.
“Nope.” I pop the P and shake my head.
“There she is.” He winks and taps my dresser with the tip of the bar. “Over here. Face the mirror.”
I strut over, ignoring any apprehension still frolicking inside me. The height of the dresser hits a few inches below my chest, so when I stand and place my hands on it, Liam nudges me closer, my breasts pressing against my forearms.
“Hands stay on the dresser, or they get tied. Open for me,” he orders, tapping the inside of my thighs and guiding my legs apart to his desired width—a little wider than my shoulders. Crouching down, he fastens the straps onto my ankles and clicks the bar into place, so I’m frozen this way.
Bare. Open. Wet.
Ready and willing.
When he rises, one hand clutches the front of my throat while his fingers on the other peruse my opening. “So eager. My dirty girl is drenched for me.” He swirls my clit, spreading my arousal around and further up than I’m expecting.
