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“No?” I force ire into my tone with a sardonic grin. “You should have violated my personal communications earlier in the day. That would have afforded us some extra time for my wrath.”
“Your wrath is fucking sexy.” He smirks before capturing my earlobe between his teeth and moaning. “Lean around me and nod to Rex. He’s standing at the exit and needs to know you’re okay with me here.”
I do as he asked, kicking my chin up to Rex, who is choking on his hilarity. Some guard.
“Seriously?” I hiss.
“Yes, you’re gorgeous when you’re angry,” Liam says, referring to his observation regarding my wrath as he waggles his eyebrows. When I glare in return, he addresses the real issue. “I needed to protect you—we can get back to that later. Right now, I need you to understand—”
“Understand why you keep crashing my dates?” I cross my arms over my chest in feigned irritation when all I want is to curl into him. God, what is happening to me?
“Yes, actually.” He kisses my temple, but the innocence of that gesture is escorted by his wandering fingers crawling further up my thigh. “I have a valid reason that can’t be overlooked.”
I keep my voice strong, as if his touch isn’t undoing me. “Which is?”
He nips at the curve of my neck, tongue peeking out for a taste, fingertips slinking mischievously. “I need you. So goddamn much.” His voice is so thick with desperation, with longing, that it stills everything so that all I hear is him. All I feel is him. All I want is him. His nips and licks continue, along with his explanation. “The iota of hope you provided in that text thread was enough to fuel my obsession. I can’t stay away from you anymore. I don’t give a fuck who thinks I should. I won’t.”
Who’s telling him to stay away from me? Ivy? Wells? That stings. Even Ty or Gage would be a wound, so I don’t ask. I can’t take any more today.
Instead, I consider what Keith said. “Your dreams are worth it too.”
I’ve never allowed myself to dream, but the man beside me is definitely becoming one.
I’m over other people’s opinions. Why are so many people involved in my choices anyway? Maybe their meddling is perfectly warranted, considering what my mother said regarding Ben’s death. And the hell Ivy endured. Liam’s been monitoring my phone to keep me safe. Safe from what? My association with them?
Running toward Scott Filmore—the wealthy, handsome, above-board career man with enough spirit to keep things interesting—is the wise move. He’s ideal.
But when I’m with Liam, I don’t envy that drowning ship in Egypt. My soul doesn’t wither from the scathing flames of Ben’s crash licking over every inch of me. And I feel anything but numb. I feel renewed. Awake. Alive.
Despite him judging me so harshly, he’s become the place I feel most like me.
That cognizance means there’s only one way to respond to his admission of not being able to stay away from me.
“I don’t want you to,” I whisper.
A haughty, lopsided smile blooms into his dimple, but not before I spot a flicker of surprise. And I hate it. I hate that he has any doubts. That’s what Ivy saw—the insecurity I produced in this otherwise astute and confident man.
“No?” he asks.
“No.” I twist toward him, our legs tangling under the table. I wish so much we were somewhere else, coiled around one another. Naked. “I mean, in all honesty, it’s not that simple. I have no idea how to make this work without it being catastrophic with my family. Utter turmoil. I’m not even sure what I’m offering, but the wanting-you part is clear.”
“Good.” His hazels frolic all over my face, filling my stomach and chest with a flurry of giddy butterflies. “I’ll handle the rest.”
“Okay,” I say, realizing we’re suspended in this bubble that will surely pop at any minute. “I do need to finish my date though. He’s a nice guy. His father knows my grandfather. Making an effort will at least be something to offer my family.”
“Not yet.” There’s a sternness to that response, even as his lips brush briefly against mine without giving in to the all-consuming kiss we both crave.
I want to lean into him so badly, but we can’t. Nevertheless, I am ever so grateful that this booth is tucked into a dark corner of this restaurant. Otherwise, my revolving dates would surely draw some crass speculation.
“He might be insulted if he returns and you’re here,” I point out, that earlier panic seizing me.
“I won’t be.” His fingers grip my thigh, inching closer and closer to discovering how unbelievably drenched I am for him—not a restaurant-appropriate expedition. “He’s preoccupied at the front desk.”
“Okay.” My resolute eyes land on his. I’m unsurprised that he orchestrated Scott’s distraction. “But this still isn’t—”
“You’ve been awfully hard to get, Carver.” His voice drops to a husky purr, lips wetting my ear, long limbs coiling around me. He’s everywhere. “I’ll take your confession to wanting me as a small win even though you’re on a date with another man. But you’re going to have to prove it.”
“Prove it?” I pant as his fingers brush over my damp panties, confirming his intent in requesting evidence as my mind and body war.
