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She grabbed him by the hair. He knew better than to argue. Lifting his head, he met her eyes.
“You said you’d come nowhere but inside of me.”
“Aye.”
“I don’t want to come with you anywhere but there, either.” She gave his hair a tug, and he followed that lead, sliding up and then sliding home.
He’d kept his orgasm at bay by pleasing her. Not that the taste of her, the feel of her, didn’t arouse. But he’d used his mind, his powers of seduction, and now he let everything go.
The blessed warmth, the friction, the press of her all around. Her hands on his shoulders. Her nails in his skin. Her mouth, her tongue, the memories of where both had last been.
And still it wasn’t enough. Until …
“Liam,” she said. “Liam.”
He came in a rush so strong his sight ebbed, narrowing to all that was her.
Her body answered, tightening, pulsing, welcoming him. “Yes,” she said. “Yes.” And then …
“Liam.”
*
He fell asleep still tangled up in her. Her breath in time with his, her scent and the memory of that husky voice whispering the name he hadn’t heard in so long following Liam into a dark and peaceful land.
He awoke tense, almost vibrating with the certainty that something was wrong. When he opened his eyes and saw her cuddled against him, her arm across his belly, her cheek against his chest, he understood.
This was wrong. He’d promised without words something that could never, ever be.
Liam gently disentangled himself from her body and her embrace. She murmured, turning toward him, reaching out, and he couldn’t help himself; he brushed her hair from her face and kissed her brow. She settled deeper into sleep, and he watched her, rubbing at the ache that seemed to have taken up residence in his soul.
Did he even have a soul? He’d never been quite sure.
A shadow passed between the moon—when had that come out?—and the house, a flicker against the shade, and Liam glanced up just in time to see a figure slide by.
He was shoving his feet into his pants, his arms into his shirt, even as he raced on silent, bare feet for the door.
This was what he’d forgotten—that shadow in the trees, which appeared to have graduated to Kris’s backyard.
Liam yanked open the door, already stepping forward, prepared to run around the house and surprise whoever dared hover in the middle of the night.
Instead, he nearly knocked over the man who stood, head down, deep in thought, directly on the other side.
The guy glanced up, eyes wide and strangely familiar. Liam, whose reflexes were honed to an edge so fine he sometimes amazed himself, reached out, grabbed a handful of dark cotton shirt at the neck, and yanked.
“What are ye doin’ creepin’ about in the night?” he demanded.
The stranger blinked, then grasped Liam’s wrists and attempted to pry them free.
Liam made a derisive sound—not in this lifetime, brother—and, spinning, slammed the would-be intruder against the open door. “Did ye dare t’ touch her? Did ye dare try and bring her harm?”
His fingers tightened, and the man began to choke. Liam hadn’t heard that sound in years. He’d hoped never to hear it again, but right now he quite liked it.
“Who are ye?” He pulled the stranger close, then shoved him back, bouncing his head off the wood with a lovely dull thud. “Who?”
He sputtered, opening and closing his mouth, still pulling on Liam’s hands with a surprising amount of strength for one who would soon be dead.
The lights clicked on. Both Liam and the newcomer were left blinking, though neither of them let go of the other.
