“So you know what he’s been doing?”
I glance over at the windows, out at the city, and see numbers on a spreadsheet, strange numbers that don’t fully add up, but can be easily resolved by cleverly moving them around. And once that’s done, the problem’s gone, like it was never there to begin with, and all I have to do is keep my mouth shut.
“I have… some vague ideas,” I say at last.
Liam grunts his acknowledgement, that cocky smirk returning. “Well love, then you vaguely know that your father’s got some serious money running through that construction firm of his, and if certain other entities knew how that was structured, and they were motivated to do him and his partners harm…” He trails off, leaving me to pick up the pieces.
Fucking Kieren. I breathe as steadily as I can, struggling to stay calm, but the scope of the problem becomes very clear?—
And so does the solution.
I take a big drink this time, draining the glass. Liam gets up wordlessly, still fidgeting with his pocket, and grabs the bottle. He refills me before returning to his seat. I drink some of that, not even savoring it anymore.
“Can I ask you something?” My eyes drop to the carpet, to my feet, anywhere but Liam. “Are you… going to kill him?”
Liam doesn’t answer. My heart’s stuttering and sweat breaks out under my arms. Fear slides down into my core and I struggle to keep still.
“I don’t know,” he says at last.
I force myself to look up. He’s watching me curiously. “You’d do that? You’d really kill him?”
“It all depends on how the situation plays out. I don’t want to lie to you, Regan. I fucking hate liars. Do you really want to know?”
I feel sick. But I can’t help myself. I’ve been around men like Liam, men like my father, all my life, and I know what they’re capable of. Most of the time they try to hide it, and there’s something strangely terrifying and refreshing about Liam coming out and saying the words like they aren’t truly horrific.
“No, I don’t,” I whisper as he stands and comes around to sit beside me. He takes the glass from my hand, and I realize my fingers were shaking so much some had spilled. He lifts my index up to his lips and kisses it, licks it, and sucks the wine clean.
His tongue is soft and warm. His lips are firm. I shiver, mouth hanging open, pulse going haywire, brain not working any longer. I’m not drunk, but I also can’t seem to get my breathing under control. I want Liam to keep touching me, but I also want to get out of here.
This man might kill Kieren.
On some level, I want that to happen. I want Kieren to suffer for what he did to me. We had a life, a future, a plan. Everything made sense. It wasn’t perfect, and it wasn’t a fairy tale, but it was mine. The pieces fit and everything had its right place, and I was comfortable if not exactly happy.
Then he shit all over that, fucked Vera, and ruined me.
Liam slips my finger from his mouth. His hand reaches around, back into my hair, his fingers slipping through the strands. I can stop this. If I tell him to back off, I think he will. I can still walk away.
But isn’t this why I’m here? If I’m honest with myself? I could’ve found some other way to contact him. I could’ve tried to find him on a weekday, asked him to talk somewhere public, done anything but follow him up here near midnight, when nothing good could possibly come of this.
He bends my wrist gently and pushes my own finger between my lips. He watches, fascinated, mouth open, as he makes me suck it. I taste his spit and whimper as I do it. His grip in my hair tightens as he pulls my wrist back and buries my mouth with his.
His tongue is wine and mint. I groan into his lips, losing myself in the moment, all awareness washing away. This is what I came here for and I can’t keep pretending like it’s not. I lied to myself when I left earlier, kept saying it was to get to the truth aboutKieren, to figure out what’s going on with him, to see if I can’t make some kind of difference, but that’s all bullshit.
This is what I wanted.
Liam roughly wrenches me into his lap. I gasp, arching, bending down to kiss him harder as he unbuttons my blouse. I moan when his hands cup my breasts, squeezing before he throws my top on the floor and removes my bra. I let it fall off and pull his hair as he takes a stiff nipple into his mouth and sucks roughly. I arch and grind into him, breathing hard, and god, this is fucked up, it’s all so fucked up. I can’t keep kissing my ex’s potential killer, I can’t keep wanting to fuck the man that helped me light a car on fire, a man that broke into my apartment earlier tonight, but I also don’t want to stop.
I can be someone else with Liam. Someone with agency, with strength, at least for a while.
I push him back and kiss him, easing off his shirt. I dig my fingers into his chest muscles and I like the way he grunts with delight as my nails furrow his skin. He growls, turning me, and shoves me back onto the couch, pinning me with his massive, strong body, holding my hands above my head as I wrap my legs around his waist.
He’s hard as he grinds into my core.
“I was hoping you’d come back,” he says, kissing my neck and chest, nibbling and nipping at my tits. “God love, you’d lose your mind if you saw me in your place earlier. Hard as sin and practically rutting your pillow.”
“Don’t be a freak. You did not.”
“I did. I don’t lie. You’ll find out eventually.” He kisses me again before rearing back. I keep my hands above my head, lazily letting him remove my pants. I lift up as he tugs them off, pausing only to kiss my toes. I laugh at the bizarre gesture.
