Page 7 of City of Liars

I clenched around him, and he moaned, his head thrown back. “Slow down,” he begged. “If you do that, I won’t last⁠—”

I didn’t want him to last. I wanted all of him, now, wild and undone. I sank my teeth into his biceps and he surrendered with a hiss of pain, driving into me, hard. Again and again, until I teetered on the precipice and he gritted out my name between clenched teeth.

We fell over the edge together. Afterward, his arms around me and his face against my neck, he whispered into the dark, “Christ, Liv. You were made for me.”

5

Liv

We woke the next morning twined around each other in my bed. Coming to with a man’s arm draped over my waist, I had a moment of sheer panic. Then I remembered Theo following me home in his black BMW. Remembered his hand low on my back as we walked up to my house, the warmth of it burning through my dress as he pulled me close against him.

We’d taken mutual advantage of each other as soon as my front door opened: on my coffee table, against the living room wall, and finally in my four-poster, which had creaked until I was afraid it would collapse. My cheeks heated at the memory, just as he leaned over and lifted my hair off my neck so he could kiss me there.

“Coffee?” he said, his voice still rough with sleep.

I shuddered at the rasp of his stubble against my skin, and he smiled. “Or,” he said, “we could...”

“No, we couldn’t.” I slid out of bed, wishing for clothes. It was ridiculous, given what had happened last night, but a sudden wave of shyness washed over me.

The sheets rustled as he moved. “Mmm. Why not?”

“Fiend,” I accused for want of a better retort, making myself turn to face him.

He lay on his back in a splash of sunshine like he’d planned it, fingers knotted behind his head, wearing nothing but a devilish grin. “Glass houses,” he said, raising one dark eyebrow.

“Coffee,” I replied, foraging in my dresser for cover and fleeing for the bathroom. As I brushed my teeth and tried to tame my hair, I wished I had my phone so I could text Tessa about how my disastrous date had turned into an evening with a piano sex god. What would I tell my mom about Mustache Man? If she could see me now, she’d be mortified.

I told myself not to feel guilty. I deserved every bit of my glorious time with Theo. But despite myself, my mom’s voice echoed in my head, telling me I should be ashamed of myself.

Giving myself a pep talk in the mirror, I stomped out of the bathroom. The bed was rumpled but empty and the unmistakable scent of French roast drifted from the direction of the kitchen. I followed it and found Theo standing shirtless at the counter, messing with two mugs. My guilt faded as my mouth fell open in appreciation. Gray didn’t drink coffee and had never once made it for me in all the years we were together—much less done so half-naked, like Mr. October in the Hot Piano Players of the Year calendar.

He caught sight of my expression and turned. “What’s the matter?”

I found myself speechless, not a typical condition. And yet, this was the second time it had happened to me in my brief acquaintance with Theo.

He ran a hand through his hair, looking puzzled. “Did I screw up? You did say you wanted coffee. I didn’t think you’d mind me digging around in your kitchen. But if I overstepped⁠—”

I surged into him, knocking him back against the counter, and pressed a kiss to his lips before he could say anything else. His hands rose as if by instinct, gripping my waist.

“Mmm. What was that for?”

“Nothing,” I said, disentangling myself to grab one of the mugs and doctor the contents with cream and sugar. “Carry on.”

He raised an eyebrow again but followed me to the wooden table by the bay window, cradling his coffee.

I loved this kitchen. I’d worked with a designer to redo it the year before Gray and I split up, putting in gray granite countertops, whitewashed cabinets, and a farm sink. But it had never seemed finished to me. Maybe because I’d envisioned cooking incredible meals together, then sitting around the secondhand table I’d scoured three stores to find, laughing and chatting about our days. Instead, I’d had to drag Gray to the table, complaining all the way. After a while, the kitchen mocked me with its perfection, as if I’d renovated it for another family, one that would make it come alive. Seeing Theo here, making himself at home the way I’d always wished Gray would...it hurt, but it felt satisfying, too. It felt right.

That was ridiculous. I’d only just met the guy. So he’d made coffee; that didn’t mean he was going to stick around for breakfast. And I had no reason to want him to, except I liked having him here.

“You’re staring, you know,” he said, settling into the chair Chloe usually took. “Not that I mind, given I’m enjoying the view myself.”

Amused, I rolled my eyes. “Sure. Because yoga pants and a T-shirt are every bit as eye-catching as...you.” I waved a hand in his general direction.

“I’ll admit, it’s not as provocative as that damn dress.” He shrugged. “But it’s you I’m seeing, Liv, not the packaging.”

Warmth flushed through me. This guy was too good to be true. “So you really did like the dress.” I tucked a curl behind my ear, musing. “I’ll have to tell my grandma.”

He choked on his coffee. “Come again?”