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“Yeah,” I nod, thinking back to the first time I attended a funeral. “My father died of cancer back when I was in highschool. We never saw it coming. One day he gets a call from the doctor, the diagnosis is pretty dire and… well, three months later he was dead,” I say, remembering how my father looked in the hospital bed. He was so frail and thin, a distant memory of the man I was used to seeing as strong and unshakable.
“Cara… I’m so sorry,” he says, his words tender and sweet, genuine care in his voice.
“It’s okay. I’ve made my peace with it. It hurt a lot at first… but then you learn to treasure the good memories. It’s just life, I guess. No one can run away from it.”
“I know. Life’s tough,” he replies solemnly, and then he averts his gaze. Looking out the window, he remains in silence for a long while, and I can tell that there’s something in his mind.
“What is it, Liam…?” I ask him and, when he turns to me, there’s a deep sorrow tainting the usually brightness of his eyes.
“It’s nothing,” he replies, faking a smile. “I lost someone too. And, you’re right… It sucks, but we gotta treasure the good moments.”
“Who was it…?” I ask him, my chest feeling heavy as I wonder if I should even be asking this question. Grief is one of these things most people like to keep in the shadows, and I know that Liam isn’t one to open up easily.
“It was my brother,” he tells me after a long pause, and I just let his words hang in the air between us. “He enlisted in the army when he just eighteen. He wanted to serve his country, you know? And he did - he served in Iraq for almost two years. But then… Well, then life happened, I guess. He got in a firefight in Ramadi, got shot and didn’t make it.”
“Jesus, Liam, I had no idea. I’m so sorry,” I tell him, feeling the sting of tears in my eyes.
“I just wish I had been there with him, you know? Maybe I could’ve… I don’t know, things might have been different.”
“Liam…” I merely whisper, having no idea what to tell him. “There’s nothing you could have done.”
“Maybe. I served in Iraq as well, you know? But we got shipped to different cities. I should’ve pushed for a reassignment, try and make it to the same platoon he was in… But it doesn’t matter now, does it?” He whispers, that sad smile still on his lips.
I lost my father when I was just a teenager, and that was already hard enough for me - I have no idea how it’d be like to lose a brother and feel responsible for him at the same time. I don’t know if I’d be able to walk around with a smile on my face if I were carrying that much pain inside me...
“Hey, don’t worry. I’ve made my peace with it, just like you,” he says and, even though I notice the sorrow in his words, I believe him. “But this is part of why I want to keep my parents out of the spotlight. They’ve already been through enough. And, besides, I’m old enough to be the face of the Donovans and carry that responsibility.”
“Oh, Liam,” I whisper, looking into his and feeling my heart tightening up even more. I was so wrong about him - I’ve become so jaded with men that, even though I should’ve stopped this charade long ago, I kept going and going. And now here I am, falling for him.
Yes, I said it - I’m falling for Liam.
“I just don’t want to lose anyone else again,” he continues, gently squeezing my hand on his. “I don’t want to lose the ones I love.”
“You won’t,” I reply, lowering my voice until it becomes just a whisper. Even though I shouldn’t have said this, the words escaped my mouth before I could stop them. This time, my heart trumped my brain.
Smiling, he places one hand on my face and leans in, his mouth looking for mine.
Closing my eyes, I surrender to his kiss.
Cara
I part my lips slightly, my tongue reaching for his and dancing in slow soft circles around it. His hands are on my waist, his long fingers firmly planted on my hips. We kiss in abandonment, my fingers running through his hair and disheveling it as my heart starts beating faster and faster. I let my hands fall down to the side of his face and I trace the hard lines of his jaw, the warmness on his skin calling to me.
“I want you. Right now,” he suddenly says, taking one hand to my neck and yanking on my hair, forcing my head back. I open my eyes, locking them on his, and I stop breathing for a whole second as he continues. “I never wanted anyone as bad as I want you, Cara.”
Each word that leaves his lips is like opium, travelling from my ears to my brain and drowning it in numbness. I try to think of an appropriate response, but all I can do is mouth an anxious “yes.” Leaning toward me, he pushes me back against the seat. My heart is drumming so hard I half-expect it to claw its way out of my chest anytime now.
“I want to fuck you,” he says, leaning in and whispering in my ear, his full lips brushing against my skin. My heart rises and falls at a hurried pace, my lungs working overtime as his eyes seem to devour me. Impatient with my silence, he yanks harder on my hair, his lips turning into a hard line. “I want it bad.”
“Do it, Liam… Do it,” I find myself saying, my voice sounding foreign to my own ears.
“I will,” he grins, the way his lips curl upward making him look even more beautiful. My mouth turns dry as his deep voice reaches me and, of course, as my mouth goes dry, my pussy becomes wetter than it has ever been. Maybe there’s some correlation there.
Still with one hand on my hair, he takes the other one to the hemline of my dress, the tip of his fingers brushing against the naked skin above my right knee. I feel my skin prickling as his fingers hike up my leg, gently lifting the dress in the process. The closer he gets to my pussy, the wetter I become, a wildfire of desire spreading inside of me. I almost reach for his wrist and force his hand against my pussy, but I’m so entranced by his touch I simply sit still, the perfect victim to his teasing.
Unblinking, I stare into his eyes as his fingers close in on my groins, my insides burning with anticipation. But instead of simply going for it, he simply traces the contour of my thong with his index finger, going back and forth over both my groins without actually touching my pussy. Guided by unconscious desire, I find myself bucking my hips at him, aching to feel his hand on me. The moment I do it, he takes his hand out from under my dress and yanks on my hair again.
“Keep still,” he tells me, deviousness flickering in his eyes. I nod, pursing my lips and trying to ignore my own instincts. In an instant, his hand is under my dress again, his index finger gently running along the place where fabric and skin meet. He goes like that for what seems like an eternity, although it couldn’t have been more than a minute - it’s easy to lose track of time when you’re so wet your juices have soaked your underwear completely - and then he final
