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His nostrils flare as he huffs out a defeated breath. Once again, I ignore his stubbornness, and twist the cap off the Dettol bottle and dampen a few of the cotton balls with antiseptic. The distinct scent of antiseptic floods my nose, reminding me of freshly laid tarmacadam on a newly surfaced road.
Finally, I close the toilet seat and then gesture for him to sit. As he lowers himself onto the lid, he grunts, his eyes closing with the pain. “Motherfucker.”
Once he’s settled in, I place my fingertips beneath his chin and tilt his head, giving me a better angle. Suddenly, his eyes fly open, landing on mine. Behind his stormy grey depths, hurt and pain swirl, stealing the air from my lungs. I feel like a colossal bitch for everything that happened today, and now, after the fight, I realise, deep down, Rohan only used me as a pawn in his game against Liam. I feel stupid for letting it happen, but the hurt written all over Liam’s face makes my careless inhibitions even more regrettable.
With a fake smile, I push through the guilt swarming through my core and raise the cotton ball to his lip. A hiss escapes him as I gently press down on the open wound, but he never takes his eyes off me. The weight of our unspoken words feels like a boulder on my shoulder, but I don’t think now is the time to broach what happened with Rohan, so I remain silent, working quietly to clean up the traces of blood and clean any open cuts so they don’t get infected.
Finally, once I’ve applied a generous amount of Savlon cream to any open wounds, I drop the supplies onto the bathroom countertop and then turn back to face him. A fire blazes in his eyes, then suddenly, he reaches out, gripping my hip before tugging me forward. My heart hitches as I halt between his legs, peering at him through my lashes. Even seated, his face is level with mine, his eyes searing through me, making a blush tinge my heated cheeks.
A sexy smirk widens across his face as his hands roam downwards, over the material of my sleep shorts, until they burn against the exposed skin of my thigh. My core clenches, overcome by the darkened lust swirling in his eyes.
He leans in, and just as I think he’s going to claim me with a kiss, he stops, leaving just a breath between us. Our gazes lock once more, as he utters his next words against my lips. “I really want to fuck you, free bird. But not while his cum is still dripping from your pussy.”
His words slice through my chest with the sharpness of a thousand tiny razor blades, forcing me to step back. Trying my best to ignore the ache, I focus on helping him clean his wounds.
“Do you need me to check your ribs?” My words are barely audible with the dryness coating my throat. So I dampen the roof of my mouth with my tongue, then swallow the giant ball of regret lodged there.
With a nod of his head, he pushes off the toilet seat and slowly stands to his feet, tugging the bottom of his t-shirt but doesn’t get very far. Deciding he needs my help more than I need his approval, I reach for the hem of his shirt. His eyes latch on to mine once more, peering into my soul as I raise his shirt up, only stopping when he yelps. “Fucking hell.”
It’s then I realise his left shoulder has locked up, suspended mid-point, and he’s unable to raise it any further. It takes a little manoeuvring, but finally, I get his shirt off and assess his bruised ribs. “Should I wrap them?” I ask, unsure of what the protocol for bruised, and possibly broken ribs are.
“No. You shouldn’t wrap broken ribs because they can keep you from breathing deeply, which can increase the risk of pneumonia.”
“Um, okay.” I don’t ask how he knows that, but judging from what I saw tonight, I doubt this is Liam’s first rodeo.
“You can leave now.” He motions to the doorway with the tip of his chin. “I can manage the rest.”
“Are you sure?” I prompt, peering around the bathroom, looking for anything he may need help with.
“I said I was fine, didn’t I?” His tone is aggressive, but I try my best to not judge. Even though we never discussed what the kiss we shared meant, I knew he had issues with Rohan, and seeing them fight like that tonight only opened my eyes further. Nobody could deny the hate between them; it was glaringly obvious with every strike. So, giving Liam what he needs, I turn on my heel and walk out of the bathroom. Maybe someday, we can talk about what this means for us and our friendship.
I’m two steps from leaving his room when he calls my name.
I spin around, and my eyes glide over him as he leans against the open bathroom doorway. “Yeah.”
“I’ve one question, but you have to promise me you’ll tell me the truth.”
My eyes close briefly, but then I peer back at him over my lashes. “Okay.”
“If you could start the day over, would you still let him fuck you?”
My throat closes, hesitating my response. It’s then my conscience sweeps in, hitting me with a reality I don’t want to face. Do I regret what I did with Rohan? I regret the hurt our actions caused. I regret his motive behind it. But if I was in that closet again, would I stop him? Deep down, I know the answer is no.
“Come on, Saoirse. It’s a yes or no question. Would you still let him fuck you?”
Swallowing the lump encased in my throat, I ask, “The truth?”
Liam nods, his tongue lapping at the deep cut on his lip. “I need to hear it, please.”
“Yes. I would.” It’s only a few words, but his face crumbles with the force of them, chipping off a piece of my heart.
“Close the door on your way out.”
I nod, unable to ease the ache I caused us both. “Goodnight, Liam.”
