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“A thing?”
“Some fun.”
Liam doesn’t reply so I open my eyes again. “You really believe that?” he asks.
“I believe that if what happened was more than fun, you would’ve contacted me.”
I’ve spent many nights wishing Liam were lying beside me in bed, dreaming about what would’ve happened if I’d made the decision to go into his room that time. What would’ve happened—what would sex be like with a man whose touch seared my skin, and who kissed me like nobody has kissed me before? The heart skipping moments when I came across him on TV, and the unwarranted tears when I saw him in magazines with Honey has eaten away at my dreams.
“I’ll take that drink you offered, and then I want to talk to you before I go.” He moves back to the counter.
I side glance him. “Talk about what?”
“A lot.”
