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“You’re my problem.” His jaw is locked as he grits his teeth, the annoyance verging on full-blown rage as he speaks. “You and this constant bullshit. One, it’s rude, but it’s also disrespectful as fuck and I’m over it.”
“What did I do to disrespect you?” The confused expression plaguing my face only appears to anger him more.
“Justin.”
Who the hell is Justin?
My thoughts must paint my face because his expression contorts even more into disgust.
“You don’t even know his name? Damn, Hannah, you had his dick lodged against your ass for half the night. I didn’t take you for the type.”
“Don’t talk to me like that.”
“Like what?”
“Like you get to judge me. Slut shaming is unbecoming of you.”
This seems to return his decorum to him.
“I—that’s not what I meant.”
“It’s what you said.” I gulp as I realize just how close to me he is, his body only inches from my own. My attempts to hide what it does to me don’t go unnoticed as I watch his eyes linger on my chest, ruminating on the way my nipples are hard and visible through my sheer white sleep shirt.
“I’m sorry. I—it was just rude,” he says with a gulp.
“Why do you consider it rude? It had nothing to do with you,” I say breathily.
“You can’t honestly be that clueless, Hannah.”
I think on it for a moment before it hits me—he’s clearly upset about the other day.
“Liam…”
He steps away from me as I speak, raking his fingers through his sleep-tousled hair.
“Liam, we were drunk when that happened.”
“You think I don’t know that?” The methodical combing of his fingers through his hair ventures on pulling as his frustration appears to grow. “You think I don’t know that is just about the last thing I should want?”
Blood rushes straight to my face as realization dawns on me. I’ve been beating myself up over the sudden resurgence of attraction to him. We’ve spent so much time at one another’s throats that it didn’t even feel like a possibility he might be dealing with the same anguish I’ve been enduring.
Suddenly I am aware of every movement he makes as he paces back and forth across the kitchen, his bare feet padding on the floor as his sweatpants barely graze the tops of his feet. He’s wearing nothing but a pair of dark blue joggers and it’snot until this moment I realize just how little is left to the imagination.
“Wh—” I clear my throat, trying to think of the right words. “What do you want?”
My words settle in the air, staling as he doesn’t respond for more time than I am comfortable with.
“Hannah.”
“What?” My voice is barely audible.
“You should go to bed.” He says it like a suggestion but it reads like a command. I hate the way my body reacts to that. His deep brown eyes are locked on mine and they manage to feel darker, like a scathing abyss threatening to drag me down to the depths of hell.
“No,” I mouth, but no sound leaves me.
His gaze drifts to my mouth, lingering on the way my lips move, his jaw locking.
“I said go to bed.” Liam steps toward me, his words less demanding and more suggesting than before. Hell, maybe it’s a taunt—I can’t be sure.
