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“If there’s any miscommunication. Yes. But…”
“But?” My hands close around her upper arms.
“If therewasn'tany miscommunication…”
I know better. I do. “If we both know exactly where we stand.” I close the distance between us. “And where we’re going.” My front to her back like at the country club. Except nothing like that.
At the party, we were playing. Winding each other up. Teasing and tempting.
Now?
I’m breathing like I just got off the ice. And Stormy? Christ, I can feel her trembling.
I press my brow to the back of her head. “Say it.”
“In two years we’re done.”
I spin her around. “Over.”
She nods. Wets her bottom lip and meets my eyes. “Completely.”
“Legally.”
Her hands find their way between us and coast over my pecs. “This—”
“—it’s just—”
“—sex.”
Fuuuck, she said it.
That word, barely a breath on her lips, is the match strike to my restraint.
* * *
Stormy
There’sa quiet alarm sounding in my mind over the extreme relief washing through me with every greedy pull of his mouth.
We can’t keep doing this. We shouldn’t. Except then I’m opening wider beneath the hot crush of his kiss, moaning around the thrust of his tongue, and savoring his answering groan.
“Just tonight.” I tell myself more than him. Because this is a physical thing. The culmination of too much teasing and fun at the party. A low, simmering attraction that last kiss pushed to a boil. That’s all. “Then tomorrow we put it behind us. For good. Go back to being… whatever it is we are.”
Serious eyes meet mine. “We’re there for each other.”
My heart takes a heavy beat. “Yeah. We are.”
He nods. “Always.” And then he gathers my hair, wrapping it in his fist— oh God, yes —and uses it to pull my head back, giving him unfettered access to my mouth and neck.
He plunders the first and, teeth scraping, groans against the second.
That sound.
My body clenches in response, the need within me turning liquid and hot.
Demanding.
We pull at each other’s clothes, fumbling and desperate until my dress is in a heap on the floor, topped with my bra and panties. Somehow, I get Liam’s shirt off but not his tie. His belt, but his open pants still hang dangerously low on his hips.
