Chapter 117
EMILIA
His response is instant.
because I have and the next,
One second, I’m kissing him like I’ve been starving for it his hand fists in my hair, pulling just enough to make me gasp. He swallows the sound with a kiss that’s deeper, rougher, like I’ve just lit a fuse he’s been desperate to keep under control.
Then control shatters.
He walks me back until the counter hits my lower back, and the chill of it is nothing compared to the fire spreading under my skin. His mouth is on mine like he’s claiming something, like he’s making a promise with every breath. Like he’s daring me to pretend I don’t want this as badly as he does.
His other hand grips my waist – firm, possessive, fingers sinking into me like he’s trying to ground himself. There’s no hesitation in his touch. No question. Just a quiet command: You’re not running. Not this time.
“You,” he mutters against my lips, his voice dark and wrecked, ‘taste like spice.”
I don’t have it in me to laugh. My pulse stutters instead. “Sorry,” I whisper, breathless.
His hand slides back into my hair like he knows exactly where to go, threading through my curls with surprising ease. Like he’s done it a hundred times in his head.
He kisses me once. Then again. And again – each one soft, like he’s trying to hold himself back. I find myself savouring the weight of my mouth against his.
But then he groans, deep and low, and restraint slips through his fingers.
His lips crash into mine, hungrier now. His tongue teases at my bottom lip, coaxing, commanding, until 1 part for him- and when he finally kisses me fully, properly, it steals the breath straight from my lungs.
He tastes like heat and want and something dangerously addictive.
And God help me, I don’t want him to stop
When he pulls away, I can’t stop the whimper that slips through and he gives me a dazzling smile.
Chapter 117
44
He leans back just enough to look at me. His eyes are wildfire hot, dangerous, absolutely consuming. His thumb skims down my cheek, to my jaw, before tilting my chin up, forcing me to meet that gaze.
“Still don’t do hockey players?” His words and their implication are nothing short of cruel, but I’m entranced by the look in his eyes.
“No,” he raises an eyebrow. I correct myself. “Kind of.”
“Good,” he says, voice like velvet over steel. “Because I’m done waiting.”
And then he’s kissing me again, slow and deliberate, like he wants to brand this moment into my bones. Every stroke of his mouth is a demand. Every sigh, every gasp he pulls from me, just adds fuel to the fire already burning between us.
When he lifts me onto the counter, my breath hitches – but not from surprise. From need. He steps between my legs, crowding into my space like he’s always belonged there, his hands roaming like he’s learning me all over again.
His lips drag down my neck, teeth grazing, tongue soothing, and I can’t help it – I arch into him, hands in his hair, pulling, anchoring. There’s no room for air, for thought, for anything except this.
–
Somewhere in the background, his phone starts to ring – sharp and persistent.
I try to speak, try to push the words past the haze clouding my brain. “Liam… your
phone…”
He doesn’t stop.
His mouth moves along the curve of my neck, finding the spot that makes my legs tighten around his hips. “Ignore it,” he mutters, the vibration of his voice sending shivers down my
spine.
Chapter Comments
7
