So much has happened.
I press closer to Liam, and his arms tighten around me. I feel him press a kiss to my hair, the safety he’s offering me forming a cocoon around me.
There’s no more fearing for Mom’s life. There’s no more dreading what Finn will do to me.
I’m safe.
“Better,” I finally whisper. Knowing I can’t lie on top of him forever, I slowly push myself up. Careful not to elbow or knee him, I move to the side of the couch and pull my fingers through my hair.
God, I must look like a wreck.
I feel like one.
My eyes dart to Liam as he stands up, then I make a disgruntled face because he looks hot as hell with his mused hair.
So unfair.
He glances at me, then his eyes flick to my hair that probably looks like something made a nest in it. The corner of his mouth lifts. “I still like your hair down.”
Instantly, emotion wells in my chest, my heart expanding to keep it all in.
“Come on.” Taking my hand, he pulls me toward the stairs and straight to the bathroom. I watch as he takes a brush out of the cupboard, then he gestures for me to turn around.
When he starts brushing my hair, my throat closes up.
From facing off with a vile man, who made my life hell for weeks, to having a freaking white knight dote on me. The change is extreme.
How’s Liam still single? Are the women out there freaking blind?
“Why aren’t you married yet?” the question slips out before I can sensor my damn mouth.
“Honestly?” His fingers pull through the strands. “I never wanted to. Just didn’t cross my mind.”
Fair enough.
He takes a new toothbrush from the cupboard, holding it out to me. I watch him walk out of the bathroom, then I quickly rid my mouth of the stale taste. When I’m done, I glance at my reflection in the mirror.
Holy shit.
Ugh, I look like shit.
Purple and red bruises color the left side of my jaw and cheek. It’s so swollen it looks worse than when I had my wisdom teeth removed.
“It will look better in a couple of days,” Liam suddenly says. My eyes snap to him, and seeing he’s dressed in cargo pants and a black shirt, my eyebrows pop up.
He just got dressed. I could’ve left the bathroom and walked in on him butt naked.
Nope, don’t let your mind go there. The man is your boss.
When he gets ready to shave, I scurry out of the bathroom, giving him some space.
Glancing around his bedroom, I take in all the décor I couldn’t fully appreciate last night. The room is incredibly neat, not a single thing lying out of place. Curious, I glance at the walk-in closet that looks like something off of Pinterest.
Black tinted glass separates the walk-in closet from the bedroom, but I can see all his suits hanging perfectly.
I get a sense of who Liam is. Someone who needs to be in control and hates any ripples in their life.
I’m a ripple.
Scratch that. A freaking tsunami.
Still, not once has he made me feel unwelcome or that I’m annoying him. He’s been… perfect.
Hearing movement, I slowly turn my head to the left, my eyes locking with Liam’s. I take in the attractive man who seems to have stepped right out of my dreams and into my life.
“This might be the concussion speaking, but…” I suck in a breath, “you’re incredible.” I turn to face him, his eyes never leaving mine. “I feel lucky having met you.”
The man my father hid me from.
The realization hits. Liam still doesn’t know who I really am, who my father is.
What will his reaction be when he finds out I know exactly who he is?
With confident strides, he closes the distance between us. He lifts his hand, his fingers brushing softly over the bruised side of my face. Leaning in, he presses a kiss to my forehead, and not replying to what I said, he murmurs, “Let’s go to your place so you can pack a bag.”
Staying over last night was one thing, but staying the weekend will totally disrupt his life.
“I’m much better today,” I say, overly aware of him standing close to me. His aftershave wraps around me, filling my stomach with nervous energy, which is soothing after the raw burn the past weeks. It feels like a kaleidoscope of butterflies has taken up residence inside me instead of the acid and burning coals.
Liam places a finger beneath my chin, the touch sending tingles rushing over my skin. Nudging me to look up at him, he says, “Doesn’t change the fact you might have a concussion.”
“I don’t want to intrude,” I whisper, something electric and captivating tensing the air around us.
His eyes lower to my mouth. “You’re not.”
It looks like he’s a second away from kissing me, but the bubble pops as he takes hold of my hand. He pulls me out of the bedroom and stops in the living room to grab my bag.