She whipped around and squinted into the bathroom. Zeke hadn’t bothered to turn on a light, so it was murky by the shower. Enough for him to miss her black panties?
Zeke reappeared, holding out a small glass of water. “Try this.”
Once again, she accepted his offering, but this time she didn’t hesitate to take a drink. The cool liquid soothed the bourbon’s fiery path. “Thanks,” she said.
He finished the rest of her drink before sliding the empty glass onto her nightstand. His fingers balanced on the rim of the expensive crystal.
“Would it be so bad?” he asked.
She searched her mind for the thread of their conversation.
We.
Us.
She waited for the inevitable fear to surface. But it didn’t.
“No,” she whispered into the silence.
Slowly, he turned to face her. Hunger gripped his features, and Liv felt an answering desire deep in her bones.
Every part of her longed for him, wanted him with a passion that frightened the hell out of her.
He closed the distance between them. Feathered the backs of his fingers along the side of her face. “I want to be so deep inside you.” Along the arch of her brow. “Tell me you want me there, too.”
With his words alone, she recalled the long, slow pressure of him gliding into her, widening her, pleasuring her until both their cries rent the air.
She swallowed, reached out, and grabbed what she wanted. The consequences—well, she would face those later.
“Yes.” Her fingers toyed with a button on his shirt. “But not here. My son—”
Before she could finish the thought, he grasped her hand and rushed her down the hall to his bedroom. A quick survey of her surroundings revealed the layout was similar to her own suite, yet his tastes ran to darker colors and sturdier furniture.
Drawing her to a halt next to his bed, he placed her hands on his broad chest. “Continue.” A heartbeat. “Please.”
Unable to deny him—or herself—the pleasure any longer, she grazed her fingertips over the hard ridges of his stomach through his shirt. She reveled in the way the muscles bunched and twitched beneath her touch. But the tentative contact wasn’t enough.
Smoothing her palms around his waist, she tipped back her head and fell into the dark depth of his gaze. “Kiss me, Zeke.”
His mouth dove in for hers as if he’d been waiting for the green flag. The moment their lips touched, the last of Liv’s caution blinked out.
She melted against him, and her hands burrowed beneath the edge of his shirt. The overwhelming need to reacquaint herself with every square inch of his body sent her fingers exploring.
The impulse to close her eyes and see him with her hands made her eyelids heavy. He was so warm and smooth . . . and large. So large, everywhere.
The pulsing length of him pressed against her lower stomach, compelling her to cup his ass and pull him closer.
The exquisite friction made them both groan.
Zeke reared back to remove his shirt. He didn’t bother unfastening the remaining buttons. Ripping it apart was far more expeditious.
Flying buttons bounced off the wall, the bedside table, and even the ceiling. His garment landed in a soft thwat by the window.
The ache at her center pooled into her legs, making them restless with the desire to wrap around his hips. Her heated inner muscles clenched and unclenched, seeking the part of him that would release the explosive pressure building inside her.
She reached up and touched the black onyx hanging from a braided leather rope around his neck. “Does this stone carry meaning for you?”
“The woman I bought it from said—” He broke off and his eyes looked everywhere but at her.