That’s when Liam moves.
He bridges the gap between us like he always planned to do so. His hand brushes the hair out of my eyes, tucking it behind one ear and then tugging it so my face is tilted up toward him.
“Why the fuck did you do that?” Liam doesn’t sound angry, just confused. Like he’s really asking, and it’s not a rhetorical question.
I stare at him, not sure what to say. Because I don’t have a good answer.
Even if I did, I wouldn’t have had the time to share it.
We’re kissing again, his lips on mine before I fully register he’s moved even closer. His body is pressing against mine, the heat erasing any chill from the breeze.
I’m caged between his body and the wooden railing as his mouth slants, his tongue tangling with mine as everything deepens. Escalates.
His hands move to my hips right as thunder booms, a deep clap that shakes the foundation of the house. A thrill skates across my skin, zipping down my spine and settling in my stomach. Something hard and hot presses against my belly, and a persistent thrum starts between my legs in response.
He’s getting hard. Liam Stevens is hard for me.
Usually, I’d consider this a non-event. A compliment, I guess, but basic biology.
But this is the Glenmont quarterback with an erection because he’s kissingme, a girl from Alleghany. Liam doesn’t like me. I’m certain he doesn’twantto want me.
But apparently parts of his anatomy are overruling his famous discipline. There’s a hard cock against my stomach and a talented tongue in my mouth expressing other things than anger.
It’s a rush I’m not expecting.
I didn’t think I cared what Liam thought of me. But I like this. Like the way he’s kissing me—as desperate for me as I am for him.
A few of his fingers have found their way under the hem of my sweatshirt. But they don’t move farther in either direction.
I like that too.
I can’t remember the last time I kissed a guy just to experience kissing him. It’s usually a stop along the way to more intimate places. A way for a guy to start out pretending there’s not one thing he’s after.
A loud crack of lightning cleaves the sky in two. For a second, it’s as bright as a sunny day outside. It breaks the spell—the loud sound and the flash of light.
Liam jerks away and steps back. Shock covers his face. Either because we kissed in the middle of a major storm or because we kissed at all.
I’m guessing it’s the latter.
But I don’t wait to find out. The compulsion to see Liam’s reaction to me kissing him has disappeared.
I toss out a “Night” and bolt, heading inside and hurrying up the stairs, not stopping until I’m back in my room. I rip the sweatshirt off me and crawl under the covers.
It’s a long time before I fall asleep.
CHAPTERSEVEN
LIAM
Iwake up early, despite not getting more than a few hours of sleep.
I grab my phone and check the time: quarter to seven. No matter what time Ihaveto get up at, my body has become conditioned to wake up early. I spent high school lifting weights first thing in the morning.
Whole lot of good that did me.
I wait—for the stab of annoyance. For the reminder of failures to throb like a bruise.
Neither appear.