Page 85 of Our Radiant Embers

He went still for a beat, simply holding onto me. “Me neither,” he said then, voice pitched low like it was meant to be a secret.

No words, none that I could hold in my grasp, all slipping away as I tried to reach for them. So I turned into another bruising kiss, the sunset painting the backs of my lids a radiant orange.

Nearby voices startled us apart. I’d never been that teenager caught snogging in a dark alley although I suspected Liam might have been—not as a teenager, perhaps, but in his early twenties. It was strange, this blend of exhilaration and mild embarrassment, trying to act casual as we emerged from the shadows. The fading daylight hid us from overly close scrutiny.

We kept moving, the pebbled ground giving under my steps, unsteady like the waves that rolled in. An incoming tide—how fitting. When I shared the thought, Liam laughed softly, our elbows nudging together.

“Didn’t realise you had a taste for cliches.”

“I have a taste for all sorts of things,” I countered, and it pulled another laugh from him.

“Come on, you can come up with a better line than that.”

A challenge? Fine.

I sent my magic out to twine around Liam’s wrist like a duplicate bracelet and glanced at the cut of his profile for just a second. Then I faced forward again. “You have no idea how many times I got off to the memory of us in my office. The sounds you made, just…fuck. And I pretended to hate you, you know? But God, it was so hot, Liam. Like, the way you tasted and smelled—I’m sure that hasn’t changed.”

”You got yourself off to that?” The question carried dark intrigue, and I caught a glimpse of movement when Liam touched his own wrist where my magic lingered.

“I did.” It was easier to be brave with night falling and the sea a steady backdrop to my words. “In the shower, in my bed…Got some lube and shoved a couple of fingers into me too.”

“Bloody hell.” An unguarded murmur, then Liam quickened his steps. I hurried to keep up.

“What’s the rush?” I asked brightly, and he slid me a glare that lacked any heat.

“I want you horizontal. Spread you out, get my hands and mouth on you. Possibly…” His voice took on a note of hesitation. “Possibly get inside of you. If you want.”

My gut clenched, anticipation mixed with a hint of nerves. Christ, yes. “Please? I don’t—I didn’t bring any stuff, though. When I invited you here, it wasn’t about changing your mind.”

“I know.” Liam paused. “And I did bring stuff.”

I inhaled sharply. ”You did?”

“I knew I wouldn’t be able to stay away from you.”

I wasn’t sure what this meant—luminous pressure behind my ribs, something big and heavy in my stomach that said I wouldn’t get to keep this. I could pretend, though.

Since no answer came to mind, nothing that wouldn’t sound trite, I let my magic run up the inside of Liam’s arm and back down to his wrist, renewing its gentle hold.

Mine. Even if it’s just for now.

* * *

The beach house wasn’t much further up a slope, the smell of sandy grass and dried seaweed lingering in the air as we climbed the steps. As soon as we found ourselves in the relative privacy of the porch, Liam slotted up against my back, arms winding around my chest while I unlocked the door. I reached back to draw him into the house with me.

Dim, golden light spilled into the living room as the door fell shut. My magic traced a path up the insides of Liam’s thighs. He retaliated by dragging his teeth over the nape of my neck, and I let my chin dip down for better access, the world swaying behind my lids. Everything awash in light.

I turned my head, and Liam caught my lips for a sweet brush of our mouths. My bones ached with how much I wanted him.

We stumbled up the stairs, somehow didn’t trip even as we kept kissing. “Shower?” I managed, squeezed into the nonexistent space between us, and Liam nodded, walked me backwards down the hallway, breathtaking in the fading haze of light. I pulled at his jumper, knocking into the doorframe.

We pressed together under the spray to wash the day and salt off our bodies, our clothes left scattered on the chequerboard pattern of the tiles. Blinded by him, our tongues sliding together, a hundred kisses deep, or a thousand.

Towels and warm skin, my hand around Liam's wrist as I pulled him towards my bedroom. He turned me around once we crossed the threshold, pulled me into him, and then my thighs hit the bed and I went down, down, down. Holding onto him as I did, trusting the mattress to catch me as I fell.

Breathe. My arms around his back, his weight on top of me. I reached up to trace the curve of his bottom lip, and it tilted up into a smile.

“Hi,” he whispered.

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