Page 92 of The Wedding Engagement

“I wonder if that’s why I’ve kept away from serious relationships. Because I don’t want to be hurt or hurt anyone the way Dad did Mum. Or Cat did Sam.” She paused. “Or how I hurt Dean.”

It killed him that she was still beating herself up about that. Good job that fucker Dean had left town years back, otherwise Arran would’ve hunted the twat down and kicked his arse all the way to John O’Groats and into the North Sea.Get in the sea, dickhead.

“You know now that’s not true, right?” he asked her, searching her face. “Your intentions were good with Dean, and he was a dick who exploited your emotional vulnerabilities. You could never hurt someone the way Dave did. You’re the total opposite.” He smiled. “The anti-Dave.”

She laughed softly. “I like the sound of that. But I suppose it’s something I need to work on. I think I’m jaded about relationships in general, after witnessing both Mum’s and Sam’s trauma.” She swallowed. “Every time I get too close to someone romantically, I get these horrible palpitations and this sickening feeling. But instead of facing it and trying to fathom it, I buried it, and for years I let everyone think I was this unlucky-in-love, desperate-for-a-relationship person. But really, I was actively avoiding commitment.” She raised her eyebrows. “I’m like Nico, by stealth.”

Arran laughed. “I never thought there’d be a scenario where we’d be grouping you in with Hadid.”

She pulled his hand closer, pressing her lips to his skin again, and the heat pooling in his belly sent a ripple lower, making his morning glory strain hard against his boxers. He shifted his hips backward lest Liv accidentally brushed against it and it had her running for the hills, traumatized by her best mate’s erection.

“I think that’s why I backed off after we kissed,” she told him tentatively. “That horrible feeling came over me, exacerbated by the altercation with that guy. I had this twisted sense of guilt about defending myself. Must be a throwback to Mum telling me that standing up for myself means I have a bad temper like my dad.”

He pulled her close to kiss her forehead.

She snuggled in further, giving him a shy look. “I think what made it worse this time is that, I, ah…Ireallylike you.”

A burst of joy caught fire in his chest, and it really didn’t do anything to help the tent situation in his underwear.

She was looking at him with that same intensity, the way she’d done when he’d nearly kissed her on the sofa the previous evening, before they’d been interrupted by Sam’s SOS call. The way she’d looked at him that night on Skye.But this time it’s a million times hotter.

“I wanted more to happen between us,” Liv said, her voice scratchy. “I just got scared.” She cleared her throat. “Because you mean so much to me.”

He gave her a smile, his heart fit to burst. “Well, shit. And here was me thinking I was the tortured, brooding, relationship-averse one. When all along it was you.”

Liv let out a laugh. “Brooding? You?” She gave his chest a little nudge. “You’re a total sweetheart.” She grinned. “However, that’ll teach you to go in for gender stereotypes.”

He chuckled. “Yep.”

“I need to admit something else,” she told him, her voice soft.

“What’s that?” he asked, mesmerized by her eyes.

She swallowed. “I’ve kind of been wearing your green T-shirt to bed.”

The idea of that was as hot as a volcano. “Kind of?”

She smiled. “Well, not kind of. Totally. Every night.”

He let out a gentle laugh, pushing his fingers farther into her hair, then trailing them through her dark waves. “Not gonna lie. I fucking love that.” He bent his head to drop a feather-soft kiss at the corner of her mouth, and she shivered in response. “I like the idea of something of mine being wrapped around you while you sleep.” Her breath hitched, and his eyes were drawn to her mouth as heremembered the feel of her lips against his. His gaze dropped lower. The T-shirt she was wearing was aDoctor Whodesign and sported a big picture of a Dalek on it. The material was pretty threadbare and, unless he was mistaken and Daleks had nipples he hadn’t been aware of, he could see the stiff outline of Liv’s. Never mind exterminate; he was about to spontaneously combust. “I also need to confess some things,” he told her, his voice thick.

“Oh yeah?” she whispered.

“Mm-hmm.” He dropped another light kiss, this time at the opposite corner of her mouth. No sense in leaving things uneven. Plus he loved the way she shivered whenever he did that. “I also want more to happen between us. I also really like you, and”—he leaned to brush his lips against the shell of her ear, sensing goose bumps erupting on her skin in response—“I also sleep with your T-shirt.”

He leaned back to take in her puzzled expression.

“But it would never fit you,” she said.

He smiled and lifted his top pillow to reveal her T-shirt spread out between it and the pillow below. “I can neither confirm nor deny the rumor that I smell it every night before I go to sleep.”

She looked at the T-shirt, then back at him, her green eyes luminescent with desire. She tugged him back in, and he dropped the pillow back into place to oblige.

Holding her close, he studied every fleck of green and gold in her irises, feeling like he could look at her forever. He ran his gaze over the delicious curve of her cheek, dropping a kiss there, then on the other cheek. She began to tremble in his arms, and he stroked a hand down her back to soothe her. Then his eyes caught on her mouth. Her lips were so plump and pink.So soft.He brushed the tip of his thumb across her bottom lip, remembering how she’d tasted, and realizing this was a dangerous game with regard to the ever-evolving underwear-tent situation.

Then she bit the tip of his thumb, steadily meeting his gaze, and he was lost.Oh God.

“Arran,” she whispered.

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