Page 120 of Sinfully Yours

The words knock the breath from my lungs. "You do?"

His gaze lifts to mine. "Of course I do."

Silence stretches between us, filled with unspoken things.

"I don't know what this is," I admit, my voice softer now, "but it's not fake. Not to me."

Liam watches me for a long moment, something unreadable in his expression. Then, finally, he exhales, shaking his head like he's just accepted something inevitable.

"It's not fake to me either."

The weight of it presses against my ribs—too heavy, too much.

So I do the only thing I can do. I stand.

Liam moves the dishes away, stacking them inside the fridge, and then follows without a word as I walk toward the balcony, stepping into the crisp early morning air. The city stretches out below us, bathed in soft lavender and gold, the first hints of sunrise breaking across the skyline.

I wrap my arms around myself, trying to feel something solid beneath all the uncertainty.

Liam steps up behind me. He doesn't touch me, but I feel his presence, steady and grounding.

"I've never felt this before," he says quietly. "Not like this."

I turn slightly, meeting his gaze. "And that scares you?"

A small, wry smile. "Terrifies me."

I inhale slowly. "Me too."

His hand finds mine, fingers lacing together.

The city hums below us, bathed in the early hues of sunrise—soft gold melting into lavender, stretching across the skyline like a quiet promise. But I barely see it.

All I see is him.

I swallow hard, my pulse a slow, measured drum against my ribs.

"Liam," I whisper, not entirely sure what I'm asking.

But he seems to understand anyway.

Without a word, his free hand rises, fingers brushing along my jaw, tracing the delicate curve of my cheek. He watches me like he's memorizing the moment, like he's afraid to break whatever fragile thing exists between us.

Then, he leans in.

The kiss is unhurried. His lips press against mine with a kind of aching certainty, a slow, searching tenderness that steals the breath from my lungs. There's no urgency, no rush—only the soft press of his mouth, the warmth of his body as he angles closer, deepening the kiss by degrees.

Heat unfurls, spreading through my limbs like wildfire.

Liam's hand slides to my waist, anchoring me against him. His thumb strokes along my hip, a lazy, lingering touch that sends shivers up my spine. My fingers curl into his shirt, clinging, needing more.

He pulls back just slightly, his breath warm against my lips.

"Come inside with me," he murmurs, voice low, rough with restraint.

My stomach tightens. There's no hesitation, no second-guessing.

"Yes," I breathe.

---