Page 22 of Sinfully Yours

The simple thing would be to argue, to remind him that I'm perfectly capable of taking care of myself, that I don't need a babysitter.

But when I look at him, something in my chest wavers.

Because this isn't about Liam being overprotective. This isn't about my brothers or about my needing saving.

This is about him.

His fingers press into the counter, the skin at his knuckles blanching just slightly. His shoulders roll back, not in tension, but in quiet resolve, like he's settling into the weight of his own decision. He doesn't shift, doesn't waver. His hands stay firm, planted, like moving isn't even an option.

And that—that—is what makes me nod.

"Fine." The word leaves me too quickly, like I'm trying to outrun it. "But you're taking the couch."

His gaze hooks into mine, steady, unreadable. Then, the smallest nod—acceptance, agreement, or something else entirely. "Of course, Bennett."

The way he speaks—that tone, that perfectly smooth, deep, rich baritone—slips beneath my ribs and tugs, winding its way down my spine, curling into my toes. My fingers flex, restless, itching for something I can't name.

Because now we're alone.

In my apartment.

At night.

And Liam Carter is not leaving.

I swallow hard, pressing my fingers to my temples like I can physically stop myself from thinking about what that means.

"Stop thinking so loudly," Liam teases.

I glare at him, but it's weak. "Stop being so loud."

"I'm not even doing anything."

"Exactly."

He lets out a low chuckle, stepping closer. Not close enough to touch, but close enough to make my breath catch.

Then his voice drops, just enough to make my stomach twist. "Relax, Bennett. I'll be the perfect gentleman."

I mutter a curse under my breath and turn away just so I don't have to see the smirk I know is there. "That would be a first."

He's still laughing quietly as I cross the room, pretending to be completely unaffected by the fact that Liam Carter is spending the night on my couch.

I grab a spare pillow and a blanket, shoving them against his chest when I return. "Here. Don't snore."

Liam catches them easily, but he's watching me too closely. And that's when it happens.

That's when I meet his gaze, and something in the air changes.

It's sharp, immediate.

Like the click of a lock.

Like we both realize, at the exact same time, that this isn't just tension anymore.

This is something else.

Something alive. Something breathing. Something that makes the room feel too small, the walls feel too close, the space between us feel nonexistent.

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