Page 59 of Liam

I hand her the clothes. “You can change in here. I’m going to shower.”

I take the coldest shower I can physically handle, but it does nothing to lessen the adrenaline pumping through my veins. Or the blood rushing to my dick. I give up hope and get out, dry quickly, slip on my shorts, then mindlessly go back to the bedroom. Where Addie is. Facing a full-length mirror, her back to the door, she slowly, and I’m almost certain—deliberately—drags her shorts up and over her ass as if she’s putting on a show, just for me.

Jesus, take the wheel.

In fact, take the whole damn car.

I can’t breathe. I can’t form a single thought. I can, however, force my gaze to meet hers through the mirror.

She doesn’t speak.

Neither do I.

Did she do that on purpose, just to mess with me? No. I should’ve knocked. I don’t know why I didn’t. Clearly, my mind is gone. Completely lost. Slap that bitch on a graphic and share it on socials, and type:missing.

Addie breaks the stare first, bending over to collect the pile of wet clothes by her feet. “Do you have a dryer?”

I come to, stepping forward and taking the clothes from her. I make quick work of dumping them in the dryer, and when I return, she’s at the dresser, picking up my headphone case, inspecting it, then placing it back down. “So,” she says.

“So,” I return, sitting on the edge of the bed.

With her back still turned, she asks, “What exactly were we doing in this dream of yours?”

Of course, she wants the details. If the roles were reversed, I’d want them, too. Luckily for her, I’ve been trying out this new Adelaide Baker routine lately—saying exactly what’s on my mind. I keep my eyes trained on her, watching for a response, when I tell her, “Weweren’t doing anything. You were doing all the work.”

Her shoulders stiffen, just for a moment. “Hmm,” she says, finally facing me. “Was I clothed?”

Ignoring the heat rushing to my cheeks, I shake my head.

She eyes the ceiling, pondering. “Was I hot?”

“Addie,” I scoff. “You’re wearing my clothes—clothes way too big. I can barely make out your body—and you’re hot right now.” In fact, she’s never been hotter.

“You think I’m hot?”

“I have eyes.”

“Today is just full of surprises,” she says, going back to the random junk on my dresser. “Speaking of surprises, where did you disappear to last night?”

I clear my throat, try to rid my mind of filth. “They didn’t tell you?”

“No.”

“I was at my brother’s,” I answer. “He works nights sometimes, so I like to be there with his wife and kid when he can’t be.”

“His wife is Mia?”

I breathe out a “Yep.”

She turns to me, her eyes skating over my bare torso, then turns around again. “You run a lot, huh?”

“I guess.”

“And you do boxing lessons?”

“Uh-huh.”

“So that’s how you get your… physique?”

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