Page 67 of Liam

Almost.

Clearly, my need to be near him outweighs that thought, because I carefully lift the covers and slide in beside him, cozying into the crook of his arm. And even though I just escaped the blistering heat outside, Liam’s sleep warmth is something else. Somethingmore.

Still flat on his back with his eyes closed, his hand immediately finds the curve of my hip, and he smiles to one side—all carefree and drowsy. “Mmm, I could get used to this.”

Before I can respond, he’s up and out of the bed, his eyes barely open as he stumbles his way to the bathroom. A momentpasses before the toilet flushes, then the water runs, and then the distinct sound of brushing teeth.

He returns a couple of minutes later and gets under the covers again. Only this time, he’s on his side, facing me, one hand tucked beneath him. “Mornin’” he says, his voice all deep and scratchy from sleep.

“Morning.”

He moves in, his nose brushing mine. “Fuck,” he murmurs, shifting until he’s on top of me, his legs between mine, his weight held up by his forearms. “Mornin’”

I giggle. “You said that already.”

“I did?”

I tap his temple. “You’re still half-asleep.”

“Am I dreaming?”

“I don’t know. Am I naked?”

His bleary blue eyes trail down the length of me, then right back up. “Not yet,” he murmurs, right before pressing his erection against my core. “So…” he starts.

“So…” I repeat.

“Are you going to kiss me again or leave me hanging?”

“Um…” I narrow my eyes at him. “Youkissed me.”

“Absoluteblatantlie.”

“No, you—” His mouth meets mine, blocking my words, my breaths, my thoughts…

His kiss is soft—toothpaste minty, and his lips are warm as they play with mine, and then his tongue…

When he finally pulls away, I keep my eyes closed, remember every moment. “God, Addie. I was up all night just thinking about doing that again.”

I finally open my eyes. “Me too.”

“Christ,” he says, pulling away and rolling to his side. He immediately adjusts himself, then glances sideways at me. “Tell me more about your foster parents.”

I laugh once. “That’s asharpturn in the complete opposite direction.”

“I know,” he sighs. “But I need a distraction from”—his gaze drops to the bulge tenting his boxer shorts—“this.” He gets up, standing at the side of the bed, hands covering his erection as he looks down at me. “In fact, we should set some rules.”

I’m still drunk on desire when I ask, “Rules?”

He nods. “Boundaries.”

I roll my eyes. “Sounds lame, but okay.”

He chuckles at that, but continues, “Rule one: No lying in bed during work hours.” He offers me his hand, and I reluctantly take it so he can pull me out of the bed. I wait until he’s dressed and leave the bedroom with him.

Ten minutes later, we’re on the couch, me on my back, him between my legs. It’s the exact same position he forced us to abort, only now there’slessroom, bringing us physically closer. My fingers curl around his hair when he bites down on the collar of my shirt, tugging it lower to reveal my bra. He licks a line at the top of my bra, heating my flesh, and I jerk my hips in response. “Jesus, Liam,” I whisper, then laugh suddenly.

He stops, his eyes lifting to mine, eyebrows raised in question.

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