Page 143 of Cruel When He Smiles
I open my mouth, close it, then open it again, because my brain’s still catching up to the fact that Liam Callahan just said those words to me. Liam doesn’t do happy. Liam doesn’t even flirt without a hidden agenda. And yet, here he is, fingers laced with mine, looking at me like I’ve done something to him he can’t undo.
“Liam—”
“Don’t ruin it.” He scrubs a hand down his face before letting it drop to his side again. “I don’t know how to do this shit. I don’t know how to say the right thing without it sounding fucked. But you should know this, so I’m saying it. You make me happy, Nate. Even when I don’t think I deserve it.”
It freezes me in place. This is real; raw in a way that Liam hates being, and yet he’s giving it to me without dressing it up in control or threats.
I swallow hard, my hand tightening on his without even thinking. “You deserve it, Liam.”
His eyes shift, a bitter glint cutting through them for just a second before it fades. “Do I?”
“Yeah,” I say, my voice firmer now as I step a little closer to him. “You fucking do.”
He shakes his head once, jaw clenching, but he doesn’t drop my hand. “No one’s ever told me that before.”
My heart does that stupid thing again, but I shove it down. “Then they’re all fucking idiots.”
There’s the faintest twitch at the corner of his mouth, but it doesn’t land as a smile. He looks back out over the water, exhaling like he’s trying to decide how much more of himselfhe’s willing to hand over tonight. When he speaks again, it’s quieter, almost like he’s talking to himself.
“I want to own you,” he says. “But I also want to protect you.”
My heart thuds painfully, because I get it. I’ve always gotten it. He wants to possess me in every way possible, but there’s more to it. He wants to keep me safe from anything that isn’t him. He wants all of me, but he doesn’t want to destroy the parts he actually values. It’s fucked up, but it’s honest.
His eyes darken, lips parting, and for a second, I think he’s going to kiss me. Instead, his fingers trail along my jaw, tilting my chin up so I have no choice but to meet his gaze.
“You scare the shit out of me because I was trained to feel nothing. To cut it out before it could touch me. But you—” he pauses, letting the truth hang between us, “—you got in anyway.”
My eyes widen at his words, and I can see the moment he realizes he admitted them. But he doesn’t try to twist them into something they’re not.
I bring my free hand up to rest on his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat under my palm. “Then don’t shut me out again.”
He answers me by pulling me closer and kissing me, cupping the side of my neck, thumb brushing the line of my jaw. I tilt my head into the touch without thinking, his lips soft and warm, and his hands steady on me.
Standing there, with his lips on mine and the sun sinking behind us, I hate how much I don’t want him to let go—but I don’t tell him that. Not yet.
Instead, I hold on just a little tighter, because if there’s one thing I’m starting to understand about Liam Callahan, it’s that the second you give him an inch, he’ll take the whole fucking mile—and part of me doesn’t even want to stop him.
Liam
Nate’sasleepinthepassenger seat, head tipped toward me, his breathing slow and even. His arms are folded loosely over his chest, his whole body soft in a way I rarely get to see. It’s not just sleep—it’s that complete dropping of his guard that he doesn’t even know he’s giving me.
I should be watching the road, but my eyes keep drifting back to him. The glow from the streetlights moves over his face in slow waves, highlighting the cut of his cheekbone, the little scar under his lip, the ridiculous length of his lashes.
He doesn’t look like the sharp-mouthed brat who spends half his time trying to bait me into losing control. He looks… safe. Like he trusts me enough to let everything go.
And that thought hits me right in the ribs, hard enough that I grip the wheel tighter and drag a breath through my nose. I’m not even trying to stop my brain from spiraling anymore—it’s been happening too much lately. I keep telling myself to rein itin, but with Nate, it’s different. He’s the only person who’s ever pulled me back from it.
The first thing my brain throws at me is those three days.
Three fucking days where I didn’t hear from him. Not a text, not a call, not even some half-assed sarcastic comment meant to remind me he still had teeth. I did that. I was cruel enough to make him think he should stay away because pushing him out felt easier than letting him close enough to see what he does to me.
Except it wasn’t easier.
It was hell.
Every hour felt like something was chewing through my chest from within. I kept telling myself it was what I wanted, that the silence was control. That if I didn’t have to hear his voice or see that defiance in his eyes, I’d be fine. That I could go back to the way things were before he started slipping past every fucking defense I built.
But every time my phone lit up, I wanted it to be him. Every time it wasn’t, I hated myself a little more for making it that way. How ironic—I wanted him to be the one dependent, and I ended up needing him more than my next breath.
