Page 63 of Vicious Little Snakes
I gasp at the contact and straighten, but his large hand stills, keeping me in place, splayed too close to where he unintentionally touched me. Liam’s so close that I feel the heat rippling off his body. My nipples pebble, and his fingers press into my skin, swallowing my ribcage.
Our bodies are almost flush against each other as his chest rises and falls, matching my breathing. I’m nervous because I don’t want whatever is happening to stop, but that’s how I know it has to. Liam’s reputation with the ladies has become his brand—he’s known for his friendly cock. And this is the most I’ve ever been touched. We aren’t the same.
Liam closes in on me, pulling me flush, whispering into my ear, “Your skin feels softer than satin. It’s unfair to ask me to never touch you again. So don’t.”
A slickness rushes between my thighs. I don’t answer him, but I want to because I haven’t stopped thinking about Liam since we metagain.
A voice calls out behind him, “Hey you!” breaking our connection.
Liam lets me go, but I feel his eyes on me as I step back, a bit flustered and still in a haze by the unexpected intensity of what just happened.
“Hey, dude. I want what I won,” I hear.
Liam begins grinning, holding up a hand. Confusion befalls my face as I crane my neck to see who is speaking.
A short little tyrant that looks all of nine or ten stomps toward us.
“Carebear. Listen, don’t hate me.”
Oh, this sounds ominous. Liam turns to face the little four-foot sailing champion.
“And why would I hate you?” I press, standing next to Liam.
He grips the back of his neck. “Because we lost.”
I shake my head up at him. “We?”
“Don’t be glib, sweetheart, you’re losing in this too.”
Before I can ask any more questions, the little guy grabs my hand, tugging me with his chubby fingers. “Come on.”
“Let go of my hand, you little monster. Where’s your nanny?”
The kid doesn’t answer as he tugs me to a bench a few feet away. Liam’s following behind, laughing, as I take my hand from the pushy little monster and watch as he crawls up, making us about the same height.
I look around for a parent or someone that looks in charge of him.
His cherubic little face fixes on mine. “Your boyfriend said that whoever won got to kiss you.”
“You said what?” I shriek, looking back at Liam.
He shoves his hands into his pockets and shrugs. “I could’ve never predicted he was a ringer, Carebear. I thought I was a shoo-in. I’m as upset as you in all of this.”
He’s so dead.
“Let’s do this, beautiful,” the tiny little terrorist demands in his thick New York accent.
My head shoots back to my toddler Romeo. “Excuse me. We will not be doing anything of the sort.”
“But he promised.”
“Hey. Be a gentleman,” I snap, before looking back at Liam. “And you. You wagered my lips with a child? You’re a degenerate. Truly foul.”
Liam’s laugh cracks like thunder through the sky, and I can’t help but join in.
It’s at this moment that it dawns on me that he wagered a kiss—and thought he was going to win. Liam’s face is bright and happy. He’s amused and giddy. I love it when he’s like this. It makes me want to find ways to stay in his light.
“Come on already,” the little shit whines.
