Page 18 of Unwrap Me After Dark
We jog back to our cabin in silence, the storm still raging around us. When the door closes behind us, we’re left standing in the dark entryway, soaking wet, breathing hard, not looking at each other.
And I still want to kiss him.
6
Tyler
WATER DRIPS FROM MY clothes onto the hardwood floor, forming puddles at my feet. Next to me, Liam stands equally drenched, his dark hair plastered against his forehead, rivulets running down his neck and disappearing beneath his soaked hoodie. My heart still hammers against my ribs—the image of him climbing that tree flashing through my mind on repeat like some horror film I can’t shut off. The echo of my desperate shout when that branch broke, and he was free-falling, still rings in my ears. Even what happened afterwards—when Liam fell on top of me and we almost kissed—cannot override that moment of pure, unfiltered terror when I thought he was going to break his neck.
I curl my fingers into fists, fighting to regain control of my breathing, of the situation—of myself.
“What were you thinking?” The words escape through clenched teeth. “Climbing that tree in the middle of the goddamn night, in the rain?”
Liam looks at me, water droplets clinging to his lashes. In the dim entryway light, his blue eyes appear navy.
“The cat would’ve died up there.”
“And you could’ve killed yourself!”
Defiance flickers across his face. His chin lifts in that stubborn way of his, the one that both infuriates me and does dangerous things to my insides.
“Why do you care?” he challenges, voice quiet but edged with steel. “For all I know, you wanted me to fall from that tree. One less problem.”
The accusation should make me angry. Instead, it cuts deeper than it has any right to. His words hang between us, but there’s no conviction behind them. Not anymore. Not after the way I screamed his name when he slipped. Not after I caught him at the bottom, my arms wrapping around him with such desperate force that we both crashed to the ground.
He must know now that Icare. But why is he being so stubborn?
A thought hits me with stunning clarity: Liam wants me to admit that I care about him.
I take a step toward him, my soaked boots squeaking against the floor. “You want to believe I’m the monster, don’t you? The bully. The stepbrother from hell.” Another step. “It’s easier that way.”
His breathing quickens, but he doesn’t retreat. His blue eyes track my movement, pupils dilating.
“The truth is,” I continue, testing my theory, watching for his reaction, “I do care about you, Liam. I don’t want any danger threatening you.”
I’m close enough now to see the pulse jumping in his throat, to feel the heat radiating from his rain-chilled skin. Something primal stirs in me, possessive and hungry.
“Correction,” I murmur, “I want the only danger threatening you to beme.”
Liam stares at me, his chest rising and falling rapidly. For one moment, the only sound in the cabin is our breathing and the persistent drip of water from our clothes.
Then he lunges.
His mouth crashes against mine with surprising force, throwing me back against the front door. The impact knocks the air from my lungs, but I don’t care—not when Liam’s lips are pressed against mine, demanding and desperate. His hands fist in my wet shirt, pulling me closer even as he pins me to the door.
We’re soaking wet and cold, but the heat building between us could set the cabin ablaze. I kiss him back with equal force, one hand gripping his hip while the other tangles in his hair, angling his head to deepen the kiss. Our teeth clash, a battle for dominance neither of us is willing to surrender.
I bite his lower lip, and the moan that escapes him sends white-hot desire surging through my veins. His tongue pushes past my lips, exploring, claiming. He tastes like rain and something uniquely Liam—something I’ve craved without realizing it.
My hands find the hem of my t-shirt, peeling the cold, clinging fabric away from my skin. We break apart just long enough for me to yank it over my head and toss it to the floor with a wet slap. Liam’s eyes rake over my chest, hunger written across his face. I reach for him, tugging at his soaked hoodie.
“Off,” I growl, and he complies, allowing me to strip away the heavy fabric, followed by the t-shirt underneath.
We crash together again, skin to skin, mouths seeking, hands exploring. He gasps when I drag my teeth along his neck, his hips jerking forward to grind against mine. The friction, even through our wet jeans, sends sparks shooting up my spine.
We stumble down the hallway, unwilling to separate even as we navigate through the darkened cabin. My back hits a wall, then a doorframe. We’re in the master bedroom—Liam’s bedroom—when I finally break away to look at him.
His lips are swollen from our kisses, his hair a chaotic mess. I’ve never seen anything more beautiful or more dangerous to my sanity.
