Page 22 of Dangerous Pursuit
I let out a heavy exhale. "I don't know, okay? I don't know," I say, serious for the first time tonight. I lean forward, put my elbows on my knees, and run my palms over my face. Or maybe I'm trying to hide behind them. "You think this is easy for me?"
Liam regards me for a second. "Seems to be."
With my head still hanging low, I tilt it up to look him in the eye. "Well, it's not. Just because I don't show it doesn't mean I don't… question things."
He gives me the longest silence yet, as his eyes search my face, slowly, deliberately, diligently. I don't try to defuse the moment. I don't try to conceal anything, either. If he's looking for the truth, all he has to do is reach for it.
After the silence stretches so thin it morphs into imaginary sounds and then back into nothingness again, he finally seems to find it. "It's not easy for me, either."
And that's about as much tension as I can take because even though Liam has reached the truth, he's still searching for something. Yeah, this man's stare can be intimidating even when he doesn't intend it to be.
Unable to hold his gaze, I half-turn my body, so that I'm facing him and go for the lowest voice within my range. "So… would you say it's hard, then?
His expression changes without really changing again, and my breath catches in my throat. Because I recognize this one.
I've seen it before.
And if the look on his face wasn't enough to make me forget how to joke altogether, his words definitely are. "I don't know. Is it?"
I beg my mouth not to fall open and I graze my teeth against my lower lip instead. Too many thoughts war inside my mind, too many questions demand answers all at once.
I have no fucking agency. I'm merely a spectator, an observer of my own actions as I watch my hand lift inslow motion and float through the air between us—impatient, determined. Shaking.
A part of me wishes whatever alter-ego is controlling my movements right now would put my hand right on his crotch, squeeze his dick, and slap a cocky grin on my face.
I think he'd like that. Maybe he even expects it.
But my alter-ego is not that bold and my hand lands on his solid thigh instead, fingers trembling, embarrassing me, exposing me for what I am—huge mouth, little game.
Liam's skin is hot even through the fabric.
He stares right into my eyes, and the glint in his is challenging, almost taunting.
Trying to hold his stare is a fucking workout.
I'm a stone statue, sitting perfectly still as an invisible force slides my hand down to the inside of his thigh and then up, and up, and up along the vastness of his body.
Faster, my consciousness screams, cozying itself in a role of a third party in this two-person scenario. For a second I lose a sense of self. I'm an actor, and a director and a viewer of my own movie, and it's not until my hand travels that final inch and the tips of my fingers graze against Liam's cock that all of my scrambled parts come together and I'm myself again.
Touching another man's dick.
"Verdict?" His voice finds a way to be rough and soft at the same time.
I bite on my lower lip, scoot closer and all but grope him.
Jesus.
"Yep. Definitely hard."
Liam's upper body tenses, shoulder blades pulling back as he slowly closes his eyes and parts his lips slightly at the same time, before letting out a deep exhale.
Everything becomes easier without the weight of his stare on me and I'm becoming acutely aware of my own body.
I'm uncomfortably hot, painfully tense. And hard like a motherfucker.
I slowly rise to my feet and try not to focus too much on the reality of what I'm doing as I press my palm harder against his obvious boner before moving it up and down in rhythm with the music spilling through the crack under the heavy doors, from the jungle right into our private little garden.
I feel every move of my hand on my own cock, as if I'm the one being touched. I put my free hand on his upper back and slide it from shoulder to shoulder, from massive arm to massive arm. Learning the map of his body.
