That night, I waited for Liam in my usual spot on the couch in the living room.

I heard the SUV pull into the drive, and my body immediately began to buzz with anticipation.

Over the last week, when rehearsals ended, he’d come to my place. Or I’d go to his. And every time, he’d show up with that look in his eyes, equal parts exhaustion and hunger, the one that said nothing in the world could stop him from being right where he was… with me.

He walked in through the front door like he owned the place. I peeked over the back of the couch.

“Oh, hey, baby girl,” I teased.

Liam groaned dramatically.

“Emma,” he said, shaking his head as he dropped his bag. “I am not baby girl. You… are baby girl.”

He made a beeline straight for me.

I tried, truly tried, to hide my smile behind my tablet… and failed miserably.

“Nope,” I said as he closed the distance. “It’s definitely you.”

When he reached the couch, he kissed me, soft at first, then followed it up with three more quick ones, like he couldn’t help himself. 

My heart flipped in my chest. It always did that when he was near. Even before we were officially us. Liam Teller had that effect on me. Now? It was dialed up to a thousand.

“You just love to be taken care of,” I teased. “Kisses, cuddles, and all the attention in the world after your big, hard day at rehearsals.”

He let out a dramatic sigh and flopped onto the couch like a man who’d just returned from war. “Stop. That does not make me, baby girl.”

“Oh, yes, it absolutely does.”

He pulled off his cap and ran both hands through his hair, ruffling the soft waves until they flipped over, falling across the opposite side of his part and tumbling over his left eye. The sight sparked a sudden, overwhelming urge to slide my fingers through it, to feel its texture.

I set my tablet on the coffee table, then gave him the universal come here signal, one finger curling inward. 

He didn’t hesitate.

He leaned in for another kiss, then shifted, his upper body settling between my thighs, his head resting low on my stomach.

My fingers slid into his hair. He hummed in approval, eyes fluttering shut as he melted into my touch.

“See?” I murmured with a smirk. “You are baby girl.”

“Would you just… kiss me?” he muttered.

He reached up, tugged me down, and kissed me again, deeper this time, all tongue and heat. My stomach flipped. Blood roared in my ears.

Then he pulled himself higher and rested his head on my chest. His favorite place in the world lately.

I let out a quiet laugh as more of his weight settled on top of me. His sigh came immediately, deep, content, exhaling the stresses of the day.

“Mmm,” he hummed.

Then he turned his face into my breasts.

“I missed you so much. And the… girls,” he said, voice muffled and teasing.

“The girls, huh?”

“They’ve probably felt neglected without me here to give them the attention they rightly deserve.”

“You’re ridiculous, Teller,” I said, shaking my head, but I was smiling anyway. “What about me? The woman attached to said boobs?”

He lifted his head, those wicked green eyes softening as they met mine. “Oh, you’re about to get all the attention. Don’t worry.”

A slow, knowing grin curled across his lips. “The girls are just part of the whole brilliant, glorious, beautiful package.”

I laughed, caught somewhere between charmed and exasperated.

“And they deserve extra love,” he added, dropping his head again. “The media’s been brutal to them.”

I groaned softly. “When are they ever not?”

He was referring to the Jason Strong interview. The “Are they real?” question Jason had asked my ex. It wasn’t anything new. I’d been getting those questions for years, ever since the Wild Nights & Broken Dreams video went viral. Ever since people decided my body was public property, like it was anyone’s fucking business.

But there was an extra pang of injustice knowing the answer had come from an ex. Someone I had trusted. A callous ‘they’re all hers’ was all he needed to say. It was infuriating. And all part of the effort to dehumanize me. Turn me into an effigy for everyone’s frustrations toward beautiful, successful women.

We weren’t allowed to exist without being punished for it. And Rick was making damn sure I was.

My fingers stilled absently. They were still in Liam’s thick, dark hair.

Liam watched me, his eyes searching my face, and I tried to shake off the sting.

“Do you want me to stop? Talk about it?” he murmured, lifting his head to look me in the eyes as his hand gripping me tighter, pulling me into his warmth, his body all solid muscle, sharp lines, and the steadiness I needed.

I took a breath and shook my head.

“No,” I said, sighing. “I don’t want to talk about my ex or that awful interview. I want to be here with you.”

“Good,” he said softly. “Stay with me, love.”

He pressed a soft kiss to my mouth, then moved lower to my breasts and kissed each one through my sheer bra and the thin fabric of my shirt.

A soft moan slipped out, low, involuntary.

His mouth kept moving and found my nipples, one hand undid the buttons on my shirt and then slid beneath the fabric, fingers trailing over soft skin before cupping one breast with a delicious roughness, pushing my bra up and out of the way.

Every thought, every bit of anger and hesitation, melted under his touch.

He stripped my breasts of their confines, and then our mouths collided, tongue, teeth, soft, wet lips, and a breathless urgency that sent a jolt of electricity rippling through me.

I wanted more. Here. Now. On this couch.

And the beauty of it was, I didn’t have to hold anything back. We could lose ourselves in the wild intensity of the moment until morning if we wanted to.

He felt it too. I could tell.

His kiss deepened. Hungrier, almost reckless. His tongue sliding along mine, swirling and gliding against my teeth.

My head spun, in the best way, as his weight settled over me, his body hot and hard against mine. His hips rolled. His lips moved from my mouth to trace along my jawline, then returned. His tongue pressed deeper. The heat between my legs ached and throbbed. I rolled my hips into him, chasing the friction.

“Fuck, Em,” Liam groaned, his voice thick and ragged. “I’ve been thinking about this all damn day.”

“Me too,” I whispered, breathless.

I tugged at the collar of his jacket, peeling it down his shoulders and tossing it toward the far end of the couch.

Then he rose to his knees and pulled his T-shirt off in one smooth motion.

My breath caught.

God, the sight of him, golden, tanned skin inked with stories I knew by heart. Dragons, guitars, skulls, birds, dates, and lyrics. Fallen gods and demon wings. His torso was a masterpiece of muscle and shadow. I ran my hands through the light dusting of dark hair on his chest, letting them drift down his treasure trail to those impossibly defined V-lines that made me feral for him and led to my favorite place on his body. 

I gripped his belt and pulled him into me. Hard.

“Ah… baby,” he moaned into my mouth.

My hands worked fast with a needy rhythm, unzipping his jeans, tugging them and his briefs down over his hips. He helped, ridding himself of all his clothes.

When he sprang free, I wrapped my hand around him, slow, deliberate, savouring every inch as I stroked.

He took off my shorts and panties. They slipped off easily.

Then we were skin on skin. His soft, velvety warmth against mine. We kissed and touched and pulled at each other until we were nothing but heat and sweat.

Liam broke the kiss, rising above me. His eyes darkened with hunger, and that wolfish grin of his sent a jolt of pure need through me.

I was still gripping his cock, stroking, unable to let go, addicted to the feel of him in my hand, thick and heavy.

“I just can’t get enough of you, baby,” he said, voice low and wrecked.

“Good,” I breathed. “I don’t ever want you to get enough. I want you feral, Liam.”

He smirked, that wicked glint in his eyes lighting up.

“Oh, I am, love. Every night. All day long. I feel like I’m going to come apart from the force of it, lose all reason, all sense, all control.”

“Lose control, please, Liam. I’m begging you to.”

He groaned and kissed me again, then lowered himself, hovering just above me. He pressed his lips to the spot behind my ear, the place that always made me shiver. He trailed lower, down my neck, across my collarbone, until I was forced to release him, and he reached my breasts.

I threaded my fingers through his hair and gave a gentle tug. He groaned in response.