“Making sure I stick around for baby?”
Lucy’s face darkens. Her mouth flattens, then she chews her lip. I wait for her to speak—or leave.
THIRTY-ONE Lucy
I’m not really surprised. I figured he would be embarrassed when he woke up. Someone like Liam—of course he would be.
I’m not a moron. I realize he probably sees himself as a cool, collected bachelor type. Despite the things he said to me in our brief time together, Liam is young and filthy rich and charming. I don’t know if I can trust the things he said about his feelings for me now that he’s sober, but I knew he’d be embarrassed when he realized that I’d stuck around and nursed him through his first few days of detox.
Logically, I know I shouldn’t be surprised or hurt.
And yet…
I sigh, and climb up onto the foot of his bed.
“You’re in a grouchy mood.”
“You think?”
I can’t help smiling slightly at him, at this grumpy Liam with short hair and a gorgeous, sullen mouth.
“I do think.” I arch an eyebrow at him, and I notice his cheek twitch. “Don’t smile, Liamie. Don’t. I’m serious. If you smile, I’ll have to jump on you and kick your ass for being such a grumpy jerkface.”
One side of his mouth tugs up. With effort, he flattens it back out.
“I might have to kiss the smile off your mouth. If you smile.”
And there he goes. I grin back at him, triumphant, then I launch myself at his bare chest.
The Liam who wraps his arms around me is so glorious and warm, hard muscle under velvety soft skin still tanned from his wild summer.
His mouth—on my forehead first—feels so, so right. Then his lips trail down my cheek. His tongue glides into my mouth, and our kissing deepens. Liam groans, the sound lost against my skin although I feel it echo in the tightness of his body.
“Christ…”
And then we’re falling into each other. My hands searching for his hair at first, then seizing on his neck as I kiss him as hard as I can, as hard as I’ve wanted to the last few days. Liam pulls me so close my breasts are mashed against his chest. He gropes my ass, then flips me over, pressing me into his pillows as he climbs atop me.
“Lucy… Lucy, Lucy.” I watch as his body curves, his handsome face drawing nearer as he kisses—bites my throat. His mouth is hard and warm, spreading chills over my body, making me gasp, then groan as his teeth bite…and then his tongue laves: warm, soft velvet.
“You think you can stay here and escape this?” His mouth moves underneath my jaw, making my body jolt with pleasure; then his lips are back on mine. He’s rough, almost infuriated as he dominates my mouth and strokes my body, reaching into my robe, in between my legs. His fingers probe inside me, filling me deliciously, making me moan and arch against him.
“Liam…”
“Isn’t this what you wanted? Did you stay around so I would fuck you one more time?”
He leans down between my legs, his wide shoulders forcing my knees apart as his mouth inches closer to my pussy. “I’ll be glad to fuck you.”
Even as his tongue laps my clit and my body jolts, I’m grabbing at his shorter hair. I press myself against his face, driven by pure need, trying to speak, to tell him that he’s full of shit. But I’m no match for his tongue and fingers.
I end up moaning, nearly screaming, as he feasts on my most tender skin. I come twice—hard—before he lifts me off the bed. He’s lying down now, boxer-briefs gone, his long cock hard, his hand pumping around it.
“Get on top of me, Lucy. I need that body… Need to be inside you.”
His eyes glow, but they look hard—and different. I’m not sure what he’s looking to prove, but I don’t care. I want him so much, I care so much, I can do nothing but position myself over him and spread myself so I can take his long, thick cock. I sit down on him slowly, watching the strain across his face as I cover him inch by slow, glorious inch.
Then I’m so full I can’t help but cry out. Liam is moving, clutching me and thrusting. I peek at his face and find his jaw is clenched, his eyes shut tightly. I notice his taut nipples and I want to pinch one—so I do, and his eyes flip open.
“Such a bad girl, Lucy.”
Before I know it, we’ve flipped, and I’m on bottom. Liam is driving into me with force that makes me scream, that makes me slick, that makes me dig my nails into his skin.
He fucks me like he wants to punish me, coming as hard as I do in the end. I watch his face and torso as he comes, his cock jerking inside me, his thick arms stiffening over me. His eyes are shut as he pulls out and turns away.
He stays there, sitting on his knees, my view the muscled grooves of his amazing ass. I watch his hand drag back, seeking his longer hair. I watch his fingers as they squeeze his neck.
When he turns to me, his face is hard and so cold, I feel sick before he even speaks.
“I turned to drinking, Lucy, because of…stress. I didn’t realize that I couldn’t stop, but maybe that’s because I didn’t want to realize. That’s my fault. It’s all on me. And it’s weakness. Nothing more and nothing less.” I open my mouth, but the look on his face quiets me. “You don’t know who I am, Lucy. Not really.”
“I do, too—”
His jaw tightens as he stares down at me. Shakes his head. “I’m not royal. I’m not a prince. And I don’t want a princess.”
When I don’t respond—because I’m too confused—he knee-walks to me, lifts me up, and sets me on the rug beside his bed.
He passes me my robe. “I want some time alone, please. We can talk some other time.”
Without another look into my eyes, he gets down off the bed and disappears into the bathroom. Soon after, I hear the shower water.
Holy fucking hell. I gather Grey into my arms and walk slowly across the hall.
*
Liam
I’m not sure I’ve ever felt so loved—or hated myself so fucking much. I stay in my bathroom until the steam’s so thick it’s choking me. Because I know she’ll be in my room when I come out. I know Lucy. She’ll be there with open arms, because that’s how she is. She’s good and kind and perfect. Not what I deserve at all.
I feel so sure she’ll be there waiting in a chair or on my bed, I do something I’ve not done in years: I sink down to the floor and cross myself and say a silent prayer.
That when I tell her how damn sorry I am for what I said a little while ago, she’ll see I mean it and forgive me. That I can explain the wreck that is my life and she won’t see me the way I’m sure that everybody else would: Weak. Pathetic.
It’s no shock I’m not a king. I’ve never had the traits one needs to rule. I can’t even control myself. But I can control the way I treat Lucy.
I can give her everything I have. Her and our baby.
I can get down on my knees and say I’m sorry that I treated her so crassly after she gave me so fucking much kindness.