Wicked Heart (Starcrossed #3)(28)

I close my eyes and sigh. How can I say no to that?

Without another word, I take his hand and lead him out of the party.


Anticipation is tingling in all of my limbs, making me hot and restless. Liam seems equally tense. His hands are shoved in his pockets, shoulders hunched, eyes darting around nervously before coming back to me, time and again. My face. My breasts. My legs.

All of me.

The sexual tension is making the confines of his apartment stifling, and the boxes of his belongings that are stacked against the wall don’t help.

He stares at me for a few, spine-tingling seconds, and then he seems to come to his senses. “I’m being a terrible host. Can I get you anything?” He walks the two steps to the fridge. “I have . . . uh . . .” He opens the door and peers in. “Well, not a lot.” I can see that the fridge is practically bare. He shuts it and turns to me. “I spent all my food money on the airline ticket. I’ve been surviving on crackers and cheese for most of the week.”

“Nothing wrong with surviving on cheese. I do it all the time. It’s the food of kings.”

He gives me a smile. “If I ever become a big star, I’ll buy a Hollywood mansion with a dedicated cheese room. You can stay over.”

“Just when I thought you couldn’t get any sexier, you go and say that.” I’m not even joking.

His expression darkens. “Is that right?”

We stare at each other, and I swear to God, the walls inch closer.

Liam takes a step forward. “Elissa . . .” The way he says my name makes me step forward, too. Then his hands are on my face, and he’s leaning down, and sweet Jesus, I’ve never wanted someone to kiss me so much in my entire life. I take a breath and try to keep my eyes open.

“Do you understand how many fantasies I’ve had about you over the past two months?” he asks, his lips almost touching mine.

“If it’s even half the number I’ve had about you, then yes, and I’m embarrassed for both of us.”

“We can compare fantasies later. First, let me do this before I lose my mind.”

He brushes his lips across mine, and we both inhale sharply. He pulls back and opens his mouth a little more to capture my lips in his. Light suction spins tiny shock waves down all my limbs.

“These lips have been driving me insane. Also, this neck.” Soft kisses trail down my throat. Teeth nibble and tease. “This body. Okay, let’s be honest. All of you.” He grips my hips and maneuvers me back against the wall. “You’re the most arousing woman I’ve ever met. Will ever meet.”

My pulse thunders in my ears as I stare at his mouth. “I doubt that’s true.”

“Don’t. And I don’t know how, but . . .” He takes my hands from his chest and pushes them into the wall above my head. en he traps my wrists in his hands and squeezes. Not enough to cause pain. Just enough to make every neuron overload and scream for more. “I know how to please you, Liss. I’ve known it from the first time I saw you.” He squeezes my wrists again as he grazes over my lips. “I can feel what you need. But I’d still like you to tell me what you want.”

I’m not good at saying what I want. I think that’s why I’ve never orgasmed with a man. I boss people around enough in my professional life—I don’t want to have to do it in the bedroom. And I definitely don’t want to have to draw a man a map to make me orgasm.

“Say it,” he says, his voice low and commanding. “I can see you thinking about it. Tell me and I’ll make it happen.”

He winds his fingers between mine and slides them down the wall until they’re beside my head. My breaths are so fast and shallow, I feel like I’m about to hyperventilate.

“Make me come,” I say.

His expression intensifies into pure, primal hunger. “Yes, ma’am.”

Without another word, he pins me to the wall and kisses me like it’s his job.

Oh.

God.

This man. His mouth. The same mouth I’ve fantasized about every day for the past eight weeks. The same sweet lips. Exactly the right amount of suction to drive me crazy.

When he slides his tongue against mine, I lose control. I kiss him back desperately. His hands roam across my body as we kiss, pushing under my clothes, gripping and squeezing flesh. He’s not gentle. That’s fine with me. Gentle is boring.

I take the opportunity to touch him in all the ways I’ve dreamt about. I explore every muscle. Every hard plane and groove.

I grip his forearms as they tense and release, then run my hands up to his biceps. They flex as he cradles my face and covers my mouth with his. When I push under his T-shirt and run my fingers along the waistband of his jeans, he grabs my hands and presses them back into the wall, hard.

“We’ve just established I have a job to do. Stop trying to distract me.”

I kiss him deeper. A low rumble echoes in his chest, dark and animalistic. I’ve never heard a sexier noise come out of a man. He kisses my neck, then works his way back up to my ear.

“Take your clothes off,” he whispers. His warm breath makes me shudder. “I need to see you.”

I’m too turned on to even answer, so I nod.

He kisses me once more before he walks over to the bed and sits on the edge.

Nervousness prickles my spine. I like to think I’m con dent with my body, but that’s when I’m with mere mortals. Liam is the definition of masculine perfection. Being open to his scrutiny is downright intimidating.