Wicked Heart (Starcrossed #3)(53)

I sip my beer, and we lapse into silence as he finishes the dish. When he places a steaming bowl in front of me, topped with a generous serving of Parmesan, my mouth waters like crazy.

“Thank you.”

“As usual with you, Elissa Holt,” he says with a mischievous smile, “the pleasure is all mine. Bon appetit.”

He sits next to me as we eat. It’s both comfortable and tense, and I’m realizing that’s kind of normal for us.

“So,” I say. “You seeing your mom and dad while you’re in town?”

He shakes his head. “I bought them a round-the-world trip ages ago, and didn’t realize it coincided with my stay. They’re traveling for the next two months. Hopefully I’ll get to see them before I head back to L.A. If the show lasts that long.”

I finish my last bite and wipe my mouth with a napkin. “Oh, it’ll last. Don’t worry. Parmesan and truffle onstage every night? Audiences will eat it up.”

He laughs, then takes our empty bowls over to the sink. “Well, that’s encouraging.” He grabs two more beers out of the fridge and passes me one. When we head back over to the couch, I wince as I sit.

He looks at me with concern. “Hip still sore?”

“Only a little. My bruise, however, could win awards. It’s kind of cool, in a gross, blood-filled way.”

He lays his arm along the back of the couch. “Can I see?”

“My bruise?”

He nods. “Purely for medical purposes. Sometimes a severe contusion can cause vascular issues. Better let me run my expert eyes over it, just to be sure.”

I blink. “Are you serious?”

“As a heart attack. Come here.”

He puts his beer down on the coffee table as I push up out of the couch. When I stand in front of him, he lifts up my T-shirt and examines the dark purple crescent that peeks over the edge of my low-rise jeans.

He looks up at me, and just having him this close makes me dizzy. “Can I see the rest?” His voice is dark, and way too sexy.

“Do you really need to?” I know my limits, and every one of them is fast approaching.

“I’d like to. Just to check it. I still feel responsible for you getting hurt.”

I bite the inside of my cheek as I release the button on my jeans and pull down the zipper. Everything feels very heavy. Liam is watching my hands, and I focus on his lashes as he blinks slowly.

I push the side of my jeans down, revealing the full extent of the bruise, along with the strap of my black thong.

Liam exhales and just stares for a few seconds. I see his Adam’s apple bob twice before he speaks. “Well, yeah. Medically speaking, that’s one hell of a bruise.”

The skin is dark purple with angry yellow highlights over my hip bone. He grazes his fingers over it, and I have to close my eyes and clench my teeth to stop myself from making a very aroused sound.

“It’s warm. Does the joint hurt?”

Nothing hurts right now. “No. Just my thigh muscle.”

“Uh-huh.” I open my eyes. He moves his thumb down to the top of my thigh. “Here?”

He presses gently, and I suck in a breath. “Yes.” The pain isn’t severe, but coupled with how light-headed he’s making me, I have to put my hands on his shoulders to keep my balance.

He grips my hips to help steady me. “Sorry. You okay?”

“Yeah. Fine.”

Except I’m not fine. He’s looking up at me with a sense of need that threatens to ruin me, and his hands are warm and firm, and I want to feel more of them. I want him to push my jeans down and rip off my panties, and put that magic mouth of his right where I’m aching most. I want him to realize he made a mistake by leaving me, and dump his amazing fiancée, and break his fans’ hearts just to satisfy my selfish craving. And I hate myself for wanting all of those things because any one of them would hurt a lot of people, and part of me is absolutely okay with that.

“Liss.” He’s gazing at me, eyes blazing, jaw tight. I become aware of his hands, gripping and releasing my hips in an erratic rhythm. Everywhere he’s touching me sparks and warms. “You can’t look at me like that and expect me to respect our friends pact. You really can’t.”

My breath catches. “How am I looking at you?”

“Like you want to straddle my face.” My fingers dig into his shoulders, and he hisses. “You need to stop, or I swear to God, I’m about three seconds away from making it happen.” He squeezes his eyes shut. “I vowed I’d keep my cool around you, but every time you’re close, that becomes more and more impossible.”

Without thinking, I stroke the hair away from his face. “Liam . . .”

He sighs and leans into my touch. “You can’t say my name like that.” He drops his head. “Seriously. I’m hanging on by a thread here.” My stomach flips when he pulls me forward between his legs so that his forehead is resting on my stomach. His warm breath makes me shiver, and when he wraps his arms around me, I can’t stop myself from hugging him back.

“I’ve missed you, Liss. It hurt not seeing you for all of those years, but this? You being right here and me not being able to have you? Hurts so much more.”

He pushes his hands under my T-shirt and grips my back, fingers splayed. Like he’s sure I’ll disappear if he’s not touching my skin.