Only a Millionaire (The Sinclairs #6.5)(22)

My heart warmed at his words, and then it squeezed hard in my chest. Liam was so damn strong, but he still hurt for me. I could feel it.

“Amesport gave me an escape,” I shared. “So did you. I’ll always be grateful for that. I healed here. Maybe I’m not completely together, but I’m over the hard part, I think. And the reporters have been uninterested for the last month or two. The coast is clear at home.”

His face was grim. “Are you sure you’re over it?”

“I have nightmares occasionally, but I refuse to let a criminal change the way I live my life. I can’t see boogeymen where there are none. My friends wouldn’t have wanted that. They aren’t going to live their lives, so I feel like, in some way, I need to do it for them.”

“Do you want to go back to your job?” he asked in an unhappy voice.

I shook my head. “Not the bank. I can’t go back there. But I’d like to get back to my profession.”

I’d always known I could never return to the same bank. The sight of my friends, the blood, and the terror I’d felt that day would haunt me. But I missed working as a financial analyst.

“I should have known you were a financial wizard,” he rumbled. “God knows you proved it by working on my messed-up books and taxes.”

“That’s not exactly my specialty,” I said, wiping the tears off my face. “I just happen to like math and numbers.”

“Yeah. There’s something completely wrong about that,” he answered.

I shot him a weak smile. Liam might be an amazing businessman, but he wasn’t into the details. “I love running numbers. Math is so concrete. It either adds up . . . or it doesn’t. I’m not good with uncertainty,” I explained.

“I know why you didn’t tell me. But I can’t help but wish I would have known. I could have helped you. I could have been somebody you could talk to,” Liam said in a disgruntled voice.

“Friends?” I teased.

“If that’s what you wanted. I would have been whatever the hell you wanted me to be if it would have helped you get through the hard times.”

My eyes welled up again, but I blinked back the tears. Liam tugged at my heart with his willingness to be supportive. “We didn’t really know each other,” I reminded him. “And I’m not sure I would have been ready to talk about it.”

“I don’t know how to make this better,” he confessed, and then ran a frustrated hand through his hair.

“You don’t have to make it better,” I argued. My brothers had tried to make it better, too, and became discouraged when they couldn’t. I was guessing it was a guy thing. “It’s not possible. I just appreciate that you’re here for me now.”

“I’m not going anywhere, Brooke. I’ll be here for you whenever you need me.”

I sighed as I lay back against him. He reached out for my hand, and I gave it to him, resting my hand in his. “Life isn’t always what we wish it could be,” I commented, emotionally exhausted from telling Liam what had happened. It still wasn’t easy to talk about without experiencing flashbacks.

“I know,” he agreed. “But it’s what we make of the shit that gets thrown at us that matters.”

I sat up and reached for the glass of wine I’d left on the side table. I took a few swallows and then leaned back against Liam again.

Liam knew all about life challenges. He’d had plenty of his own. But I loved his attitude.

I took another sip of my Merlot.

“Better go easy on that,” he warned. “It usually makes you lose your panties.”

I laughed and set the glass back on the table. “Only once,” I told him. “And I wanted to lose all of my clothes and yours. But I wasn’t drunk that night. I just knew what I wanted.”

“Did you?” he asked huskily.

“Liam, I’d been lusting after you for close to a year. Of course I knew.”

Maybe wine did loosen me up a little, but I hadn’t gotten drunk since college.

“What did you want?”

“I wanted you.”

“You got me,” he stated drily. “But I definitely wasn’t in my best form.”

“Do you see me complaining?” I joked. “Felt pretty amazing to me.”

“Smartass,” he said in an amused tone.

“It was an incredible night for me, Liam,” I said in a more serious tone. Maybe he thought he’d gone too fast, but I never wanted him to regret what had happened. I knew I didn’t.

“For me, too,” he confessed. “I just wish my dick hadn’t been stronger than my brain. I wanted more than to just get laid.”

“What did you want?”

“I wanted this.” He squeezed my hand. “I wanted us.”

I understood. My need for Liam went a whole lot deeper than just the physical, although my body was aching for him.

“So you’re okay not having sex?” I asked curiously.

“Hell, no,” he complained. “I’m not okay, and I’ve had blue balls for the last week. But I should be used to that. I’ve wanted you from the day you walked into the restaurant. And it’s only gotten worse over time.”

I felt a rush of heat between my thighs as Liam readjusted himself on the couch.