To Have It All(79)

“This is going to take all night,” I warned her before nipping at her soft lobe. “I’m going to touch every inch of you.”

“Wait,” she moaned as she spun around pressing her hands to my chest. My stomach flipped. She didn’t want to do this. She’d changed her mind.

“Shit,” I breathed. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t ha—”

“Liam,” she interrupted. “I just want to do something first.”

“Birth control?” I questioned. It seemed the most pertinent topic.

“No.” she shook her head. “I found condoms, they’re on the couch, but thank you for asking. It’s something else.”

“Then what? What do you want to do?”

Biting her lower lip, she lowered her head slightly. I’d have given anything to see her eyes, to read them, to have some indication as to what she was thinking. “Show me all of your tattoos.”

I stared at her blankly. “You want to see the pictures again?”

“No,” she shook her head as her mouth quirked up slightly. “Use my hand. Describe them, show me where they are. Your scars and your birthmarks too. Show me everything.”

Something inside of me ached, a divine excruciating ache. I loved her. I knew it then, without a doubt, because only love could hurt and heal all at once.

Lowering my head, I kissed her. “As you wish.”





Taking my hand, he gently bent a few of my fingers down, so only two were extended. Touching them to his chest he moved them as he spoke, describing each tattoo. He took his time as he moved my hand over his body from his chest, down his arms, to his stomach to his back. And when he finished he clasped my hand in his and kissed each one of my knuckles.

I ached . . . everywhere. I’d never, in all my days, wanted a man as badly as I wanted him. Even blindfolded, one of my senses completely hindered, I yearned for him.

Raising my arms, he placed them on his shoulders and around his neck. “What are you doing?”

He didn’t answer. Skating his hands down my sides sending a shiver through me, he placed them on my waist and pressed his cheek to mine as our bodies pressed together. Then, slowly, he moved us.

He was dancing with me.

There was no music, and I couldn’t see a thing, but it was more because I felt it. I felt his breath on my shoulder, his heart pounding in his chest against mine, his skin against my skin. I felt the way he moved me. My body followed his lead without question or hesitation, as if it knew to trust him. How far I had come. Days before I was convinced I’d never feel this way for anyone. I had lost faith and hope that someone would come along and earn my trust this way. I’d grown in the years since Max left me, and in many ways, I was stronger than ever.

As we swayed in the quiet, I thought of what Liam said earlier when he was teaching me to drive the bike. How he spoke about trusting yourself enough to make the powerful machine move—how it was like a dance; the give and take. Was this so different?

Pulling his head back, he raised my chin and kissed me.

Then, as one soft kiss led to a fevered one, our hands dug into flesh, and our breaths turned to pants and moans, we moved into a different kind of dance.

A beautiful dance of twisted bodies.

The most sacred dance of all.





It was barely eight in the morning as Pimberly sat next to me, her head leaning against my arm as she drank milk from her sippy cup. She’d slept later than usual. I’d put Waverly to bed not long before, but I couldn’t sleep. I was too wired. Still, I liked this. This was time for just Pim and me to hang. As we sat in silence and Pim struggled to emerge from her morning haze, my mind drifted somewhere else.

The night before, which had seeped into the wee hours of the morning, had been the best night of my life. Images of Waverly, naked, her mouth parted as she gasped and moaned with pleasure, her fingers threaded in my hair, her body arched on the couch with the city lights enhancing every soft curve of her body were imprinted, a reel that ran on repeat over and over in my head. We bit and clawed and sucked every inch of each other before we’d ended up on the couch, her straddling me as she sheathed me inside of her.

It was the most intense feeling I’d ever experienced. It was the perfect storm of bodies’ cravings, souls’ needs, and hearts’ wants joining. When I’d felt the deepest part of her, I’d sat straight up and held her, holding her in place as I pressed my forehead between her breasts. She wrapped her arms around my head and held me as she relaxed down on me, understanding I needed her to be still for a moment; I needed this feeling to stay with me for as long as possible. When I could move again, I kissed my way to her breast and flicked my tongue against her pert bud. Dropping her head back, she whimpered before bringing it back to rest her forehead against mine.

“You feel so good, Liam” she’d whispered. “I don’t ever want this to end.”

Her saying my name with lust was brutal and incredible all at once. I’d have given anything to tear the mask from her face and look into her eyes, but I knew as badly as I wanted to see her, she wouldn’t see me. It was how it would have to be. If I couldn’t have her sight, I’d devour all of her other senses in every way I could so she would feel me. It may not have been my body, but it was me; my heart, my soul, my love . . . me.