Total pages in book: 92
Estimated words: 90211 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 451(@200wpm)___ 361(@250wpm)___ 301(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 90211 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 451(@200wpm)___ 361(@250wpm)___ 301(@300wpm)
Getting it right. Acting proper. Making my family proud of my choices.
Liam’s the opposite of all that. Drinking with him, showering in his apartment, letting him clean my clothes, and committing arson are all things I should avoid.
But now that I’m alone and I have a few minutes to think, I keep circling back to him.
Back to Liam and how he keeps making me feel.
Despite everything, I wouldn’t take it back.
Even though I’m still in deep shit.
Because when Liam handed me that lighter and I tossed the spark into the car and I watched Kieren’s BMW explode, I felt more alive, more excited, happier, freer, than I’ve ever felt in my life.
It’s an extremely disorienting feeling. I’m not supposed to like that stuff. Breaking the rules has always been a massive trigger. I stay safe, sane, and centered by walking the straight and narrow.
Liam’s shorts barely stay on my hips. I have to cinch and tie them tight. The sweatshirt is hilariously massive, almost like a dress. I check myself in the mirror, dab at my face, at my lips and eyes. I look tired and stressed, and I wonder what Liam’s going to think.
But why the hell do I care about that?
He’s sitting in the living room. The washer’s making soft mechanical whirrs as the water sloshes in its guts. I feel light and hazy from the whisky. Liam’s still drinking, but now he’s wearing black joggers and a soft gray shirt hoodie.
“Let me ask you something.” He doesn’t glance over, his eyes still locked on the city. “You ever break a law before?”
I snort quietly and sit down on the couch next to him. “Never. Not once.”
“Did you like it?”
“Honestly? Yeah, a little bit.”
“Feels good, right?” He looks at me, face utterly serious. “When you do something you know is wrong, but you choose it anyway, mostly just because you can. When you don’t care what anyone thinks.”
“Is that how you live?”
“It’s how I try to at least.”
“Well, that isn’t me.”
“Yeah, figured.” He looks away again. I watch his lips as he drinks and feel my mouth watering.
“What’s that mean?”
“You got that—“ He waves a hand as if conjuring the word. “You know. That aura."
“I don’t know, actually.”
“You’re uptight.”
I suck in a breath. “What the hell? Why are you randomly insulting me?”
“I’m not, love, I’m really not. I apologize, I know how it’s coming off. I just meant to say, you had a nice time tonight, didn’t you? I watched you spray painting that car and I swear, I’ve never seen a woman more alive and more beautiful than you were right then. And when you tossed the lighter?” He gives a slow shake of his head, eyes burning with pure, unabashed desire. “Divine. Absolutely fucking divine.”
I shift uncomfortably, heart pattering hard as I tuck my legs underneath me. “I always look that way. You actually caught me on a bad night.”
He doesn’t laugh at my deflecting joke. “It was a risk bringing you back here. Probably a stupid one, but I couldn’t leave you behind. If your father knew his precious girl was in my apartment—“
“Why are you bringing my father into this?”
“Because of who he is and who I am.” There’s an edge in Liam’s voice now.
“Are you asking me not to say anything?”
“I wouldn’t do that. But I am saying that I’m glad you followed me home.”
“I didn’t have much of a choice.”
“Ah, see, that’s where you’re wrong. There’s always a choice.” His smile returns, edged and brutal. “Though I admit, I can be very persuasive.”
We sit in silence for several seconds. He’s very close to me, his body lean and lithe, muscular and obscenely handsome. I feel the attraction between us pulsing rapidly. He’s bad in so many ways, bad for me and likely bad for the whole world, a man who ruins for fun and burns cars for strange girls. I should want to put as much distance between us as possible.
But I don’t.
He stands, like he’s fighting back an idea. “I should let you get some rest,” he says and drifts away. I struggle not to ask him to sit back down.
“You’re going to bed?” He has to hear my disappointment.
“I’ll move your laundry over first. Goodnight, Regan. I’ll see you in the morning.”
“Maybe,” I say as he walks to the side hall leading to his bedroom. “Or maybe I’ll sneak out in the middle of the night.”
He glances back at me. His mischievous smile is back. “I doubt you have that in you, love.”
I can’t sleep.
At least the couch is comfortable. He gave me a very fancy cashmere blanket that looks brand new and disappeared back to his bedroom without much conversation. Now it’s past midnight and moonlight filters in through the massive city windows. I keep looking out toward the nearby buildings. What did he see when he gazed out there? Was he thinking about how small everything makes him feel? Or does he think he’s a king looking down at his subjects?