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The hero leaned in, cupping her face, his thumbs brushing her cheeks. Her breath came in short, choppy bursts, her chest heaving and her lips begging to be kissed.
“Be sure,” he whispered.
Just after he said it, she grabbed him and surged up, their lips—
“What the bloody hell are you reading?”
I jumped, my Kindle clattering out of my hands and onto the kitchen counter.
Right into the puddle of melted ice cream that had been dripping off my forgotten spoon.
My eyes narrowed in a glare. “Thanks.”
Liam picked up my Kindle by its corner, whistling at the mess of ice cream coating the case. “Look at that. It’severywhere.”
The page I’d been reading was still on the screen, and I leaned forward, trying to snatch the device out of his grip. Liam tugged it higher, turning it toward him.
I reached for it again, but Liam was too fast.
I went up on tiptoe, grabbing at his arm, which was as hard as a steel beam. Even when I tugged with all my strength, his arm didn’t budge. “This is gross abuse of your height, Davies.”
“This is what you’re reading every day, is it?” Liam peered at the screen. “His hands, big and rough and demanding, coasted over her ...”
Liam must have skimmed a few lines, because he stopped reading, brows raised. Then he handed my Kindle back, the slightest flush on his cheeks.
I clutched it to my chest. “Thank you.”
He gave a slight nod, then proceeded to tear off a few squares of paper towel, which he dampened under the water and handed to me.
As I cleaned off my case and the mess on the counter, I laughed under my breath. “You know it’s good when I waste my ice cream.” Digging my spoon into the bowl, I took a huge bite.
His eyes were heavy on me while I did. “That’s what Rosa and her little gang read at their book clubs?”
I nodded. “They told me the first time I came that if I wanted depressing literature, I should go elsewhere. Strictly the happily-ever-afters for that group. According to Martha, it’s because reality is sad enough and they need to get their rocks off where they can.”
Liam arched one eyebrow, the firm line of his mouth gentling slightly. “Makes sense.”
When my Kindle case was clean, I balled up the paper towel squares, tossing them in his direction when he motioned for them.
The garbage container was tucked away inside a built-in drawer next to the sink, and as Liam tugged it open, my eyes snagged on the flex of muscles in his forearms.
Strength was such a weird concept if you thought too hard about it. Underneath flimsy skin, so easily bruised and torn and cut, he heldan incredible amount of power. He could manhandle a man three times my size. Run down a receiver and knock him off his feet.
It was all too easy to imagine what he could do with someone my size.
“And you like it?” he asked.
My gaze shot up to his. “Like what?”
Liam gave me a strange look, and I wondered if my cheeks were bright red, because theyfeltbright red. “The books,” he said slowly.
“Oh. Yeah, they’re great.” I took another quick bite of ice cream, sucking the spoon clean. Liam’s attention stayed locked on my mouth as I did. “I, uh, didn’t read much romance until college. I was always more of a fantasy-slash-magical-powers-slash-riding-dragons kind of girl.”
He made a quiet noise in the back of his throat. “Let me guess—men in the books make men in reality look like a bunch of wankers.”
I laughed. “You have to admit, it doesn’t take much, considering some of our choices out there. With blinders on and stars in my eyes, I married a man who was more in love with his own reflection than anything else.” I shook my head. “The men in these books aren’t perfect, and I think that’s what makes the stories even better. Imperfect people still have to find a way to overcome their issues if they want to be happy. It’s as simple and as difficult as that. Reading their stories is the best way to have hope for our own, I guess.”
If I hadn’t been watching his face while I answered, I might have missed it. A flicker in his gaze, a shift in his frame.
