Page 52 of A Simple Reminder
Liam's driving me to the edge; so much that I almost want to scream or tear at my hair out of sheer exasperation—or maybe,I admit in the quiet, shameful corners of my mind, it’s the raw, unfiltered desire coiling low in my stomach causing this. Our chests are moving at the same pace, and I just snap.
“Oh, just shut up,” I manage to choke out, the words barely a whisper before my lips crash against his in a reckless surge of pent-up longing and years of unresolved 'what-ifs.'
His lips are just as warm and inviting as I remember, and when his hand cradles my cheek, I almost cry at the sheer pain of the memories.
What the hell are we doing?
I pull away abruptly, putting space between us, gasping for air as if I’ve been submerged underwater. My chest rises and falls, my spiraling mind racing to catch up.
“I shouldn’t have done that,” I whisper as my fingers touch my lips, tracing the tingling sensation his touch left behind. My voice is almost drowned out by the pounding drumbeat of my heart.
Liam’s eyes are feral, the dark depths burn with unrelenting hunger, stripping me bare in ways that words never could. “No, we shouldn’t have,” he agrees, his voice low and husky. His admission stings a little, but there’s no time to dwell on it. Without waiting for my barriers to rebuild, he closes the distance I had so desperately put between us, his intention clear. “And I shouldn’t do this either.”
He grabs my face and slams his lips onto mince once again. This time, there's no restraint. Our lips move in a heated frenzy, the kiss deepening as we lose ourselves in each other. The word fades away, the only thing anchoring me to this moment is him–his lips, his hands, his touch, as if nothing else exists.
His tongue finds its way to mine, and I melt into him. My hands clutch at his shoulders, nails digging in as the fire of desire burns through my veins like wildfire. His hands find my waist, pulling me closer, his touch insistent, almost as if he's trying to fuse us together. It’s desperate, almost frantic, like he’s afraid of letting go. I am too.
Just when I think the intensity can’t escalate further, Liam lifts me effortlessly without breaking the kiss. My legs instinctively wrap around his waist, my heels falling away as I kick them off, leaving only the sensation of his strong grip and the heat between us. His hands grip my thighs, pulling me tighter against him, and every nerve in my body lights up with the raw pull of his nearness. “Much better,” he murmurs against my lips, his voice a dangerous mix of satisfaction and promises, sending shivers down my spine. The world tilts, spins, and does somersaults around us; the only reality that matters is the scorching connection blazing between us.
My hands grip his shirt tightly, anchoring myself to him as heat floods my chest and spreads through my entire body. I gasp against his mouth, the words tumbling out before I can stop them, “I hate that I can’t stop myself from wanting this.”
His lips still for a moment, just enough to make my heart lurch, before his grip tightens on my waist, pulling me even closer. “Then don’t,” he whispers, his voice rough with emotion as his mouth claims mine again, making the world disappear all over again.
Each touch of his fingertips sears through my clothes, branding my skin with a heat that’s almost unbearable. He presses me against the nearest wall, while his mouth keeps exploring, claiming, as if he could conquer every part of me with just this kiss.
He presses his firm body against mine, leaving no room for any kind of space. I echo each heaving breath between us when our lips part for mere seconds, before crashing together again. The world outside this heated bubble of desire fades, irrelevant to the urgency that drives our movements. Whatever happened before does not exist at this moment.
His fingers slide into my hair, tugging gently at the roots, angling my head back to deepen the kiss. I gasp into his mouth, and he takes advantage, his tongue sweeping in to dance with mine in a rhythm that's both wild and perfectly synchronized. My hands roam over his back, feeling the powerful muscles flex beneath his shirt, pulling him even closer if that’s even possible. But somehow, I need him closer as if closing the distance between us could soothe the ache that’s been building inside me for years.
Liam’s other hand wanders down my back, settling on the small of my back before slipping lower to cup my ass, lifting me slightly. The change in angle makes my center brush against his rock-hard cock, and a moan escapes me, swallowed by his hungry mouth.
I’m lost in sensory overload, the taste of him. Liam pulls back just enough to look into my eyes, his gaze intense and unreadable for a moment.
“Sophie,” he breathes out, his voice rough with want. “Tell me to stop, and I will. Right now, tell me, or?—”
I cut him off, pulling his head down to mine, silencing any doubts with a kiss laced with all the passion and need spiraling inside me. “Don’t you dare stop,” I whisper against his lips, sealing my words with another kiss that promises there are no boundaries left between us tonight. If he stops, even for a minute, the weight of reality will crash back down on me. Right now, I can't bear the thought of stepping back into the role of being just his employee, responsible and restrained. Tonight, I don't want to think about past promises or future consequences. I just want to feel everything he makes me feel.
“For tonight, let’s forget everything. Just tonight,” I whisper, my voice trembling with a mix of need and desperation. Because that’s what I am this second. Needy and desperate for his touch.
He groans, his grip tightening as he shifts us, moving away from the wall without breaking our connection. Each step he takes is measured, deliberate, as he carries me toward what I can only assume is the bedroom.
He gently sets me down on the bed, his movements smooth yet charged with urgency. He stands for a moment, his hands moving to his white T-shirt which he peels off with a swift, fluid motion. As the fabric falls away, I catch my breath, taking in the sight of him. My eyes trail over the sharp lines of his chest, the ridges of his abs, and the way his skin glows under the dim light, every inch of him a testament to strength and control. He’s like a living sculpture, his body exuding power. I remember him from ten years ago—lean and strong, but now he's transformed, more defined and imposing. His muscles are harder, his frame larger, each movement rippling. It’s impossible to look away, my breath hitching as the sheer presence of him seems to fill the room, leaving no space for doubt or hesitation. I almost drool at the view. I catch myself blinking rapidly, as if trying to memorize every detail, my cheeks burning at the thought of how ridiculous I must look.
Back then, he had a few tattoos on his arms and chest. Now, he's a canvas of intricate ink, with nearly every inch of his arms, torso, and neck etched with patterns and symbols that tell stories I long to read. Each line and curve seems deliberate, as if every stroke of ink carries a piece of his past, his pain, and his strength—a history etched onto his skin. He's not just stunning; he’s breathtakingly beautiful.
I lick my lips unconsciously, and he catches it, his smile deepening with the knowledge of his effect on me. The way he looks at me—like he knows exactly what I’m thinking, exactly what I want—thrills me to my core, making it hard to think straight.
Liam doesn’t pause. He moves toward the bed, his presence commanding as he leans over me, his hand tracing a line from my stomach to my neck. His lips follow, pressing soft, deliberate kisses that ignite a trail of fire. Each kiss linger, leaving a phantom heat that spreads through me. When he reaches my neck, he pauses, his breath warm against my pulse point, sending a shiver down my spine before he kisses my flower tattoo behind my ear, igniting a trail of goosebumps in its wake. It’s as though he’s rediscovering me, piece by piece, and my body responds to his touch like it remembers, even after all these years. His lips find mine again in a kiss that’s both a continuation and a new beginning.
“I’ve missed this. I’ve missed you,” he murmurs between kisses.
“Me too,” I whisper back before I can stop myself. The words hang between us, and I feel their weight immediately. It’s like they’ve taken a life of their own, echoing in the silence between kisses, too honest to take back. I shouldn’t have said it—I know it’ll only make this harder, make it impossible to pretend this is just a fleeting moment. But I’m selfish enough to let it linger. To let him believe it, because right now, I need him. I need this. One more time. One last time. I can’t erase the years or pretend nothing’s changed, but for once, I let myself let go. For once, I choose to drown in the moment.
“Turn around.” Liam's voice is a soft command. I obey, lying on my stomach. I feel the touch of his fingers at the zipper of my dress, pulling it down slowly, purposely. Then he signals for me to turn back toward him, to sit up. As I do, he gently slides the straps of my dress down my shoulders, his tattooed hands tracing a path along my skin as he undresses me. The fabric falls away, exposing my bare chest to the cool air of the room. He pauses, his gaze lingering, appreciative. “You’re a vision,” he murmurs, his voice thick with desire, before lowering his lips to my skin. His breath is warm against my breast, heightening the sensation as he captures my nipple. I almost scream out loud. That’s how touch-deprived I’ve been for the last year.
He kisses along my collarbone, each touch sparking a trail of heat that spirals down my spine. His movements are unhurried, as if every second counts, every touch meant to convey more than words could. But I need more, I need him.
I reach for him, fumbling with the button of his jeans. “I need more.” I breathe out, my voice thick with want.
