Page 90 of A Simple Reminder
I throw my hands up, unable to contain the anger bubbling inside me. “I don’t want to hear this, Liam.”
But he’s faster. His hand wraps around my arm, turning me back toward him with a firm grip. His eyes burn into mine, fierce, relentless, like he’s trying to sear the truth into me. “But none of them were you.”
I freeze. My defenses falter, the anger in my chest battling with the ache his confession stirs. I want to push him away, to tell him this changes nothing. But I can’t. Not when he’s looking at me like that—not when his words dig into the places I’ve tried so hard to protect.
He leans in, his voice low, simmering with brutal honesty. “Yeah, I was with them. I fucked them. That’s all it was. Empty. Physical.” He pauses, his breath catching, before his voice drops even lower, reverent and aching. “But being with you was different. It was real. Itisreal. We’re connected, in a way I can’t escape. In a way I don’t want to escape.”
What am I supposed to say? His words are like a hand closing around my heart, squeezing so tightly it feels impossible to breathe. My pulse thrums in my ears, loud and insistent, drowning out everything but his voice.
I look into his eyes—those dark, vulnerable eyes I’m not used to seeing like this. He’s pleading, his gaze searching mine, waiting for me to give him something back.
I clench my trembling hands into fists, trying to keep the chaos inside from spilling over. I want this more than anything. He’s just... Liam. Infuriating and overwhelming, but also the only person who’s ever made me feel like this, like I’m whole and breaking apart all at once.
My dad’s voice echoes in my mind:He’s good for you. Liam isn’t just good for me—he’s so much more than that. And I’ve been punishing both of us for years, keeping him at arm’s length, building walls I’ve been too afraid to tear down.
I can feel it now—the weight of my fear, the mistakes, the months of denial. It’s all crashing down on me, the truth impossible to ignore. I’ve been denying us both the chance to really try, to really be. I’ve been standing in the way.
I needed to hear those words—needed my dad’s blessing like a final, impossible key. Now, it’s as if the door I’ve been hammering on for years has finally swung open, flooding me with a freedom I didn’t know I was waiting for. The weight I’ve carried for so long feels lighter, my chest loosening, my walls cracking. But with that freedom comes something else—a flood of emotions I don’t quite know how to process.
I glance at Liam, his eyes searching mine with desperation, making my throat tighten. He’s waiting—waiting for me to give him something. And in this moment, I realize how much he’s been waiting all along. For years. For me.
“Please,” he whispers, his voice trembling ever so slightly, breaking through the silence between us. His vulnerability is palpable, his words cutting through the noise in my mind. “Tell me you feel this too. Tell me you still feel it.”
The look of him right now could unravel me completely. He’s honest, stripped bare, and so heartbreakingly beautiful that it pulls at something deep inside me. It’s like every barrier I’ve ever built is crumbling, torn apart by the sheer force of his honesty. Just by looking at him, I feel it—the truth I’ve been running from for so long.
And I do. I still feel it. I’ve fought it for months, told myself I couldn’t, that I shouldn’t, but it’s always been there, simmering beneath the surface, waiting for me to stop pretending.
The weight and the freedom to finally admit it steals my breath. Slowly, I reach up, my hand trembling as it finds his cheek. My fingertips brush against the warmth of his skin, and the simple touch feels monumental, like a bridge I’m finally willing to cross.
“I feel it,” I whisper, my voice unsteady, barely more than a breath. But it’s the truth—raw, undeniable, and for the first time, I let myself believe it.
A rough, shuddering sigh escapes him, his shoulders dropping as though he’s been carrying the weight of this moment for years. Relief floods his eyes as they search mine, and then, without another word, his lips find mine.
At first, the kiss is soft, searching, as though he’s testing the waters, afraid to push too far. His breath mingles with mine, each movement deliberate, like he’s memorizing the feel of me. It’s grounding, and I feel myself melting into him, my hand sliding to the back of his neck.
But within seconds, something shifts. A tension that’s been coiled tight for years snaps, breaking free, and the kiss deepens. There’s hunger now, a raw, unrestrained need that leaves me dizzy. His hands find my waist, pulling me closer, holding me like he’s afraid I’ll slip away. And I let him. I let myself fall, sinking into the moment, intohim.
My other hand flies to his cheek, pulling him closer. Every kiss, every movement feels charged, as if we’re making up for all the lost time, pouring everything unsaid, every unresolved feeling, into this moment. His hands slip to my waist, drawing me in tighter, and the last piece of the wall explodes, leaving only the two of us, bare and real.
This kiss isn’t like the others we shared. Those were desperate, fueled by need, sometimes even anger—a way to take and punish. But now, it’s different. There’s a deeper hunger, a shared urgency to hold on to something we’re both terrified to lose. We breathe each other in, lingering on every touch, every taste, as if we finally have all the time in the world. Each kiss is slow, intentional, as if we’re discovering each other all over again.
His fingers press into my waist, holding me close. Afraid that if he loosens his grip, this might slip away. And for once, I hold on just as tightly, letting myself fall without reservation.
The back of my legs hit the edge of the couch, and I fall back, breathless, only now realizing we’ve been moving. Liam towers over me, his bare chest rising and falling, his gaze locked onto mine. The way he looks at me—like I’m the only thing he’s ever wanted—sends a shiver down my spine and a rush of desire pooling low in my stomach. My heart races, each beat echoing in my ears, as my body hums to life under the weight of his stare.
A smile tugs at my lips, a quiet thrill of freedom sweeping over me. I’m wrapped in his T-shirt, his sweatpants hanging loosely on my hips, yet he looks at me as if I’m wearing the finest thing in the world.
He leans down, close enough for his breath to brush my cheek, his fingers tracing a line along my collarbone, slipping down my arm with a slow, maddening intensity. “I’ve waited too long for this,” he murmurs, his voice rough and deep, making my skin prickle with anticipation. “I’m going to show you how much I’ve missed you.”
His hand slides down along my thigh, fingers grazing over the fabric of his sweatpants on my skin, sending warmth radiating through me. He presses me back, his thumb lingering at the edge of the T-shirt. His mouth hovers just inches from mine and whispers, “I want every second of this. Every sound, every look—I want everything.”
He dips his head, his lips brushing a line along my neck, leaving a trail of warmth as his fingers travel over the fabric, guiding it up inch by inch, reverent and slow. He’s savoring each touch and moment as though he’s engraving this into memory, refusing to rush. His words spill into the air between us, each one wrapping around me, “You’re beautiful,” he breathes, his voice thick with reverence. “And I’m going to make sure you feel it.”
His words wrap around me, sinking deep into my chest, and scattering every thought. My breath catches as his fingers trace higher, the soft fabric of the T-shirt lifting under his careful touch. He’s savoring me, every movement is unhurried, like this moment is the only one that exists.
I arch slightly beneath him, his lips continuing their path along my neck, trailing fire with every touch.
His hands slip beneath the fabric, brushing against bare skin, his thumbs trailing along my waist. It’s slow and torturous, but in the best way. I close my eyes, overwhelmed by its intensity, my heart pounding so loudly I’m sure he can hear it.
