Page 73 of Stolen Rebel

When he withdraws, my heart flexes. “Liam…”

His name is a whisper. It’s on the tip of my tongue to tell him I can’t keep fighting the feelings I’ve harbored for years, but if I do, it could ruin both of us. It’s probably for the best. Nothing good can come from kissing him. Yet, my lips are swollen and tingling, my heart’s racing, and my skin feels like he injected me with pure energy.

I bite my tongue to stop myself from saying something stupid. Like I never stopped loving him. To tell him about the letters I wrote because they helped me feel closer to him, even when we were further apart than ever. And no good could come from that.

He caresses my cheek with his palm, a softness still in his eyes. “If I start,” he sweeps his lips against mine, “I’m not stopping.” It’s not a threat. It might even be a promise. His chest rises and falls, as breathless as me. He brushes his thumb across my bottom lip then glares at his phone like he wants to pitch it through the nearest window.

The ache between my legs throbs so hard I have to fight not to squeeze my thighs together.

He answers the call without stepping away. “Yeah?” His voice is rough, and his lips look as swollen as mine feel.

His free hand settles on my hip, his thumb brushing firm circles on the sliver of skin he found by ducking his hand under my shirt.

My breath catches as he looks at me—heat flaring in his eyes—like he’s completely in control of both situations at once. His hand moves lower, sending goosebumps spreading across my whole body. Is he really going to—my hands fly to my mouth to strangle the moan that slips out when his fingers sink into my pussy.

He cants his head, raising his brows in question.

I answer by spreading my legs wider for him, lifting my hips off the couch and sliding my pajama bottoms down a bit to give him some room. He jams the phone between his ear and shoulder and uses both hands to strip my bottom half bare in a skilled, swift motion. Give Liam Mahoney an inch, he’ll take yer knickers.

He pauses again, grunting at the person he’s talking to before nudging my thighs apart and just… staring. He drops to his knees between my parted legs and runs his nose up the inside of my thigh, painfully slowly like he’s trying to make a decision.

A second later, he turns on speakerphone and tosses the phone onto the sofa. The voice on the other end fills the room. Patrick.

“Look, brother, you’ve either got updates, or you’ve got problems. Which is it?” There’s an edge to his voice that, coupled with the bulge in his groin, tells me his cock’s pressing against his jeans, and he’s being driven as mad as I am.

I expect him to finger me, to drive me into a frenzy while he talks on the phone with his brother. What I don’t expect is for him to put a finger to his mouth telling me to be quiet before he buries his whole face between my legs.

How the fuck am I supposed to be quiet when he’s trying to suck my soul out of my clit?

Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, he’s like a man possessed.

My pulse stutters, my skin heats, and any rational thought in my brain leaks out as my body takes full control of the situation. My fingers tangle their way into his hair, my hips bucking toward his hungry tongue as my pussy rides his face.

When he pulls back, I groan. My gaze snaps to his, my arousal glistening on his face as he glares at the phone on the sofa next to me. “We’re still tracking leads,” Liam says, evenly, working my clit with his fingers.

I don’t hear what Patrick says in response because Liam’s tongue is back lapping at my clit. Fucking hell. I’m panting, shallow, loud breaths sawing in and out of my body, but when he bites down on my clit on a grunt, presumably in answer to something Patrick says, I have to bite my fist to stop myself from screaming his name.

He doesn’t stop. My head tips back against the sofa, eyes rolling in bliss as he sends me higher and higher with his mouth. He alternates back and forth between his tongue and fingers for what has to be a few minutes. My body bucks and bows off the sofa, sweat beads across my forehead, and when his head’s between my legs, my nails bite into his scalp.

Turns out, he’s the one who can’t stay quiet.

“The fuck are you doing?” Patrick demands down the line, but he’s too late, the blissful bomb has detonated inside me, setting off a chain reaction of light and colors as I come all over his brother’s face.

“Liam? Where’d you go?”

I can’t hold back the noises bubbling up inside me. They come out gurgled and muted, but they still come out. When Liam’s hand slides to my throat and flexes, reminding me that he told me to be quiet, and he slides three of his fingers into my mouth to shut me up while my orgasm rolls through every cell in my body. I sink deeper into the stars blurring my vision and my bones melting.

Not a man to be rushed, Liam takes his time dragging me through my release. When he sits back on his heels, he looks like he’s back in control of himself. His shoulders are relaxed, he’s got a lazy smirk on his face, and his eyes tell me he’s won some kind of inner battle to control both me and the situation we’re in.

“You’re fucking feral,” Patrick says.

Oops. That means he knows exactly what Liam was doing.

“You have five minutes,” he snaps before the line cuts.

The silence that follows is thick. Heavy. I’m dizzy from the orgasm that raked through my body like a supernatural event and flush with embarrassment that his brother heard every damn thing. Liam doesn’t move immediately. He doesn’t speak, but his chest rises and falls in a heavy motion that mirrors my own.

His gaze drags over me like he’s cataloging every single reaction, every crack he just forced into me. From my sweat-slicked hair sticking to my forehead to my still-shaking thighs he sees it all.