He presses a finger to my lips. “What I want is for you to do as I say.” His command sends a shiver through me, and I surrender without protest, sinking into the mattress.

“Now what?” I whisper, my knees trembling between us.

“Spread your legs.” He nods toward me, and I part my thighs, baring the apex of my glistening sex.

His pupils darken. “You’re drenched.”

“It’s your doing,” I breathe, swallowing the guilt.

“I know. But seeing you like this…” He grips my ass, dragging me to the edge of the bed, and then sinks to his knees. “It makes me want to drown in you.”

His exhales tease my center, making me throb, and I count the staccato beats as I wait for the molten brush of his mouth. I’m so wound up, all trembling limbs and fluttering pulses, that I bite my lip to keep from begging.

Anticipation coils tighter, every second a razor’s edge.

Liam drapes my legs over his shoulders before dragging his tongue over my clit, circling with slow, torturous pressure.

A cry rips free, pulled from the depths of my being.

“God, the taste of you,” he groans before delving into my slick entrance. “I could eat you out for the rest of my life.”

The rest of my life…

A life that was supposed to be spent with Sebastian. I go still, fighting to keep the pain at bay, determined to moor it for the night.

Just one night.

But the ache in my chest won’t be ignored. It builds in tandem with the pace of Liam’s tongue, splitting me in two until I want to gasp and cry, scream and moan.

I clutch his head, desperate for him to stop.

Desperate for him to never stop.

His mouth stalls against me for a moment, then he lifts his head, dark eyes unreadable in the low light. “You’re holding back,” he says, calling out my internal struggle as he pushes a finger inside me. “I want every sigh and whimper, Novalee. Every single one.”

“Liam…” His name breaks on a lust-filled whine.

“That’s it, my sweet girl. Your pussy’s leaking all over me.” He adds another digit and pumps in and out, stroking that magical spot that sends my mind reeling. With each slippery plunge, I stretch a little more.

“Oh God,” I moan, still not ready to give in. My cries launch from deep in my throat, but still, I hang on, trapped in self-denial.

“Give it to me.” His growling demand vibrates against my clit. “Come all over my face.”

Whatever he does next is pure sorcery, because I can’t think or form words. Of their own accord, my hands fall to the bed, and I fist his royal blue comforter.

Air locks in my lungs.

Fire bursts to life on my skin.

And the earth?