With another deep, throaty groan, he claimed my mouth. I melted against him, trusting him to hold me up. One of his hands curved around my neck to position me where he wanted, and the other skimmed down my side and rubbed over the mound of my sex. He slipped two fingers between my thighs and stroked.

“Oh!” My hips gave a stuttering thrust. It had been so long since someone touched me like this, and I was sensitive.

“You like that?” he murmured against my ear. His warm breath sent shivers cascading over my skin.

“Yes,” I whimpered. “More, please.”

He nuzzled the side of my face and slicked his fingers through my folds, over the bundle of nerves at the top, until I was quivering, begging, and more turned on than I could remember being in, oh, say, eleven years or so.

“I need you,” I told him.

“You have me, sweetheart.”

One of his fingers probed my entrance and pushed inside. I gasped as he crooked the finger and stroked the inside of my channel. His palm clasped tight to my body, the pressure was absolutely delicious as I rubbed against him shamelessly.

“Just like that,” he urged. “You feel so good, and you’re moving so sweetly for me.”

Oh my God. He knew just what to say and how to touch me to drive me out of my mind.

“Please,” I begged.

His mouth settled over mine in a messy, heated kiss. “What do you want?”

“You inside me. Over me. All around me.”

“Yeah?”

“Like, right now.”

He gave a strained laugh. “I think we’d better take this to the bedroom.” He stiffened. “Do you have condoms?”

“In the nightstand,” I admitted. “I wanted to be ready, just in case.”

He brushed a tender kiss over my temple, his lips moving against my skin as he murmured, “Being prepared is sexy as fuck.”

I reached for the shower knob and shut the water off. We spilled out of the cubicle, each grabbing a fluffy towel but not pausing to dry ourselves properly as we ran, giggling, to the bedroom. My heart was light. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d felt so giddy and completely present in the moment.

I dragged the towel over my body while Liam rummaged in my nightstand and victoriously held up a condom. He tore the foil wrapper, rolled it on, and stalked toward me. I ran my hands over his muscular chest and around his shoulders, loving his strength. The tattoos weren’t bad to look at either. I didn’t get the chance to explore more though because he guided me back onto the bed and lowered himself between my thighs.

“You want this?” he asked, his voice low. “There’s no going back.”

My gaze caught his, and the banked fire in his eyes fueled my own desperation. “Not want. Need.”