Liam's grip tightened around my waist, pulling me into a firm embrace. His scent—rich, warm, familiar—wrapped around me like a protective shield. "I'm sorry you've been placed in this situation," he murmured against my hair.
"Please don't apologize!" I stepped back, my voice sharper than I intended. "She hit you, Liam, and I won't stand by while anyone disrespects you like that."
His gaze softened, and for a moment, something unspoken passed between us. Then, without warning, he leaned in—his fingers brushing against my cheek, his lips finding mine in a slow, delicate kiss. It was meant to be brief, but the heat between us crackled like fire, and I melted into him, answering his kiss with equal intensity.
A deliberate throat-clearing shattered the moment.
We pulled apart just as Sinister's cold, piercing stare burned through us. His jaw was tight, his fingers curled into fists at his sides. "May I speak with you, Liam?" he asked, his voice edged with controlled fury.
Liam hesitated for half a second before nodding. "Go freshen up. I won't take long," he told me, pressing a reassuring hand to my back before following Sinister.
I watched them disappear into the crowd before making my way to the restroom, but I barely made it a few steps before I overheard Sinister's voice—low and lethal.
"You've gone too far, Liam. You know I'd crush you if this weren't a family party. This is your only warning. Stay away from her."
Liam scoffed. "What are you talking about? Grace is single. Who are you to give warnings? You had her—and then you went and paraded Veronica around like she was nothing."
"I'm not playing, Liam." Sinister's voice rose, sharp as a blade. A few heads turned, sensing the tension.
Before Liam could respond, an imposing figure stepped forward—Sinister's father. His presence alone commanded silence. "Is everything all right?" he asked, his voice calm but firm. Sinister's jaw twitched before his father leaned in, whispering something in his ear. Without another word, Sinister turned on his heel and disappeared into the shadows with his father trailing behind him.
Liam returned to me, his face unreadable. "Let's get out of here," he said, taking my hand in his.
We left the party behind, driving in silence until we reached my house. The car idled on the quiet street, neither of us ready to say goodbye just yet. The night felt heavy with unfinished words, unspoken feelings.
"I crossed the line with that kiss, Liam." I exhaled slowly, trying to steady my racing thoughts. "It's not weird—I mean, I see you as a friend. But the kiss was…" I trailed off, not wanting to be the only one who felt something. I should have kept my mouth shut.
Liam leaned in, his eyes locked on mine, a teasing smirk playing on his lips. "Amazing?"
A deep warmth spread across my cheeks. He was too close, too confident, too… Liam.
"Yeah," I admitted, my voice barely above a whisper. "It's complicated, but I liked it." I hesitated before adding, "But you already know how I feel about Sin."
"So, it wasn't just an act? You actually kissed me back?" His gaze flickered down to my lips, his teeth grazing his lower lip in thought.
"No, it wasn't," I answered truthfully, unable to deny it.
His smirk widened. "Then how about we try it again? Just to see how it feels."
He was slick. Smooth. Dangerous in a way that wasn't threatening, but thrilling.
"Wouldn't that make things weird between us?" I asked, my stomach twisting in uncertainty.
"Only if you let it," he murmured, inching even closer.
"What exactly are you suggesting?" I swallowed hard, my heart pounding as I realized where this was going.
Liam didn't answer with words. Instead, he leaned in and kissed me—slow, deliberate, and firm. A shiver ran down my spine, and before I could stop myself, I was kissing him back.
I wasn't in love with Liam. I knew that much. But the tension between us was impossible to ignore.
"See?" he whispered against my lips. "We're still friends. And it'll drive Sinister crazy."
A sharp pang of satisfaction twisted in my chest. Sinister had played with my heart for too long. Maybe it was time he felt the same pain. If Liam was fine with being used, and I was fine using him, then why not?
Maybe, for once, it was my turn to play the game.
"What do you get from this?" I asked, my voice laced with curiosity.
Liam's gaze darkened with something unreadable, his lips curling into a slow smirk. "All I want is to hurt him for breaking your heart," he said, his voice steady, almost like a promise.
I studied him for a moment, my pulse quickening. Maybe this was reckless. Maybe it was exactly what I needed.
"So," I murmured, tilting my head, "let's go upstairs and put this to the test. Benefit friendship, right?"
Liam's eyes flickered with something wicked. He didn't hesitate.
I bit my lower lip, feeling the heat rise in my cheeks. Good thing I wore a matching bra and panties tonight.
Without another word, we made our way to my apartment.
Liam locked the door with a soft click, his gaze dark and unrelenting as it roamed over me. "Stop," he commanded, his voice low, firm.
I froze, breath hitching, the power in his words sending a shiver down my spine. He stepped behind me, so close that his warmth pressed against my skin without a single touch. His fingers ghosted over my shoulder, slipping beneath the delicate straps of my dress. Slowly, deliberately, he pushed them down, baring my skin inch by inch.
I held the fabric against me, instinctively resisting. He chuckled—a deep, sinful sound that made my stomach tighten. "You won't need this," he murmured, his fingers trailing down my arms as he peeled them away, letting the dress slip.
It caught at my hips, refusing to fall completely, and his breath hitched. His hands followed the curve of my body before he dropped to his knees, his face level with the red lace barely concealing me. His fingertips brushed my thighs, teasing, testing, before his lips found my skin—soft, lingering kisses against my hip, my waist, my stomach.
The heat between us was intoxicating. When he lifted me effortlessly and laid me against the bed, I felt weightless beneath him. I reached for his tie, tugging him closer, our mouths colliding in a kiss that was no longer soft but desperate, urgent. I fumbled with the buttons of his shirt, nails grazing his toned stomach as I reached for his belt.
But just as he leaned in, his body pressing against mine, a sudden knock echoed through the room.
We both went still.
Liam exhaled sharply, his forehead resting against mine for a fleeting second before pulling back, his jaw tight with frustration.
Someone was at the door.
I thought it was my mom at first. My heart pounded as I scrambled for the sheets, but then the knocking turned into a heavy, urgent bang—loud enough to rattle the door.
Liam was out of bed in an instant, fastening his belt haphazardly as he strode toward the door. He hesitated only for a second before yanking it open.
And then he froze.
Bare-chested, breath still uneven, he stood there, rigid, staring at whoever was on the other side. He didn't speak. Didn't move.
The silence stretched, thick and suffocating. My pulse raced as I gripped the sheets tighter.
"Liam?" I called hesitantly. "Who is it?"
No answer.
A cold, creeping unease coiled in my stomach. Something was wrong.
And then—just before I could move—Liam staggered back, his knuckles turning white at his sides.
Whoever was at the door wasn't just here to talk.