I followed Liam back to the truck without a word, sliding into the passenger seat as he started the engine. He didn't even wait for Trevor and Greg. I knew we were leaving without them, and I also knew why. He Just started the engine and pulled onto the road, his grip on the wheel tight, his jaw locked.
I bit back a smirk. He was pissed.
Good.
The night air rushed in through the open window, cooling my skin as I leaned back, watching him from the corner of my eye. He hadn't said a word since he saw me back there, legs spread, lips parted -not in pleasure, but in control. And the best part? He knew exactly what I was doing.
I played him. Just like he accused me of before. Calculating, manipulative, always two steps ahead. He said it like it was a bad thing. But I never denied it.
Jack was never going to touch me, not really. He was nothing more than a pawn, an easy piece to move across the board. The real game was Liam.
And he walked right into it.
He thinks he walked away? That he ignored it?
No. He watched. He stayed long enough to let the image burn into his mind, long enough to let his fingers twitch with something he didn't want to name. And now, here we were, trapped in silence, but I could feel the storm raging inside him.
I tilted my head, studying the way his fingers flexed on the wheel. "You're mad."
No answer.
A slow smile crept across my lips. "You gonna ignore me all night?"
Still nothing.
Fine. I'd push harder. I sighed, feigning boredom. "It's not like I actually wanted him. If I did, I would've fucked him right there." His hands tightened.
Oh, that got to him.
I let my voice drop, slow and taunting.
"I didn't even moan. Not once. Because he wasn't worth it." Something snapped. His knuckles turned white against the wheel, his breathing sharp.
Gotcha.
Liam's grip on the wheel tightened, his knuckles white as he drove in silence. The tension in the truck was thick, pressing against us like a storm waiting to break. I turned my head slightly, watching him. The sharp angle of his jaw, the way his eyes stayed fixed on the road—like if he looked at me, he might lose whatever battle he was fighting in his head.
Good. Let him fight it.
I stretched, deliberately slow, my voice light. "You're driving like you want to kill someone!"
Still, nothing. But I saw the way his fingers flexed, how his shoulders tensed just a little more.
I should probably ask myself why I wanted his attention so badly. Why I pushed him like this.
But I already knew the answer. Because when it came to Liam... I wanted to win.
I clenched my fists, heat simmering beneath my skin. There's something in me—something competitive, relentless—that refuses to be ignored. Who the hell does he think he is? Acting like I don't exist. Like what he saw back there didn't affect him.
I know it did.
I don't know why it bothers me so much, but it does. I hate weak men—always have. The thought of weakness, of submission, of someone cowering in front of me, makes my stomach twist with something sharp and bitter. It's not just disgust—it's anger. Deep, unexplainable anger that I can't place.
Jack was weak. Pathetic. He thought he could manipulate me with cheap tricks, trying to corner me like some helpless girl who'd fall for his act. But I saw through him. I saw his fear. And I punished him for it. Because he tried to use a coward's tactic on me.
But Liam?
Liam doesn't beg. He doesn't stumble over himself to impress me. He doesn't crumble when I push. He holds the line, acts like nothing touches him. And that makes me want to break him. To rip through that control and see what's underneath.
But why?
Why do I feel this way? Why does the idea of a man turning away from me make my blood burn? Why does being ignored feel like a challenge I can't walk away from?
I don't know.
All I know is that there's—this pull, this instinct buried deep inside me, whispering that I have to win. That I have to be the one in control. That I can't stand weakness, not in others, and definitely not in myself.
Maybe it's something from my past. Maybe it's always been there, waiting for the right moment to surface. Or maybe, just maybe, I'm finally waking up to who I really am.
Liam didn't spare me a glance the entire ride. He didn't speak. He just drove, his grip on the wheel tight, his jaw locked, his silence heavier than the tension between us.
By the time we pulled up to the house, the air inside the truck was suffocating. The second he reached the driveway, he slammed the brakes. The sudden stop jolted me forward, my breath catching as my hands shot out to steady myself.
"Jesus Christ, Liam! What the hell is wrong with you?" I snapped, my voice sharp with both panic and irritation.
He didn't answer. He just shoved his door open, stepping out with a force that made the truck shake. The slam of the door echoed in the night.
I barely had a second to react before my door was yanked open. In one swift motion, he unbuckled my seatbelt and gripped my wrist, dragging me toward him. His other hand slammed against the truck, caging me in.
I felt the heat of his body, the tension coiled in every muscle. My back pressed against the door, but I held my ground, refusing to shrink beneath his stare.
His eyes were dark. Too dark.
"You think this is a game?" His voice was low, controlled, but there was something dangerous simmering beneath the surface.
I swallowed, catching my breath. "Isn't it?"
His jaw ticked. "No, it isn't." His head shook, slow, deliberate. "This is you begging for attention, desperate to be noticed."
I stiffened, but he wasn't done.
"You think you're in control, but you're not." His voice dropped lower, each word like a blade slicing through me. "You're just a pathetic little slut who can't handle rejection."
My pulse spiked, but I didn't look away.
He smirked, a cruel, mocking curve of his lips. "You think what you did got to me? That it rattled me?" He let out a humorless chuckle. "It didn't. I actually enjoyed the show you put on." He leaned in, his breath hot against my skin. "At least it was free. I didn't have to pay for a ticket to watch it."
His gaze flickered down, slow, taunting.
"That's how cheap and accessible you are."
Every word dripped with malice, and for the first time, something inside me wavered. He didn't wait for me to respond. He just turned around and walked away, leaving me alone in the dark with nothing but his words echoing in my head.
They got to me—I hated that they did. For a moment, I stood there, questioning everything. Myself. My actions. The gnawing pull inside me that I still couldn't explain.
I exhaled slowly, my fists clenching.
Fine. He won this round.
But next time?
Next time, I'd make sure he didn't.