When we walked inside, I was even more impressed. This wasn't some frat-house bachelor pad. The decor was all clean lines, modern furniture, and a state-of-the art kitchen with marble countertops.
I'd noticed Liam tended to wear brand names and order expensive drinks, but his parents must have been more than well off to give their son enough money to buy a house like this one at his age.
I thought about the shitty apartment my mom had rented. I didn't want to feel intimidated, but this was the first time since I'd met Liam that I felt almost ashamed of how my brother and I had grown up.
I shook it off. It didn't matter how much money our parents made and it didn't matter how we'd grown up. The only thing that mattered was the here and now.
Liam went to the fridge and started taking out a handful of items.
"Are you really going to cook dinner?" I asked. "I thought that was just an excuse."
"I'd never let a lady go hungry," he grinned. "Is pasta okay?"
"Sure." I was even more impressed now than I knew Liam could cook. At least that meant he didn't have some sort of private chef. That would have been too much for me to handle.
I leaned against the island counter and watched him work, putting a pot of boiling water on the stove and chopping fresh vegetables like tomatoes and bell peppers.
"I like seeing this other side of you," I said. "You'd make somebody a good house-husband."
"Is that how it's going to be?" He looked up from the chopping board and smiled. "You bring home the bacon and I make sure there's dinner on the table every night?"
The thought of such an arrangement sent my heart pounding. I knew he was just teasing but the idea of me and him living together, of enjoying that kind of domestic bliss…
My stomach flipped. I didn't know whether it was from panic or excitement.
"You're pretty handy with that knife," was all I said.
"I learned to cook a long time ago," he explained. "My dad made sure of that." He sounded oddly sad as he said it. I wondered…
“Is your dad…?” I trailed off.
“He's doing good,” he said. "He's a lawyer. Actually helped read through my first record contract."
"And your mom?"
He paused, the hand holding the knife hovering in mid-air.
“She’s across the country. Her and my dad split when I was a kid. That's why it was dad who taught me to cook. Mom wasn't around."
“They divorced?”
“Yeah. It's fine.” Liam shrugged but his pained eyes belied his casual pose. “They weren’t happy together anyway."
"Lots of fighting and yelling?" I guessed.
He cast his gaze down before retuning to the cutting board.
"No. I had no idea things were bad. Until—"
Liam pressed his lips together and sliced through a bell pepper with more force than needed.
I hesitated. "Can I ask what happened?"
"She left him for another guy. Left us. Went off and started another family. Haven't heard from her in years." Liam said the words so fast I also thought I misheard.
“I’m so sorry.”
“It’s fine." He shrugged, but he clearly wasn't. His mother leaving him had hurt. "I have some good memories of growing up. Like my dad teaching me to cook.” The tension between his brows softened. "My sister and I used to stand on a little stool and watch him in the kitchen when we were young. He never wanted us living off frozen pizzas and take out when we grew up."
A pang of jealousy shot through me, even though I knew it was petty.
“My dad bought me my first guitar," he continued. "He was sure it was just a phase and I'd never put the time in to practice, but I insisted I was serious about it. When he saw my band perform for the first time, he admitted he'd been wrong." He smiled softly. "He was so proud of me that day."
A hollow feeling ate at my stomach.
"What about your parents?" he asked. "Did they support your music?"
"Not really," I murmured. "My mom raised us alone. She was young. She tried her best, but…" I shrugged. "A young single mom working two jobs who went out partying every weekend with her friends didn't really have time to worry about nurturing her kid's hopes and dreams."
Liam's expression turned sympathetic. "It sounds like you and your brother raised yourselves."
"It seemed normal at the time," I said. "All our friends growing up had similar stories. It's like we used to say: broken homes and broken windows."
"Broken windows?" Liam repeated with a furrow brow. "Did you grow up in a bad part of town?"
"I suppose," I said reluctantly. "It wasn't the sort of place you'd want to wander around at night, that's for sure."
His eyebrows now shot up. "You're saying it was unsafe? Just how bad was it? Drugs, violence?"
Unsafe. Violence.
Every muscle in my body immediately tensed. This conversation was wandering too close to all kinds of stuff I didn't want resurfacing.
"What kind of pasta are you cooking?" I came around the island counter and popped one of the cherry tomatoes into my mouth. Liam batted my hand away with a light swat.
"No sneaking bites before dinner." He was eyeing me curiously. "If you didn't have much growing up, where you'd get your first guitar?"
"Borrowed it." If he wasn't going to let up on the questions, at least the subject had taken a U-turn. "My friends and I went to this youth center after school. It kept us kids off the streets and out of trouble. They had some instruments donated. At first we were just playing around, but a few of us got serious about it."
"You and Morris?" he asked.
My throat closed. I nodded.
"Yeah. We had a great thing going on," I managed to say.
"Hm." He went back to chopping vigorously, as if just hearing Morris's name had offended him somehow. "So the two of you have always been close."
I had to wonder just how well Liam thought Morris and I knew each other. There had never been anything between us. For me, there had only ever been Harper.
The pot of water boiling hissed as it bubbled over the rim. Liam cursed and hurried to the stove. I was grateful for the interruption of his game of twenty-questions.
Even though Liam and I were together, talking about my past still hurt.
I couldn't imagine that hurt ever going away.
24
The dinner Liam cooked was surprisingly delicious. Even though he knew his way around a kitchen, that didn't necessarily mean he could put together something tasty. But the pasta was expertly cooked and the sauce was the perfect blend of savory spices and fresh vegetables.
We ate dinner without Liam asking any more heart wrenching questions. We kept the conversation light, mostly talking about the tour.
I offered to do the dishes since he had cooked. He insisted on helping. Liam's definition of helping was pressing up against my back, his hips nestled firmly against my ass, and his hands running up and down my sides.
"Stop distracting me," I scolded with a laugh. "You're making me get water everywhere."
He bit down lightly on my ear.
"We're going to leave this kitchen more of a mess than we left off," I warned.
His hands stroked down my hips and back up my inner thighs.
"Do you want me to drop a dish and break it?" I asked.
"I've got plenty more." His fingers skirted the edges of my panties.
My legs went weak.
"The dishes can wait," I said, giving in.
"I've got a dishwasher anyway."
I glared at him. "Then why are we doing this by hand?"
"Because I love the view of your ass from this angle."
"Asshole."
He ground his hips against mine. His cock was hardening in his jeans. My inner muscles clenched at the memory of him inside me, hot and thick.
"Why don't I give you a tour of the place?" he said.
"Only if your bedroom is stop number one."
Liam took my hand and tugged me out
of the kitchen, up two flights of stairs and down a long hallway. He opened the door to a large bedroom with a king sized bed and plush carpet. There was an acoustic guitar in a stand in the far corner and a vinyl record player in the other. I supposed in a house this big he didn't have to worry about neighbors complaining about the noise.
Despite the ache between my legs, I took a moment to look around. Liam had seen where I lived. He'd gotten that peek inside my head. I couldn't help but want to do the same.
He had several tall bookshelves, but instead of books they held rows upon rows of CDs and vinyl records.
My eye caught one CD in particular, a first edition of Forever Night's debut indie album, signed by all the band members. There weren't many copies of these left. I'd looked myself, but had never been able to score one.
I picked it up, examining the album cover. It was all abstract swirls with a pale moon, almost like Van Gogh's The Starry Night, but with black and red instead of blue and yellow.
"You're holding two hundred dollars in your hand right now," Liam said.
I whistled. "Is that how much one of these things is worth?"
"Last time I checked, that was the going rate online."
"I wonder how much one of our signed debut albums is worth."
"Five hundred."
I blinked at Liam.
"I checked that, too," he grinned.
"Damn," I murmured. "Do you mind if I…?" I gestured to the CD.
"Go ahead."
I opened the case and pulled out the liner notes. The lyrics were printed on the folded sheet, along with thanks and acknowledgements. Liam had thanked his dad and sister, along with a handful of other names I didn't recognize.
He also thanked the other band members for "jumping on this crazy ride with me." When I looked for the other band members, I saw they had thanked each other as well, all with sentimental messages.
There was no sign of tension or strain between them. They each sounded genuine, sincerely appreciating, and perhaps even loving each other. They seemed like a true band of brothers.
My heart ached for Liam, knowing they had broken up only a few years after these messages were written.
The first time I'd lost my band, it had been under terrible circumstances. The thought of also losing Cherry Lips was unthinkable.
I felt Liam's eyes boring a hole into my back. I put the CD back on the shelf.
"Can I ask what happened?" I asked softly. I had to know.
His eyes darted to the side. "We had a falling out."
"Creative differences?"
He smiled sadly. "That's the official story."
"What's the real story?"
"I was betrayed."
My lips parted in surprise. That was a strong choice of words. "Who— How—" I didn't know what to ask first.
He shrugged. "My guitarist took advantage of my trust in him. The details aren't important."
They were important. I wanted to know more about Liam, just as much as he wanted to know about me.
But I worried if I pressed him, he would want me to open up in return.
I wasn't ready for that.
We were just at the start of our relationship. There was no need to rehash all the awful details of my past when the day had been going so well. Liam's eyes were already downcast, an almost haunted look on his face. I didn't need to add to that.
I went up to him and wrapped my arms around his neck, pressing my chest to his.
"I'm sorry," I told him.
His hands went to my hips. I ran my fingers through his thick hair. His eyes went heavy-lidded, enjoying the sensation.
"I'm over it," he said. "What happened was shitty, but I've moved on to bigger and better things."
"Like Cherry Lips?"
"You certainly are bigger and better." He gazed down at me, green eyes bright and clear. "I’m grateful you took a chance on me.”
“Wasn’t really a chance,” I said. “No matter who else had auditioned for us, you would have been better in the end, anyway. It made sense to go with you.”
“Still. Thank you.”
“Don’t thank me. Thank Gael and Nate. I had about a million objections.”
“And now?” he asked. “Do you still object to my presence?”
“I suppose I can tolerate you.”
“Faint praise.”
“That’s high praise,” I corrected. “I didn’t want anyone else joining my band, ever. The fact that you’re here says a lot about your talent.”
“Better quit talking me up or I’m going to get a swelled head.”
“Isn’t it a bit too late for that?”
“At least I can keep my ego in check most of the time, unlike your brother.”
“He’s gotten better. Thank god. There’s enough egomaniacs in Cherry Lips already.”
“Yourself included?”
“I’m aware of my faults.”
“Do you think—” Liam paused, hesitating, then started again. “How do you think Gael will react when he finds out?”
“About us?” I raised an eyebrow. “He’ll try to punch you in the face.”
“Why do I have the feeling you’re speaking from experience?”
“There’s an overprotective-brother cliché because it’s true.”
“So you’re saying we shouldn’t tell him? Or the guys?”
“Not yet,” I said. “Not until the tour is over, at least. They’ll all get their panties in a twist about dating within the band and what if we break up and blah blah blah.” I shook my head ruefully. “We don’t need that distraction.”
“So when the tour is over, we come clean?”
“You make it sound like we’re keeping a dirty little secret. We’re keeping our relationship to ourselves to prevent unnecessary drama.”
“Sounds fair,” Liam said. “When the tour is over, I’ll be out of the band and their objections won’t matter any more.”
Out of the band.
After the tour, Liam was going to leave.
He wasn’t going to leave me, but my band made up a huge part of my life. With the time I put into recording and rehearsing and touring, how easy would it be to maintain a normal relationship? I’d never had to worry about that before.
A small part of me wondered if, maybe, Liam staying in the band wouldn’t be such a bad idea.
Then I remembered how Liam reacted the two previous times the idea was brought up. He'd went cold and tensed up.
What was so wrong with the idea of him joining Cherry Lips?
"I have to admit,” Liam said, “I was worried when I first started. Being thrust into an already established group is hard. But your guys are cool. I like them."
"And what about me?" I teased. "Do you like me?"
His eyes darkened. His hands squeezed my hips. "I fucking adore you."
My heart squeezed tightly, before floating up and out of my chest. It sounded like he really meant it.
"I guess you're okay, too," I said in response, a smile playing on my lips.
A wicked expression crossed his face. "Just okay? That's not what you were screaming last night."
I stood on my tiptoes and brought my lips to his, just barely brushing them.
"Maybe I need a reminder."
He closed the gap and crushed his mouth to mine. He swiped the tip of his tongue along my lower lip and I opened for him. Smoothing his hands over my ass, he pulled me close. The firm grip had me whimpering in his mouth.
He tugged my skirt down over my hips as his teeth grazed my upper lip. I loved how demanding he was, touching me in all the right places. He grabbed my ass cheeks and squeezed hard, sending waves of pleasure coursing through my body.
“Greedy,” I hissed, tipping my head back.
“Can’t help it,” he grunted, nibbling along my neck. "You're so fucking tempting."
My belly twitched in excitement. I couldn’t wait to have his hips between my legs again. I couldn’t wait to feel him moving inside me.
/> I started off towards his bed, kicking my boots off along the way. I looked up at him over my shoulder. Liam was practically licking his lips, as if he was about to devour me. I didn’t break eye contact with him as I lay down on his bed and spread my legs, my thin cotton underwear the only barrier. I trailed my fingers down my chest, along my stomach, to the apex of my thighs. I inched lower until I found that one spot. I rubbed at myself, letting out a stifled moan, keeping my eyes locked on Liam the entire time.
“That’s the sexiest fucking thing I’ve ever seen,” he murmured, sending my pulse rising.
He yanked his shirt off almost violently, his jeans soon following. I marveled at his toned, inked skin. The moment his cock was free of his underwear, my mouth almost watered. Naughty ideas about what I could do with that cock began to fill my head.
But that was for another time. Once Liam had rolled on protection, he climbed into bed. He yanked my panties down my legs, his mouth planting hot kisses on my thighs, making me squeeze my eyes shut. I gripped the sheets hard as his lips moved along my skin, going closer to my entrance and then pulling away, teasing me.
I grabbed a fistful of his hair and tried to direct him where I wanted him.
He chuckled. "Now who's being greedy?"
Before I could gasp out a reply, he flicked his tongue across my clit. I moaned out loud. He licked firm lines up and down, parting my folds. Every lick and suck and twirl of his tongue drove me crazy. He slid two fingers between my lower lips, caressing but not entering, showing me again what a tease he was.
“Fuck, you’re dripping,” he groaned against my skin.
I grabbed his wrist. Raising it to my mouth, I slipped his index and middle fingers through my lips, tasting myself on his skin. As he watched, his eyes burned with an inner fire, his muscles bunched as if seconds away from pouncing.
There had been had enough teasing from both of us. I wanted more. I wanted him. All of him.
Once more, I tugged on his hair.
"Fuck me," I demanded breathlessly.
His eyes flashed with hunger. He sat up, parting my thighs with his knees. Our eyes met.
With one slow thrust, he entered me. His long, hard inches stretched me wide. My head thumped back onto the bed at the delicious friction against my inner walls. My whole body throbbed with need.
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