Friday night the house was quieter than usual.
My mother and stepfather had gone out for a late dinner with friends and weren’t expected back until well after midnight. The second the front door closed behind them, the air in the house changed. I felt it in my chest—the same charged, reckless pull that had been building between Liam and me for days.
I didn’t wait in my room this time.
I found him in the living room, standing by the window with a glass of water in his hand, watching the dark street outside. He turned the moment he heard my footsteps. His eyes dragged over me—bare legs, one of his T-shirts that barely covered the tops of my thighs, nothing underneath—and something hungry and possessive settled over his face.
“Come here.”
I crossed the room. The second I was close enough
