7
Tessa
It should be easier, now that we’ve crossed every line. But if anything, being his has only made me more reckless. The secret is all that keeps us burning—it’s a fuse, lit and hissing, waiting for someone to notice. For someone to open the wrong door at the wrong time and see everything.
Sometimes I think we want to be caught.
Tonight, I’m sprawled on my bed in nothing but a faded T-shirt and lace panties, reading, pretending I can focus. But my mind is all over the place, replaying the way Liam looked at me at dinner, the way his knee pressed against mine under the table, silent promises written in every glance.
Down the hall, I hear the muted thud of his footsteps, the door opening, closing, opening again. He’s restless. So am I.
It’s late—later than I realize. Mom is still
