Chapter 3: Interrupted
The silence after was a living thing, thick and humming with what they’d done. Dizzy listened to Liam’s breathing even out beside her, his hand still a warm, shocking anchor around hers. She could feel the phantom ache of him between her legs, a delicious, shameful reminder.
Finally, he stirred. He let go of her hand, and the cool air that rushed to fill the space felt like a loss.
“We should…” he began, his voice hoarse. “We’re probably a mess.”
“A biohazard,” she agreed, the sarcasm automatic, a familiar wall sliding back into place. She kept her face averted.
She heard him sit up, the sheets rustling. “There’s, uh, a shower. Through there.”
“You first,” she said, too quickly.
A pause. “Okay.”
He moved from the bed, and she allowed herself a single, fleeting glance. His back was taut, muscles shifting under skin marked faintly by her nails. He pulled on his discarded sweatpants and padded quietly into the ensuite bathroom. The lock clicked softly, not quite shutting out the sound of the shower starting a moment later.
Dizzy let out a shuddering breath. She stared at the ceiling, at a hairline crack in the sickly mint plaster that looked like a lightning bolt. Her body felt used and glorious. Her mind was a riot. He’d held her hand. What did that mean? Probably nothing. Probably just post-coital politeness, like leaving a tip.
When the water stopped, she braced herself. He emerged with a towel slung low on his hips, his hair dark and dripping. He didn’t look at her as he gathered his clothes from the floor.
“All yours,” he mumbled, and slipped out of the bedroom, closing the door behind him with a soft, final click.
Alone, she felt the magnitude of the room. The rumpled, stained sheets were a testament. She got up, her legs unsteady. She avoided her reflection in the dresser mirror, grabbing her bag and heading for the bathroom.
The shower was still humid, steam clinging to the single frosted glass panel. It smelled of his soap, something clean and piney. She stepped under the spray, letting the water pound the tension from her shoulders. She washed between her legs, wincing at the tender sensitivity, a visceral echo of him. Her skin smelled like him, like sex, like salt. She scrubbed until it felt like a betrayal, until her skin was pink and raw.
She was rinsing shampoo from her hair, eyes closed against the suds, when she heard the door open. A cold draft cut through the steam.
Before she could react, the shower door slid open. Liam stood there, naked, his eyes dark and intent. He’d come back. He stepped into the tub, crowding her under the spray.
“Liam, what—”
He didn’t let her finish. He backed her against the cold tiles, his body hot and solid against her wet skin. The water sluiced over them both. His erection was already hard, pressing into her stomach.
“I couldn’t stop thinking,” he said, his voice low, swallowed by the hiss of water. “About you in here. Alone. Washing me off.”
He grabbed her wrists, pinning them above her head against the tile with one strong hand. The other hand slid down her side, over the curve of her hip, and around to the swell of her ass. He squeezed, hard.
“Look at me,” he demanded.
She forced her eyes open, meeting his. The shyness was incinerated, burned away by a possessiveness that stole her breath.
“You think I don’t know?” he growled. Water dripped from his dark lashes. “You think I didn’t see every fucking perfect inch of you in that bed? That I can’t see you now?”
His free hand cupped her breast, his thumb scraping over her nipple. “These gorgeous tits.” His hand slid down over her belly, through the wet thatch of curls between her legs. “This perfect, soft stomach.” His fingers dipped, finding her entrance, sliding in easily because she was already slick for him again. “This fucking incredible cunt that squeezed my dick until I saw stars.”
He withdrew his fingers, using both hands to turn her roughly, facing her towards the tile. He kicked her legs wider apart. The position was vulnerable, exposed. She braced her hands against the wall.
He leaned into her, his mouth at her ear. “You think I’m shy? I’m not shy about this. About what I want to do to you.”
He pressed the head of his cock against her, not entering, just rubbing the thick length through her soaked folds, teasing her clit with every pass.
“Please,” she whimpered, pushing back against him.
“Please what?”
“Fuck me. Please.”
He didn’t need another invitation. He drove into her in one long, smooth stroke, filling her completely. The water cascaded over their joined bodies. He set a brutal, driving rhythm immediately, his hips slapping against her ass, the sound wet and lewd over the shower’s white noise.
One hand gripped her hip, holding her steady for his thrusts. The other snaked around her front, fingers finding her clit, rubbing in frantic, concentric circles perfectly in time with his deep plunges.
“This is what you do to me,” he grunted, his breath hot on her neck. “Turn me into some fucking animal. I want to be in you all the time. Feel this.” He thrust harder, deeper, and she cried out, her forehead pressing against the cool tile. “Take all of me. Your tight little cunt is made for my cock.”
His words were filthy, perfect. They stripped away every last pretense. She was just a body, his body, taking and being taken. The pleasure mounted, a cresting wave built from the relentless friction inside her and the clever, urgent pressure on her clit.
“I’m gonna come,” she gasped, the words torn from her.
“Come then,” he snarled. “Scream it. Let the whole fucking house know I’m in here making you come on my dick.”
His fingers worked her faster. His thrusts became shorter, harder, piston-like. The coil snapped. Her orgasm ripped through her with a violence that blurred her vision. She did scream, a raw, ragged sound lost in the steam and the water, her body clenching around him in successive, pulsing waves.
Feeling her convulse around him tipped him over the edge. With a guttural shout, he buried himself to the hilt, his body stiffening as he emptied into the condom, his hips jerking through the last pulses of his release.
They stayed like that for a long moment, slumped against the tile, breathing in gulps of humid air as the water began to run cool.
Slowly, he pulled out. He turned her around, his hands gentle now, framing her face. He looked utterly wrecked, and utterly sure.
Before he could speak, the bathroom door creaked open.
A female voice, bright and echoing, called out. “Dizzy? You alive in here? We’re making pancakes!”
Chloe.
Liam’s eyes went wide with panic. Dizzy’s heart seized. They were trapped, naked, visibly just fucked in a steam-filled glass box.
“Yeah!” Dizzy called back, her voice miraculously steady. “Just finishing up! Be out in a sec!”
A beat of silence. “Okay! Don’t use all the hot water, you hog!” The door clicked shut.
The tension whooshed out of the room, leaving them in a bubble of precarious, giggling fear. Liam rested his forehead against hers, a choked laugh escaping him.
“Close,” he whispered.
She nodded, her own laughter bubbling up, hysterical and light. The absurdity of it, the sheer, reckless normalcy of Chloe’s interruption, cracked the intense bubble they’d been in.
They washed quickly, separately now, the spell broken by the outside world. They toweled off in silence, not looking at each other. Dizzy wrapped herself in a towel and crept back into the empty bedroom to dress. When she emerged in shorts and a tank top, her hair in a wet bun, Liam was already in the hallway, dressed, leaning against the wall waiting for her. He looked like he wanted to say something, his mouth opening then closing.
From the kitchen downstairs came the smell of coffee and burning batter, and the sound of Chloe’s laughter.
“We should…” Dizzy said, nodding toward the stairs.
“Yeah.”
He didn’t move. He reached out, his thumb brushing a drop of water from her collarbone. The touch was so tender it hurt.
“Later,” he said, the word a quiet promise. “We talk later.”
Then he turned and walked down the stairs toward the noise, leaving her to follow, her skin still humming from his touch, her world tilted irrevocably on its axis.