Chapter Sixteen

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Jessica

I keep telling myself I am only giddy because I am about to be in the water after being away from it for so long. But I know the real reason my heart is beating out of my chest as I get to Liam's front door. I am pleased to find it unlocked. I didn't think he would actually take me seriously when I suggested that.

I barge in and call out.

A figure appears from the living room, and I expect to see Liam. But instead, I come face to face with a tall blonde. Unlike the first time I saw her, she is fully clothed. She has on a tortilla brown coat draped over an off white pencil skirt paired with nude pointed-toe heels. She looks much older like this.

I see a carry on in her hand and wonder where she is going. When she sees me, she comes to an abrupt stop. She must not have heard me call.

"Oh, hello." She smiles and walks over. "I'm sorry, I didn't know anyone was here." She gives me a quick hug.

You'd think she'd be a bitch considering she is married to a jackass. But she is actually very pleasant.

"Is Liam here?" I ask, even though I already know he is. I saw his bike parked outside.

She purses her lips and sighs heavily.

"Yeah, he is upstairs. Though I don't know if he'll be much of a company."

She tells me, and I frown.

"Why? Is he not okay?" I ask.

I watch her have an internal battle. She's probably deciding on whether to tell me or not. I feel my anxiety rise as I wait for her to say something. She finally sighs, giving in.

"I told Liam that I am pregnant, and he didn't take it so well."

She tells me, and I'm confident that my mouth is hanging open. I am not sure what I expected her to tell me, but this was definitely not it.

"Um,.. con... congratulations." I stutter.

"We didn't plan it. It just happened. I never expected him to be overjoyed, but I hoped he'd at least be fine with it."

I am positive I should say something. Tell her that he'll come around or something. But I don't know that for certain. So, I just stand awkwardly feeling like I just overstepped some sort of unmarked boundary. I don't know if Liam would want me to know this, but I can't unlearn it now.

Sabrina glances at her watch.

"I should get going. I'm going to catch a flight back to New York. He doesn't want me here. Talk to him if you can." She tells me, eyes full of worry. And I nod.

She gives me a small troubled smile before slipping out the door.

I stand there debating on going up or just leaving and pretending like I never showed up. Knowing him, I feel like he would want to be left alone right now. But I want to know if he is okay.

Deciding actually takes me a while. When I finally make up my mind and start going up, I see him at the top of the stairs. I stop in my tracks, a little startled. I have no idea how long he has been standing there watching me.

"I thought you were going to leave." He says, confirming that he was watching me the entire time.

"I didn't know if you'd want me here," I tell him, and I spot the bottle in his hand for the first time.

He sees me looking at it.

"I didn't have much." He tells me, coming down till we are face to face. "Today just so happens to be a special occasion." He says, and the smell of bourbon hits me full force.

I can tell that he isn't exactly drunk, but he is not too far off.

"Aren't you going to say something?" He asks, staring at me with bloodshot eyes.

I have no idea what the right thing to say is. I am not very good at diffusing a ticking time bomb. If anything, I'd probably end up setting it off faster.

"Feel free to congratulate me. Apparently, I'm going to be a big brother soon." One side of his lip turns up. "She said he was happy when they found out. Ecstatic, actually. Turns out I was his problem." He looks into my eyes, and it's like I'm meeting him for the first time. I can finally see the wounded soul he hides in plain sight, bared naked in front of my eyes.

I hate his father as much as I hate mine right now.

"He was his problem, Liam. He failed at being a father. That's not on you." I tell him.

He stares at me with tortured eyes like he doesn't quite believe me, and my heart hurts for him. I wish I could take his pain away, but I don't know how.

"You should swim before it gets cold outside." He tells me, finally looking away and stepping aside. But I have already decided to skip it today.

"I can do that tomorrow. We can just talk." I tell him.

"Talk about what? How there has never been a single person on earth who gave a fuck about me? What exactly do you expect me to do, cry on your shoulders?" He laughs sarcastically. "I am actually glad that I have no one. I don't have to live up to anyone's expectations, and I certainly do not expect anything from anyone. Saves me from a lot of disappointment. So save your pity for someone who needs it!" He is vicious as he walks past me and heads for the kitchen.

I follow him.

"This isn't pity, Liam. It's empathy. Believe it or not, I actually understand. And you do have someone. You have me."

"I don't need you! I have been on my own for as long as I can remember, and I've managed just fine." His eyes are spitting fire. I could yell back at him and turn this into a full-blown fight, but I know his day has been way shittier than mine, so I calmly take his misdirected rage.

"I am not a broken thing for you to fix!" He snaps at me.

"I don't want to fix you. I want to be there for you." I tell him softly.

"Why do you even care?" He rests his elbows on the counter and buries his face in his palms. "Just go."

I, more than anyone, know pushing everyone away and lashing out is a silent cry for help. It's ridiculous to think you can take on the world alone. Because the odds are going to be against you. Everyone needs someone, and misery loves company. But I decide to just let him be for now, and I make my way to the sliding glass door and head out to the pool.

I have actually chosen a decent swimsuit this time around. It's a two-piece, but it's more conservative than the lingerie I wore the last time. It is already dark and cold outside. When I get into the pool, the heated water feels heavenly against my skin. Swimming is my therapy. When I'm submerged in the water, all the outside noise fades away, and there is just peace and tranquility. I float, and I don't think about anything other than floating. Nothing can hurt me here. The water is my hiding place.

When I come up for air, I see a silhouette standing at the edge of the pool. I stop and look at him.

The bottle is no longer in his hands. He looks somber as he stares back at me. I wait for him to say something, but he doesn't. Instead, he takes his T-Shirt and jeans off and dives into the water. I don't dare move. In a few seconds, he is standing in front of me, his dark hair wet, hard body glistening under the pale moonlight. Water drips from his long lashes onto his cheeks, and I follow the trail to his lips. God! He is insanely, ridiculously, stupidly gorgeous! And the sight knocks the breath out of me. I take as much air into my lungs as possible and pray I don't end up being the first person to drown in a pool by fainting.

Our almost naked bodies are inches away from each other, and I ogle his broad shoulders and tattooed chest shamelessly. Only the left part of his chest is tattooed, and if you aren't as close to him as I am right now, you wouldn't be able to see the scar that starts at his shoulders and makes it's way to his heart. It's not hard to tell it was a horrible wound when it was fresh. Before I can ask him about it, his fingers are running down my bra strap.

"I like the red one better." He says a hint of amusement in his eyes. Angry groggy Liam is gone.

I let out a breath of relief and smile at him. His fingers travel up, tracing my skin. And he runs his thumb across my lower lip. My heart starts beating wildly, and goosebumps erupt across my skin. His eyes search mine, desire burning in them. But I don't know what he's looking for. Whatever it is, I hope he finds it.

When I feel his thumb run over my lips, I surprise myself by biting the pad. The moment my teeth touches his skin, something shifts. His hand moves to my lower back, and he pulls me flush against him. Our chests push against eachother and I literally start panting as he grabs my thighs and lifts me up, wrapping my legs around his waist. My arms instinctively encircle around his neck, and our eyes meet.

I'm a bit taller than him this way, so he dips his head a little and licks from the base of my throat to my ear. A shudder passes through my entire body, and I feel like I'm going to pass out. He runs his tongue on the shell of my ears and bites the skin beneath lightly, making me roll my head back with a moan. Yes, I actually moan. But I don't have time to be mortified because next thing, his lips are on mine.

He kisses me with the kind of hunger that catches me off guard. His lips are so possessive, so domineering and I love it. He kisses me like he has been craving this for a long time, and I know that from this moment on, he has ruined me for any other guy to come. I'm never getting over this kiss.

I shove my fingers in his soft, thick hair the way I have been dying to and pull him closer to me. His arms press against the back of my neck, and he kisses me harder, his tongue licking and exploring. I can taste the faintest hint of whiskey mixed with his peppermint mouth wash. The combination is dangerously intoxicating. By the time we pull apart, I'm gasping for air, and I almost want to whine because I already want his lips back on mine again.

"I am going to need a very cold shower." He tells me, and I laugh despite myself.

A look of wonder and warmth cross his eyes, and then his mouth is back on mine. We kiss like we weren't at it just a few seconds ago. His tongue runs along the roof of my mouth, and I clutch him harder. I don't know how to pull him any closer without actually crawling inside him. But I'll be damned if I don't try. I feel his erection poking at the thin material of my bikini, and I softly rub myself against him. A loud groan escapes his chest, and it is so erotic that I almost come right there and then. Our breathing instantly becomes more labored, and I start moaning into his mouth. But he abruptly grabs my waist and stills my movements.

"Fuck, Jess! Too much. It's too much." He breaths, resting his forehead against mine and struggling to control his breathing.

I whine, claiming his lips. He kisses me back with the same longing, but he pulls away once again.

"Please. If we don't stop now, I'm going to take you right here in the water." He tells me, slowly releasing me.

I can see him fighting to regain control, and I appreciate him for it. If he didn't stop, I'm not sure that I would have. I might have ended up crossing a line I am not ready to cross. It is insane what one dangerously handsome boy can do to a girl's body and mind. My limbs feel weak, and I am praying to God that my knees and arms are strong enough to make it to the edge of the pool.

Once we are out of the water, Liam tells me not to glance below his waist, which makes me laugh.

I wrap myself in a towel as he walks inside. He tells me to use the shower in his room, and he heads into the guest shower.

When I step out, he is in the kitchen, chopping vegetables. It's the last thing on earth I expected to see him do, and my face says it all because he looks at me and laughs.

"I think you dropped your jaw on the floor." He tells me, and I straighten my expression.

"You cook?" I ask, not trying to hide my amazement.

I can't cook to save my life.

"I don't appreciate the tone of surprise." He says, but his lips turn up with a hint of a smile.

"Should you be holding a knife right now?" I look at him skeptically, referring to the alcohol he consumed earlier.

"It was out of my system by the time I stepped into the pool." His eyes smile at me, and I blush.

Carefree and playful Liam is my favorite, and I can't get enough of him right now. I walk to him and prop myself on the countertop.

"So, how'd you learn to cook?" I ask.

"I was living alone, even before I was actually living alone. So it was either starving to death or learning to feed myself. You learn to look after yourself when no one else does." He says, and I hear the hint of resentment.

"What are you making?" I ask, changing the direction of the conversation.

"We are making Lemon Chicken Skillet because you are going to be helping." He says, and he tells me to slice lemons as he chops carrots and small red potatoes while cooking the chicken breast halves on the pan. And he does it all with such ease while I stand here making slicing Lemons look like brain surgery. I love watching him do most things, but watching him cook has got to be my favorite.

He does most of the cooking while I just stand around, handing him things and asking questions he tirelessly answers. And when it's finished, we eat the delicious cuisine in the family room while watching Modern Love.

I started watching it a few days ago, and I cry in every episode. I try to fill him in on the past couple of episodes, and he listens to me. I smile and then tear up and then smile again while watching the show, and I feel Liams eyes on me the entire time. He is watching me more than he is watching the show, and it both thrills and terrifies me.

Once we are done eating, I offer to wash the dishes, but he insists on doing it himself. From spending all this time with him, I have found that Liam is a perfectionist. He likes doing things a certain way, and he is the definition of a  clean freak. I take the opportunity to admire him taking my place on the countertop again. My phone buzzes, and it's my mom. I'm surprised it took her this long to call. It's almost 9. Liam has asked if I could stay the night, and I wasn't ready to let him out of my sight just yet, so I said alright.

I explain to my mom about how Steff needs my help on a huge assignment and tell her I have decided to stay the night. Just the thought of sleeping in Liam's bed again is enough to get my blood pumping in my head.

"You're not sleeping in that, are you?" He asks once we step into the Bedroom.

I look down at my Guns N' Roses graphic tee and washed denim jeans.

I shrug.

"I slept in my dress last time."

"That was a long time ago." He says.

It actually wasn't that long ago, but so much has happened since then it feels like an eternity ago. He hands me a white shirt and tells me he likes the white with my blonde hair. I'm sure his T-shirt will be huge on me considering how tall he is and how short I am. But I still don't feel comfortable. I know he has seen me half-naked, but that was inside the water. I may have a somewhat fit body now, but I am too curvy, and have a huge ass. Which may sound appealing to some people. But being called "fat ass" most of my childhood has made it a big source of insecurity for me. When you've been told your whole life something is wrong with your body, you can't suddenly love it because the world has decided that it is the latest "trend". I want to love my body and feel beautiful in my own skin regardless of what the world has to say. Because tomorrow, it could change its mind.

I make Liam give me boxer shorts to wear underneath the T-shirt, and he complies. I watch his eyes widen when I come out of the bathroom.

"What?"

I'm so self-conscious right now I wanna run back and hide.

"This might be even sexier than the red lingerie." He tells me, groaning softly. "Jesus, Jess!"

I laugh and roll my eyes.

"Such a guy thing to say." I mock him as I comb my hair out with my fingers so I don't wake up with a tangled mess tomorrow.

When I settle on the bed, he puts the book he was reading aside, and he watches me. I scoot over and grab the book.

The Count of Monte Cristo by Alexandre Dumas.

I delicately trace the edges of the worn-out cover. I can tell it's an early edition without having to check the year.

"This is about revenge." I look up at him, tracing my fingers over the title.

"It's about the pursuit of justice. And betrayal, loneliness, survival, suffering, and love." He tells me. "It explains how rage can end up making you feel so insignificant. 'An ant, cursing God from a summit of a blade of grass.'"

My heart squeezes painfully when I realize that he is relating himself to the main character. I put the book back and grab the hem of his shirt. His eyes go from my fingers to my eyes, uncertainty flashing in them. I pull the T-shirt over his head, and he lets me.

I hesitantly trace my finger across the scar on his left, and he sucks in a sharp breath. I have wanted to touch it from the moment I saw it. And he watches me cautiously, his heart beating wildly against my fingers. But he doesn't try to stop me.

"How did it happen?" I ask him.

"Motorcycle accident."

"While racing?"

He nods. "I was already modeling by then, so I decided to get a tattoo over it. I thought if it was covered, it wouldn't be so unpleasant to look at. That is how I got my first ever tattoo."

Unpleasant is the last word that comes to my mind while looking at Liam. I lean in and kiss the scar on his shoulder. It might be strange to admit, but I actually find it beautiful. It shows that he has been through something terrible and survived.

I get bold and run my tongue down it, and I feel him shiver. He grabs the back of my neck and looks into my eyes, his eyes filling with that same look of warmth and wonder. If he kisses me now, I know we won't be able to stop. So I pull away.

We lay on top of the cover, and I rest my head on his bare chest, reveling in the contact of skin to skin. He wraps his arms around me and kisses my hair. A tender feeling fills my chest, and I snuggle into him, pressing my lips to his heart. Liam tightens his hold on me, burying his chin in my hair, and I hesitantly close my eyes. I am not ready for this day to be over yet because I am afraid I'm going to wake up tomorrow and things will feel different.

***

Thanks for reading again, and I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter. Please, Vote and comment :)

Much love,
Becca


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