Page 50 of Landing Liam

“Your turn,” I murmur. It comes out breathy and filled with something I don’t dare acknowledge.

But he doesn’t answer. Instead, he closes the remaining distance between us and I instantly react, seeking his mouth with my own. He’s warm and welcoming, and I feel the fire rage inside me, angry and hot.

His fingers run through my hair as I climb into his lap and straddle his waist. He tastes like bad decisions and danger and chocolate.

I gasp softly against his lips, but the sound is quickly swallowed by his kiss, hot and demanding. His hands tangle in my hair, tugging just enough to make my scalp tingle. A low growl escapes him, and it sends a shiver racing down my spine, pooling heat low in my stomach. Without thinking, I grind my hips against his, needing to be closer, needing more.

His hands slide down to my waist, gripping me with a possessiveness that makes my pulse skyrocket. I feel his strength beneath me, the way his body tenses and reacts to mine, and it’s intoxicating.

“Maggie,” he murmurs against my lips, his voice a mix of awe and desperation. His breath is balmy, ragged, and every word fans the flames inside me. “You’re going to ruin me.”

I smile into the kiss, my hands threading through his messy hair, tugging just enough to earn a sharp intake of breath from him. “Right back at you, Thompson,” I whisper, low and teasing.

His lips curve into a grin that I feel against my mouth, but he doesn’t stop. Instead, he pulls me closer, his hands skimming up my back, leaving a trail of heat in their wake. The world outside the room disappears—there’s no snowstorm, no blizzard, no story. Just us, tangled in the glow of the firelight, the only sound the crackling flames and the soft, heady gasps we draw from each other.

His heartbeat pounds beneath my palms, fast and erratic, matching the rhythm of my own. “You’re playing with fire,” he growls, his lips skimming down the curve of my neck, his stubble brushing against my skin and making me shiver.

I tilt my head back, giving him more access, my fingers curling against his shoulders. “Good thing I like the heat,” I manage, breathless and trembling.

His laughter is low and rough, reverberating through me. “Maggie Cooper,” he murmurs, the sound filled with both amusement and awe. “You are dangerous.”

“So are you,” I counter, my lips finding his again, and this time, the kiss is deeper, more consuming.

It’s reckless and wild, and for once, I let myself lean into it, let myself feel everything. His touch, his heat, his presence. It’s overwhelming in the best way, like diving headfirst into the deep end of the pool.

Right now, with the firelight casting golden shadows across his face and the storm raging outside, I don’t care about consequences or tomorrow. I only care about right now. Here. With him.

My fingers drift to the hem of his shirt, skimming the sultry, taut skin beneath. My touch is tentative at first, but as his body jerks in response, I feel a surge of confidence. His reaction—the way his muscles tense and a soft groan escapes his lips—makes me smile against his mouth.

Slowly, I tug the fabric higher, feeling the ridges of his abs under my fingertips. Liam doesn’t stop me; instead, he deepens the kiss, his hands sliding up my sides, encouraging me. When the shirt bunches near his chest, he raises his arms over his head, and we break the kiss just long enough for me to pull the material free and toss it aside.

For a moment, I just stare. His chest is broad and strong, the firelight casting amber shadows over the defined lines of his muscles. His skin is warm under my palms, and something unexpected twists in my chest. It’s not just desire—though that’s there in spades—but a longing I haven’t let myself feel in years. I’ve missed this closeness, this raw intimacy that comes from letting someone in.

But then the voice in my head starts up again. You have to stop, Maggie. You don’t know him. You’ve barely spent any time with him.

And yet, when Liam leans forward, cupping my face with both hands and kissing me with a tenderness that feels like it might undo me, every ounce of logic evaporates. His lips, his touch, the way he holds me like I’m the only thing that matters—it’s all too much, and not enough, all at once.

His fingers trace patterns down my back, pulling me closer, until there’s no space left between us. It’s maddening, this barrier of clothing that keeps us apart. My resolve crumbles completely. One night, I tell myself. One reckless, passionate night.

With a deep breath, I make a bold move, tugging the sweater over my head and letting it fall to the floor. Liam’s eyes widen, his gaze locking onto me with an intensity that makes my breath hitch. The firelight reflects in his chocolate-brown eyes, and his expression shifts from surprise to something deeper, something that makes my skin flush.

“Wow,” he breathes. His hands hover at my sides, as if he’s afraid to touch me, afraid to break the moment. “You’re… stunning.”

A blush creeps up my neck, but I don’t look away. “You’re not so bad yourself.”

That lopsided grin of his makes a reappearance, and he leans forward, his lips brushing against mine in a kiss so gentle it feels like a promise. His hands finally settle on my waist, his thumbs grazing my skin, and the warmth of his touch sends shivers racing through me.

As the fire crackles in the background and the snow continues to fall outside, I let myself get lost in him. Just for tonight. Just for this moment. Right now, there’s only Liam.

Chapter Twenty-Two

Liam

Her skin is scorching beneath my hands, soft and unyielding, and I can’t stop myself from tracing my fingers along the curve of her back. Maggie straddles me, her breaths shallow and quick, her eyes locked on mine. The flickering firelight dances over her bare skin, illuminating every inch of her like some divine masterpiece.

It’s not just the physical pull that has me undone, though that’s undeniable. There’s so much more here, something electric and raw that I’ve never felt before. My hands skim her sides, moving up slowly, memorizing every dip and curve as if I might never get another chance to hold her like this.

“Maggie,” I whisper hoarsely.