His eyes flick up to mine, narrowing as he holds himself up. I swallow hard, trying to push down my nerves. “It’s my first time. Can you go slow, please?”
Liam doesn’t move or speak; he just stares at me. Finally, he blinks and releases himself. With an arched brow, he asks, “How’s that possible? What gorgeous twenty-one-year-old is a virgin?” he asks with a small chuckle as if he doesn’t believe it.
“Well…” I bite my lip nervously. “I’m not exactly twenty-one.”
He jerks back as if I’d just slapped his face. “How not twenty-one are you?” Liam’s voice is deep and accusing, and he’s pissed.
“Um…nineteen,” I say.
Liam’s eyes turn to slits as his mouth thins to a firm line. He’s kneeling between my legs, studying my face. “Don’t lie to me,” he snaps. His tone is harsh, which causes me to jump.
“Seventeen,” I whisper, lowering my gaze because I can’t bear to look at him after he realizes I’m underage.
“Fucking unreal.” He jumps off the bed and moves around the room, grabbing our clothes. “What the hell are you doing at a college party anyway? Are you trying to get me thrown in jail? What the fuck is wrong with you?” He’s spewing question after question, obviously raging pissed. I don’t blame him, but I hadn’t expected this kind of reaction because I thought our connection was mutual.
“I’m with a friend,” I stupidly say. “She invited me, and I had to lie about my age to get in.”
“Get dressed.” He throws my dress and panties at me. I slip them on, then grab my purse and shoes.
I walk toward the door then turn around to face him. “I’m sorry I lied.”
In only his boxers and jeans, Liam charges for me, and I walk backward until my back is to the wall. “You’re sorry?” He punches the wall next to my head, caging me in with his arms. “I’m not going to jail for you.”
“I wasn’t going to tell anyone,” I tell him calmly, resisting the urge to gaze at his bare chest. “I wanted you to take my virginity, so what’s the problem?”
His head drops down between his shoulders as he shakes it. “You don’t give away something like that to a guy like me.”
“What’s that mean?” I search his face.
Liam’s head pops up, and his eyes meet mine, dark and cold. Then he pushes off the wall and puts space between us. “Get out.”
I flinch as if he’d backhanded me. “What?” I ask just above a whisper.
“I said get the fuck out!” he roars, causing me to jump.
“You’re an asshole,” I mutter, turning and opening the door.
“Most guys are, sweetheart. Might wanna remember that,” he yells as I slam it behind me.
Trying to hold myself together, I straighten my spine, then walk down the stairs. I find Tessa to tell her I’m taking an Uber home since she’s been drinking, but I don’t give her any details about what just happened.
Once I’m dropped off, I let myself in through the back door and tiptoe back to my room without waking my parents. I refuse to cry for the man I almost gave everything to, but I’m frustrated. As I try to fall asleep, the feeling of his hands and mouth on me haunts me in my dreams.
* * *
ONE YEAR LATER
Liam
“Chug, chug, chug!” Hunter shouts, pounding his fist on the island counter as Mason and I race to finish first. I don’t know why the bastard keeps trying to beat me. I’ve kicked his ass four times already.
Slamming my cup down before him, I release a loud celebratory roar. I pound a fist to my chest, then turn and smirk at Mason, who’s scowling at me. We’ve been friends since we joined the same fraternity five years ago as freshmen and have been roommates for three. Hunter played college football with us and parties just as hard as we do. When we’re all together, it typically means trouble.
“Pay up, bitch!” I hold my palm out toward Mason, who slaps a twenty on it.
“That’s a hundred bucks already tonight,” Hunter taunts. “Double or nothing. Think you can beat me?”
“Fuck off,” Mason spits, glaring.
“Aww, Holt. Don’t be a sore loser.” I grin, making kissy faces while walking toward him with open arms.
“Get away from me, motherfucker.” He jumps out of my way, pushing Hunter toward me instead.
Our neighbor Kilan from across the street laughs at the scene unfolding in front of him and shoves me aside, going to the keg. He’s used to our antics. “Where’s your other friend? Brandon?” He looks at the other people partying around us and in the living room.
“Good question,” Hunter says, rolling his eyes. He’s been a bitter asshole ever since Brandon’s girlfriend moved into their apartment two months ago. I suspect it’s because he actually wanted to fuck her when they met last year, but Brandon claimed her first. Not like the bastard should complain, considering his serial dater reputation. Actually, “date” is too generous. More like a one-night stand, run, and ditch kinda guy. Though I’m not judging because I don’t date either.