It’s uncanny.
“Yeah, but you’re six inches shorter.” There’s that cocky smile again, and I really want to wipe it off his face.
“Would you rather I scoot closer?” I bury the nerves surfacing and ignore the pounding in my chest as I practically climb on Liam, draping a leg over his, my hand finding his chest.
If he wants to be flirty, two can play at that game.
I can feel the steady rhythm of his heart.
It’s beating fast, but nowhere near as quick as mine.
Liam growls at me, an arm sliding out and circling my waist. “What are you doing?”
“What am I doing?” my voice squeaks, betraying me. I clear my throat, hoping he doesn’t notice, but that would be impossible. Maybe he just won’t say anything about it. “What are you doing?” I push the question onto him, my gaze meeting his.
I refuse to cower or to let Liam have the upper hand.
In one swift motion, he has his hands on my hips and pulls me across his leg and has me nestled between his thighs.
I’m curled on my side, my body resting against his chest. I feel the rise and fall of his chest, every heartbeat, even the heat of his breath against my hair as I swear, he plants a kiss to my forehead.
“Did you just kiss me?” I choke out, and this game may be fun, but it’s stressing me out. My heart is galloping in my chest, and my fingers move to his thigh, trembling, as the adrenaline surge assaults me yet again.
Liam’s breath is warm, and he exhales deeply, his strong arms wrapped around me. “Watch the movie, Firebreather.”
I snort at his nickname for me.
“Firebreather?”
Liam shrugs and smiles. “Am I wrong?”
Sophia chimes in with a laugh. “I mean, that could describe either one of you when you’re together.”
“I picked it first!” Liam scoots back slightly against the wall, his arms around me, pulling me to lie with him against his chest.
I shift so that I see the movie better, lying flush against his back, his arms encircling my hips.
It’s intimate, the way he holds me in his arms.
His little nickname stirs something buried deep inside of me.
I don’t hate it.
Not that I’d ever tell Liam, or he’d never let me live it down.
Just like being in his strong arms, his back against me, curled up, it isn’t so bad.
I try to focus on the movie, but all l can feel is each breath that he takes. It’s slow, even, steady.
How is he not panicking right now?
How can the man who hates me hold me like it’s no big deal and focus on the movie in front of us?
He rests his chin on the top of my head, and I wiggle against him, not wanting him to do that.
Liam clears his throat and shifts slightly.
Did I inadvertently make him uncomfortable?