Liam makes dinner that night. For the first time in days, I’m actually hungry. No longer petulant enough to hide in my room, I occupy a stool at the island while he tosses linguine and vegetables with lemon and butter.

The muscles beneath his white t-shirt bunch and relax as he works. From discreet speakers croons the likes of Ella Fitzgerald and Nina Simone.

Almost, it feels like stepping back in time.

I watch him suck a bit of buttery sauce off his thumb. He’s not trying to seduce me, which makes the gesture all the more captivating.

My earlier thought floats hazily through my mind. Maybe it’s in my DNA.

“You don’t look hungry, dove. Not for food, at least.”

My gaze jerks up from his mouth, now curled in a smirk. “Nice try,” I quip, but my voice is breathy, giving away my arousal.

Liam cocks his head. “My lady doth protest too much,” he murmurs.

“Quoting Shakespeare isn’t going to get you into my pants, Liam.”

His gaze narrows, darkening to stormy indigo. My core clenches, knowing what’s coming, thrilling in it even as my mind recoils.

“And what if I told you that tonight you’ll eat dinner in the nude?”

That voice. So smooth. So controlled.

“Fuck off,” I bite out.

Liam grunts, chest expanding on a heavy breath. His hand skates down the front of his slacks. I can’t help but follow the movement, to see him thick and hard behind his zipper.

“Even your vitriol makes me hard, dove.”

I open my mouth but no sound comes out. Liam doesn’t move, watching me. Waiting. Electric want lifts the hair on my neck. A storm is coming—he is the storm.

“Take them off, Eden.”

Lightness over steel. Desire cloaked in discipline.

Is this who I am?

Is this what I want?

Does anything fucking matter?

“One more chance before I make that ass as red as your cheeks.”

I jerk to my feet. My breath comes in short pants. My fingers tremble as I lift my shirt over my head. Unclasp my bra and let it fall. Shimmy out of my jeans and underwear. Step to the side, away from the island. Exposed to him.

With slow, measured steps, Liam rounds the island. I know—even before he unbuckles his belt—what he wants. Only he doesn’t realize it’s more reward than punishment to me.

I am as he said—depraved.

“On your knees.”

The wood is unforgiving. I embrace the small pain in my joints. Let it heighten my other senses. The sound of his zipper going down. Pants hitting the floor, belt buckle clacking on impact. The whisper of his boxers following.

The head of his cock drags over my lips. I open for him. Greedy for his taste. Unashamed in my surrender. He immediately thrusts to the back of my throat. I swallow, pulling him to my body’s limit. My eyes water, lungs burning as I suck what air I can through my nose.

His fingers cradle my head, thumbs gathering the tears leaking from the corner of my eyes. When he draws back, I inhale swiftly—my only reprieve before he begins to move. Owning his pleasure. Owning me.

A pulse along his shaft warns me he’s close. Sometimes he gives me a choice. Not tonight. He climaxes with a sigh, and I swallow his pleasure.

For brief moments, I own him.

I stay on my knees, my eyes closed as he pulls from my mouth. Boxers and pants slide up his legs. Zipper. Belt.

I’m aching, throbbing and wet.

My punishment.

His footsteps move away. “I’m famished. Come on, dove, time to eat.”

* * *

As much as I might resist the truth, Liam remains what he’s been since the first touch of his lips on mine. My obsession. My fixation.

My escape.

For tonight, I relinquish the fight. I let him take away the confusion, the fear. I give my shifting Self to him. He is the sun, blotting out the shadows in my soul.

After dinner he draws me a bath, fussing over the temperature, lighting candles along the rim. He leaves, then returns with two glasses of red wine. He reads me James Joyce’s Ulysses, picking up where we left off before we took the exit to Crazytown.

When the chapter is finished and the wine floats warmly in my veins, I ask him to tell me about growing up in Ireland. Expecting his usual redirection, I’m surprised when he answers readily.

“It was rather dull, believe it or not. My mother and I lived with my grandparents in a cottage along the coast, a bit north of the town-proper. My grandfather was a fisherman all his life. My mother was young when she had me—eighteen. She worked odd jobs, two or three at a time.” His eyes twinkle at me. “Reminds me of someone.”

I smile wryly. “Then you understand how weird it feels for me to not go to work every day.”

“You deserve to relax a bit, Eden,” he replies. “You’ve worked your ass off for years.”

I snort. “Are we pretending this is something other than what it is—a total upending of my life? Jesus, Liam, part of me thinks I should be in a padded room. This can’t possibly be happening.” Resting my head back, I close my eyes. “Maybe I’m already there. I had a psychological break and someone committed me. Right now, I’m strapped to a bed pumped full of drugs. Hallucinating this.”

A fingertip traces my nipple. “Does this feel like a hallucination?”

“Yes.”

He pinches the tight bud, igniting a frisson of lightning between my legs. I gasp, my eyes snapping open.

“How about that? Still wondering?”

I glare at his smug face. “I think you can do better.”

Sliding to his knees beside the tub, he leans forward until his lips graze my ear. “No games right now, dove. Are you ready for me to be inside you again?”

Yes.

No.

“I don’t know,” I whisper.

He nips my earlobe with his teeth before sitting back on his heels. Mussed auburn hair. Eyes flickering between turquoise and cobalt in the candlelight. I watch him through heavy-lidded eyes, a plea pooling on my tongue, barely held back by my teeth.

“I’d never force you,” he says softly. “You know that, don’t you? That I only want to give you what you need?”

I remember this morning, being thrown to the bed, and the seconds before. My inner conflict. My defiance and fury.

I recognize the war inside you.

I’m merely proving a point.

And he had.

Even while hating him, I’d wanted him.

I’m terrified that as the world around me continues to remold itself into something new, he’ll stay at the center of it. That no matter what I learn, what secrets Liam Rourke keeps, I will forever be powerless over what he does to me. Powerless over my need for him.

“I’ll keep you safe, Eden. I swear it.”

I close my eyes and sink beneath the water, remembering the same promise under very different circumstances.