Chapter 21

L iam had been quiet all night, but not in a distant way. In fact, he'd been almost unnervingly present. Unnerving in the sense that Jazz liked it.

Throughout dinner, he'd kept an arm around her shoulders, paying more attention to her than their food. He hadn't even wavered when India had called and texted, and Jazz actually believed he didn't care. Which made zero sense, because she could (and would, if requested) recite the name of every lover who'd ever wronged her and would kill to run into any of them so she could use some of the carefully rehearsed comebacks she hadn't thought of in the moment.

After dinner, he'd taken her to a place that was a perfect combination of the two of them, and watched everything she'd done with a look of wonder. Every splash and smear of paint, every drop of glitter, every pompom thrown at the wall like a snowball. It was like she was creating a goddamn masterpiece and every step fascinated him .

Their final painting hadn't been close to a masterpiece, but she couldn't wait to see it once it had been sealed and varnished. Jazz had found an old red lipstick in the bottom of her purse and pressed a kiss mark above her signature, then forced Liam to do the same. It might not be a grand work of art, but it was theirs.

Between dinner, painting, and Liam's undivided attention, the whole thing had felt almost like a date. Except a date where the other person was actually interested in getting to know her and not just what was between her legs. It had been the perfect night, and Jazz's heart was a tangled, confused mess.

She pushed that aside as Liam followed her into her apartment, choosing to focus on the rest of her body: those feelings were loud and clear.

"Shower?" Liam asked, dropping her purse and the bag of leftovers from dinner on the couch. They'd ordered extra dessert, fully intending to work up an appetite when they got home.

"Shower," she agreed, leading him to her bedroom.

The overalls had done an okay job of protecting their clothes, but they were both still covered in paint, glitter, and assorted crafting materials Jazz didn't even remember seeing. She plucked a feather from Liam's hair, causing glitter to sprinkle over his face.

He swiped at his face. "I'm pretty sure we're going to be covered in this for the rest of our lives."

"Whoops." She had been just a touch overzealous on the glitter side of things.

She lifted her t-shirt over her head and tossed it on top of her laundry pile. It was relatively unscathed, but if the flecks of paint that had slipped under the overalls stained, she didn't mind. Her shorts were totally paint free, and she kicked them off, turning around to check out how much paint was on her skin in the full-length mirror.

"What's that? Are you hurt?"

"What?" Jazz followed Liam's gaze down to her hip and stilled. Fuck. How the hell had she forgotten that? And how was she supposed to explain it? "Oh. It's nothing. I'm fine."

Liam squinted at the white bandage, barely hiding the clear tattoo covering. "Is that a new tattoo? When the fuck did you have time to get a tattoo? I literally saw you naked this morning."

Jazz stepped back, wringing her hands. "It's possible I made a really impulsive post-yoga decision."

"And forgot to mention it?"

"Maybe," she replied with a grimace. "Okay, here's the thing: it's really unhinged, and I know it's really unhinged, but I saw the design in the window and I was thinking about how amazing last night was and how you got me to open up to you, and you opened up to me and I—" She cut herself off, her sentences were running together into one big jumble. "Okay, it's probably easier if I just show you, but again, I know this is a highly questionable decision."

Liam watched warily as she peeled the white bandage away. She watched his face transform, his eyes widening, jaw going slack, as he dropped to his knees to look closer.

"Holy shit," he murmured, brushing the skin around the tattoo with his thumb. "This… I don't even know what to say."

She winced, rubbing her forehead with paint-flecked fingers. "In my defense, I can't really be held accountable for my behavior less than twenty-four hours after you made me come for the first time in a decade and—what are you doing?" She stilled as Liam hooked his thumbs in the waistband of her underwear.

"Hold on to the wall, darling."

"The wall? Wha—oh fuck."

Snoopy. She'd tattooed goddamn Snoopy on her hip for him . Liam was careful not to touch the still fresh tattoo as he gripped her hips, burying his face against her pussy and devouring her.

It was covered by protective plastic film—which was probably just as well considering there had been a chance of it getting covered in paint—but the skin around the dainty design was red and tender looking. It wasn't a big tattoo—maybe two inches tall, with Snoopy sitting down, holding a book. Though most of it was just black line work, Snoopy's book featured a pink heart. A romance book.

What the hell did this mean for what Jasmine felt about him? He wasn't entirely sure, but it could only be good.

He nudged her back against the wall, lifting her leg over his shoulder, opening her wider to him. He was relentless, unable to get enough of her. She moaned, shaking in his grip, while he circled her clit with the flat of his tongue, fucking her with two fingers. Seeing her come last night had been incredible; but now he wanted to taste it.

She jumped when he grazed her clit with his teeth, his name spilling from her with a slew of curses.

Jasmine knotted her hands in his hair. "Liam," she groaned, tugging him just hard enough that he pulled back. "What about rule number five?"

"Now you want to follow the rules?" he asked, dragging his gaze up her body. Her skin was flushed, her chest rising and falling as she panted. He hadn't noticed, but, at some point, she'd taken her bra off, and her nipple piercings glinted in the light.

"You told me I had to behave in order to get your cock in my mouth. This is me behaving," she said through gritted teeth.

"Wow, I hardly recognize you."

She growled at him, but it turned into a whimper, her mouth dropping open and her head falling back as he curled his fingers inside her.

"Okay, let's stick to the rules. Tell me about your exes. Anyone serious? Anyone I'm going to have to fight off if they come trying to win you back?" It seemed fitting, given that she knew all about his ex—and since said ex had come out of the woodwork.

"You want me to talk about my exes while you— fuck —fucking finger me?"

"Give me some credit, darling. I can multitask. I'm still listening." He winked and didn't give her the chance to argue before leaning in and running his tongue over her clit.

"Oh fuck. Okay. Um… Shit, there's really no one worth mentioning." Her words were slurred slightly, her voice breathy and jumpy. "I've never really had anything serious, just people I've dated for a few months here and there who weren't looking to commit to anything."

"Why?" he asked, pulling back just enough to ask before turning his attention to her pussy again. He withdrew his fingers, replacing them with his tongue and pressing one finger slowly inside her ass.

Jasmine cried out, clenching around his finger. "Why have I never had anything serious or why has no one ever wanted to commit?"

"Both," he managed without pulling away. He was pretty sure he'd never tasted anything as fucking perfect as Jasmine, and he wasn't interested in giving up a single second more than he had to.

She must have been able to make it out, though, because after a moment, she answered. "I don't know… I mean, I'm not great with expectations since I never seem to be able to meet them, so I guess I've been drawn to people who have low expectations of me."

Jesus, he despised her parents .

"And it's been hard to have anything serious when I haven't been able to trust anyone to tell them about the orgasm thing—until you." Her voice cracked, the last word falling away with a whimper. Until him . That deserved a reward. Liam pressed a second finger inside her ass and she gasped.

"And okay, sure, I've spent years telling everyone I didn't want anything serious, but I'm pretty sure I've been lying to myself. It's just scary to say I want something like that in case no one wants me like that—oh fuck, baby. Fuck ."

Jasmine's whole body tensed, the orgasm ripping through her when Liam brushed a finger over her clit. He was right: as beautiful as she looked when she really let go, she tasted even better. He only let up when her body slumped against the wall and he wasn't entirely sure she could hold herself up.

Liam's body ached as he stood up—maybe he should have taken her up on the offer to join her at yoga. But then she wouldn't have the tattoo. He trailed his fingers lightly across it as he took her in his arms, swallowing down the emotion thick in his throat.

"Are you alright?"

"Mhmm," she replied sleepily.

"Feel better getting it out?"

Her eyes fluttered open, hazy and dark. "Talking about my feelings is unsurprisingly better with your tongue inside me."

"Oh no, I guess I'll have to do that every time. Such a hardship," he joked with a smile, and Jasmine laughed, brushing a finger from one dimple to the other, across his lips.

"My turn to ask you something."

He tucked her hair back behind her ear. "Before you do, I find it completely unbelievable that everyone you meet doesn't want you like that, darling. You deserve everything you want and so much more." And I want to be the one to give it to you . He couldn't tell if she heard the unspoken words, but her shoulders tensed for a split second before she relaxed back into him. "Now it's your turn. Ask away."

She tilted her head, searching his face as she asked, "If you'd picked up the phone earlier, and India told you she'd made a mistake and she wanted to get back together, would you take her back?"

"No." He didn't even need to think about it.

"Why?"

Because she's not you . But it wasn't that, not entirely. Even if Liam hadn't started falling for Jasmine the second he'd laid eyes on her in his dad's office, he wouldn't have taken India back. She'd broken him completely without breaking a sweat, and for what? Neither of them had been as happy as they pretended to be when they were together.

"I don't miss her. At all. I miss parts of the life I had back then—the museum, mostly—but I don't even think she's crossed my mind since just after the wedding. What we had wasn't like this. It wasn't comfortable, and easy, and trusting. It was just all we knew."

"I hate her for hurting you," Jasmine said, laying her head on his chest. "But I'm glad I got to meet the version of you who knows he deserves better than that."

"Likewise."

"Now about me behaving…"

Jasmine stepped away and dragged him toward the bathroom, tearing his clothes off while the shower warmed up, then tugged him under the spray. The water spilled over their bodies, and Liam watched the light reflecting on the water droplets as they drizzled down Jasmine's skin. He wanted to lick each and every one of them off, but she didn't give him the chance, falling to her knees and pushing him back against the wall.

"You called me your toy once," Jasmine mused, wrapping her fist around his cock and drawing a grunt from his lips.

"And you liked it."

She licked her lips. "Maybe. But words are just words unless you back them up. You want me to be your toy, baby? Then fucking use me like one."

She was going to be the death of him. Liam leaned down and clasped her chin. "Be careful what you wish for. You think you can handle that?"

He brushed his thumb over her lips and she caught it between her teeth, biting hard enough that Liam pulled it back.

"You don't scare me."

"We'll see." He released her chin and slapped her lightly across the mouth. "Open up."

Jasmine's eyes glittered as she opened her mouth, her lids fluttering as he slowly pressed his cock between her lips. She moaned, moving her tongue side to side over him as he pushed to the back of her throat. It was an exercise in control to take it slowly, easing her into it. But Liam knew Jasmine well enough to know she wouldn't tap out if she was uncomfortable. She was too fucking stubborn for that, so he watched her reactions like a hawk, testing the back of her throat with the head of his cock.

Of course, this was Jasmine he was dealing with, and patience wasn't in her wheelhouse. Her eyes flashed in frustration and she tried to move her head, taking him further. Liam fisted her hair, pulling his cock back until he was resting on her tongue.

"Uh-uh. Good toys hold still, Jasmine. Do you want me to fuck your mouth? To treat you like the desperate little brat you are?" His voice was low, breathy, every word a fucking challenge not to just fuck her.

Jasmine's eyes widened, her expression somewhere between fear and delight. She nodded as much as she could while he was holding her hair so tightly.

"Then fucking behave," he warned, tightening his grip and thrusting hard into her mouth. Jasmine moaned around his cock, struggling against his grip and looking damn happy about it.

The water pounded on them, mingling with the tears streaming from Jasmine's eyes. She breathed in through her nose, spluttering and choking on his cock as she inhaled the water. But she didn't falter. If anything, she sank deeper and deeper into her pliant state.

"God, I fucking love it when you cry for me. So fucking pretty," Liam groaned and Jasmine's eyes flamed in a challenge. He'd teetered too close to praise.

She ran her hands up his thighs. He expected her to scratch him as a punishment. She wouldn't edge him; he knew she wanted his cum as much as he wanted to give it to her.

He didn't expect her to press a finger into his ass. Liam's head snapped back, connecting with the wall as Jasmine curled her finger inside him. She had small hands, and there was barely a sting as she massaged him. With her other hand, she cupped his balls, squeezing hard enough to make him curse, but not so hard it was painful. He clenched around her finger, his fist shaking, tugging hard on her hair.

Jasmine hummed, and he lost it, coming down her throat with a garbled cry that sounded something like her name as fire washed over him. She'd fucking obliterated him. When his hold on her hair loosened, his muscles giving way, she released his balls and gripped his hip, holding him to her face, drinking him down. She didn't stop sucking him, lapping at him, fucking him with her finger, until there was nothing left of him.

When she pulled back from him, he collapsed to his knees, grasping her face and ignoring the saliva and cum dripping from her mouth as he kissed her fiercely. He held her to him in a vise grip, breaking their kiss but pressing their foreheads together.

"Fuck, Jasmine," he whispered, utterly spent.

Jasmine laughed through panting breaths, grinning from ear to ear. "I really should behave more often."