He looks at my face, then down. I gently place my hand over his. He’s gone flaccid. He’s probably terrified if what I think is true and the only person who’s ever touched him before was his father.
I put his other hand between my legs, showing him how turned on I am. He strokes himself again. I don’t grip him hard. I let my hand ride lightly on top of his. He thickens again.
I think he’s amused that he’s hard. He works himself faster. I have to tighten my grip a little to keep up. While I’ve given my fair share of hand jobs, none have ever been this intimate. This meaningful.
He stiffens. I can tell he’s close. He gazes at me with half-closed eyes.
“That’s it,” I say, wanting it to be my voice that pushes him over.
His hips buck a few times, then he grunts loudly and stills, hot come spurting over our hands.
I lie down beside him, wiping my hand on the sheet. His lips are pursed. He breathes in and out heavily. His hand falls limp on the bed.
He turns his head toward me and smiles.
I bask in the feel of victory. This may have been the oddest sexual experience I’ve ever had, but I get the feeling it might have been the most normal one for him. In time maybe we can learn to meet somewhere in the middle.
Chapter Thirty-one
Liam
As the sun rises and shines through the window, I gaze at her sleeping next to me. I haven’t gotten a lick of shuteye. At first, her head was on my chest. Then she fell asleep and rolled off sometime early. When it happened, I missed her. She was six inches away, but I missed her. She looked so peaceful. She always looks peaceful. It amazes me how some people have such normal lives that they can just sleep.
I haven’t had a decent night’s sleep in thirteen years.
Today is Luke’s birthday. I should be remembering him, but all I can think about is how she had her hand on mine. Through all the years and all the women, nobody ever suggested doing it that way. Then again, I’ve never let anyone get as close to me as Ella. I can’t imagine many women wanting to put up with my deep layers of shit. Why does she? I know she’s not in it because of the band. Or the potential for fame and fortune—that’s not her. What’s so goddamn special about a kid from Stamford who’s so fucked up he can barely see straight? She could have so much more.
Her eyes open sleepily and her lips form into a lazy smile. “Morning,” she mumbles.
“Good morning.”
She scoots closer but doesn’t touch me. “Last night was—”
“Fucking strange.”
Her smile falls.
I lift on an elbow. “I mean, it was okay, but strange.”
“I don’t want to push you to do anything you don’t want to, Liam.”
My head falls back on the pillow. “That’s what guys usually say to girls. This is so messed up.”
She reaches for my hand. “I like being with you. If a little strange goes along with that, I’m okay with it.”
“Why, El? Why in the hell would a girl like you ever want to be with a guy like me?”
“Are you asking me why I like you?”
“I guess I am.”
“I once heard someone say we don’t choose who we fall, um … like.”
I sit up and turn away. That’s not what she was going to say. Fuck. I run a hand through my hair and swing my legs off the bed.
“Liam.” Her hand touches my back, and I flinch. She immediately removes it.
“I don’t know what you think is happening here, but you can’t fix me, Ella. No one can.”
“That’s not true.”
“Is that why you like me? You see me as some kind of project? Something broken in need of fixing?”
“Of course not.”
I get up and pull on my sweatpants. “We have to pack. We leave in an hour.”
“Sit down please.”
“Why?”
“Because you asked me a question, and I haven’t answered yet.”
I sit.
“You want to know why I like you? Maybe it is because you’re different. You’re about as far removed as possible from any man I’ve ever dated. Pretty much the opposite of Corey. You’re talented, intriguing, mysterious, but also gentle and kind. When you’re performing, whether it’s for me or hundreds of people, you’re passionate. Maybe I like you because you saved me that day on the sidewalk. Maybe it’s because