Oh, mercy, he wanted to. He wanted to cross that line, but what if he messed it up? What if he ruined the one chance he had to make an impression on her, leaving them –and their relationship– both scarred and ruined.
“Should I?”
And she closed her eyes, frowning, before drawing in a deep breath. He couldn’t help but ask the question because she seemed so untouchable, so ladylike…
“Never mind, just open the door,” she whispered a second later, opening her eyes and looking at him. It wasn’t anger or impatience. It was so much worse – disappointment. Raw, quiet, searing disappointment that hit harder than any body check ever had. It felt like someone had reached inside of him, grabbed something vital, and twisted. He was paralyzed by the way that singular look could shut him down, and it took a moment to realize she was still speaking. “Just open the door, Liam. If you aren’t sure of what you want, then…” her voice trailed off as she met his gaze, her eyes shiny and looked pained.
“You know, when you are on the ice, you are aggressive. You go after the puck – but not me. Why can’t you do the same with me?” Ashley whispered to him, almost silent and unspoken plea between them.
And something snapped within him.
He did the unthinkable.
Without thinking – no plan, zero finesse – just a rush of need, regret, and longing, Liam did the only thing that made sense to him. He swore under his breath, lunged forward, and yanked her bodily into his arms like he was drowning and she was the oxygen he needed desperately to survive.
They collided awkwardly, his balance faltering as if he were a rookie all over again in the small space. The back of her knees hit the airplane’s toilet, causing her to collapse onto the seat; at the same his head hit the slanted roof of the bathroom almost hard enough to see stars – and he was somehow, impossibly, half on top of her, chest heaving with intense emotions within him, and they both looked at each other with wide-eyed shock. Her face was so close to his, but they’d missed one another in the sloppiest attempt at a kiss ever recorded.
And then burst out laughing.
Whatever that was – it wasn’t exactly an embrace or a kiss.
It was ridiculous. It was messy. It was strangely perfect to crackthe ice between them in a way that seemed to reach them both. Maybe he could get points for enthusiasm?
“What was that?” she gasped, chuckling so hard her shoulders shook.
“I was showing you my ‘worst,’” he offered sheepishly, brushing a hand over her hair affectionately before cupping her cheek. “Things can only get better from here, honey. I promise.”
“I guess that’s one way of looking at things,” she said with a smile that made his chest ache - not from pain, but something softer, more visceral, something so much bigger and deeper within his soul.
He helped her to her feet, careful now, as if she were something delicate, precious. He backed away slightly in the cramped space but kept an arm tight around her waist, unwilling to let her go completely.
“You know this place is full of germs and practically an outhouse in the sky.”
“Not exactly romantic,” he agreed, grinning as he leaned closer, his nose brushing gently against hers in a tender motion. Her breath mingled with his, their smiles touching long before their lips did again. “But we’re alone.”
“We are.”
“Maybe we should try this again…?” His voice was barely a whisper, but the meaning behind his words vibrated with intent. He wasn’t really asking the question – not really. This wasn’t uncertainty but flirtation. A promise curling in the space between them, and she was responding to it. Her eyes softened, and even her body in his arms seemed to melt against him, igniting something hopeful and possessive inside of him.
“Possibly,” she murmured back, her voice quiet, but therewas no hesitancy to her either. She was responding to him, to the shift in his tone, this moment reshaping everything between them. She leaned into him, fitting so perfectly against him, her fingers brushing lightly against the nape of his neck. That single touch sent a jolt of awareness racing up his spine, fierce and flaring like an electric spark. His heart kicked in his chest, missing a beat and then pounding to catch up. He heard her soft intake of breath, recognizing that she felt whatever this was between them, too.
He wasn’t asking again.
No more hesitations.
Not now. Not ever.
If his wife wanted him to take charge, to lead them forward into whatever their relationship was becoming – then by golly, he was more than ready. No more second-guessing. No more waiting for the perfect moment.
This wasthatmoment.
His head dipped slowly, savoring the anticipation flaring to life in her eyes as his lips brushed over hers with a featherlight pressure. It was meant to tease, to tempt – but even that brief contact between them unleashed a storm of awareness. His nerves fired like fireworks set off into the dark, brilliant, unrelenting, and oh, so beautiful. Each second he kissed her unraveled something tight inside, something he hadn’t realized he was hanging onto protectively.
He treasured every sigh, every slight tremble she gave him, each tiny shudder that she offered, trembling in his arms. It wasn’t just a kiss – it was her letting him in, past her shields, giving him a glimpse of her soul and what she was feeling. She was shedding every single one of those last fragile threads that had held her back, and he felt it in the way she kissed him back – like she wanted to know what it would feel like to be his.
“I want us,” he whispered openly against her mouth, tasting the emotion in the air as much as the softness of her lips. He pulled her closer, the words trembling in his chest as they escaped him. “Let’s kiss, let’s hold each other, let’s figure out what our marriage looks like between us – together.”
“Yes,” she breathed, nodding without hesitation. “I want this, all of this.”
