“I didn’t agree to this,” I mutter.
“And yet you’re here. I have one more artist coming in tonight who needs help.”
I let out a quiet chuckle. “Ah. So you just want me for my musical talent.”
Liam’s dark eyes slide down my body. “Might as well use you while you’re bumming it at my house.”
Delighted by this flirty exchange, I walk right up to him. He’s got a couple inches on me and a lot more mass, but I’ve never been scared of him hurting me. At least, not without consent.
“You gonna pay me?”
Liam licks his lips. “Oh, I’ll pay you.”
“In sexual favors?”
Is this what I was hoping for when I reached out to him? Someone to reignite a spark inside me I haven’t felt in years? Someone to remind me I’m alive? Or was I hoping some of his talent would rub off on me?
He flashes a wicked grin. “And you used to call me the deviant?”
“Oh, you are. But our freak matches.”
He brings his mouth closer to mine, his breath warm against my lips. “You accept my paychecks, and sex is on the table.”
My pulse leaps. I know he’s just teasing, but it’s the most commitment I’ve ever gotten out of him.
Cocking my head to the side, I ask, “And what about Stasi?”
His expression twists. “What about her?”
Maybe I’m hoping I can push his buttons enough to send me away because I obviously don’t have the strength to do it myself.
“Why aren’t you with her?” I ask.
Liam eases back on a long breath. “You know why.”
“Because you don’t date. Yeah, I know. But have you ever tried?”
His eyes darken as he contemplates this. “I grew up without a reference to what a healthy relationship looks like, Beau. I’m not about to subject anyone to my deficiencies.”
Deficiencies. What a horrible word.
I bring our bodies together, my hands resting between us on his abs. He tenses and gently pushes me away, but not before giving my arms a squeeze in silent apology.
I want to keep testing him, but it’s clear something from his childhood still has its claws in him. If only he could see what I see in him. How deeply he cares for others, even if he doesn’t vocalize it.
“Would you be upset if I hung out with her?”
He moves over to the chair behind his mixer and sits down. “Why would I?”
“Wouldn’t you be jealous?”
“No,” he says simply.
Liar. He chased us upstairs that night of the party.
Tilting my head to the side, I ask, “So I can date her?”
His eyes flash with murderous intent, and my heartbeat skips. “You fuck her up, and I’ll disown you.”
