I swallow. “Yeah.”
Lowering his head, he kisses my neck. “I want you to run, Beau.”
My heart stops. When Liam steps back, it takes a few moments for his words to trickle through my sluggish brain. I can see the hard outline of his cock in his jeans.
Oh, hell yeah.
I take off, darting into the formal dining room, half expecting to bump into new furniture there, too.
Liam’s house isn’t big, but it’s laid out in a square with connecting rooms, so I have somewhat of a fighting chance. And if he starts gaining on me, I can just slip out the back door and find somewhere to hide. Maybe in some bushes. Maybe behind Stasi or the dog.
The thought of Liam claiming me in the grass under the stars has blood rushing to my cock. But as much as I want to get caught, I’m enjoying our game of chase.
So much for my anger.
I manage to dodge Liam's capture for several laps, only because he’s not ready to catch me. My breaths are heavy. My head is pounding, but my need for him to fuck me takes priority. I’ll forget about the pain when he’s pounding me into submission.
A dark laugh echoes through the house. “Sounds like you need to do some cardio.”
“Yeah, fuck that,” I shout back.
Glancing behind me, I stumble. Liam’s stalking toward me without a shirt, those lethal muscles flexing. He’s got one hand wrapped around his studded belt to rip it free from his black pants.
Shit. I’m half panicked I’m going to come without even being touched.
Liam breaks into a run, and my heart nearly explodes from my chest. I make it three strides before his arm hooks me. He cradles the side of my head with a hand as he takes me down.
Still, the sudden jolt of his body colliding with mine has my vision blurring. One second, I register that I’m on the floor.
And the next, everything fades to black.
twenty-seven
Liam
Iflip Beau onto his back and drag him under me so our bodies line up. He’s no longer playfully fighting back, and immediately, I know something’s wrong. He appears to be in a daze, not quite present with me.
“Beau?” I smooth a hand along the side of his face.
When his eyes slip back into his head and his body starts to jerk, dread slams into me like a tidal wave.
“Stas,” I call out. “Anastasia!”
I support his head, trying to keep it from smacking against the floor while his body convulses like an electrical current is surging through him. How do I make it stop? How do I fix this?
What the fuck have I done?
Internally, I’m a wreck before Stasi even kneels down beside us. I remove my hand and back away from him.
“He’s having a seizure. Help me get him on his side,” Stasi says.
My brows furrow. I will my hands to touch him again, but they don’t respond. As I stare down at Beau’s spasming body, all I can think about is how I walked in on my dad’s corpse in that same position, foam clinging to his mouth and skin drained of color.
“Liam.” Stasi’s tone is surprisingly firm, snapping me out of a memory I thought I’d purged long ago.
I drop to my knees and help ease Beau onto his side. Stasi holds his head this time. He doesn’t appear to be conscious as she runs her fingers through his hair.
Each passing second feels like an hour at this point. This can’t be normal, right? I have to imagine Stasi would be freaking out, too, if this wasn’t something she was trained to deal with.
