Page 110 of Fall For Me
“I love you,” Liam whispers before kissing me. Before showing me—with his eyes, his mouth, his hands, his entire body—that nothing about us is fake anymore. Not our marriage, not our connection, not this union of hearts and bodies and souls.
We draw together with sighs and whispers, learning each other’s rhythms, discovering the places that make us gasp and arch and tremble. And when we finally join completely, it truly feels like coming home, like finding someone I didn’t know I was looking for until I stumbled into an unknown town on a dark and stormy night.
38
LIAM
Peyton is curled against my chest, one leg slung over my hip, her breath a slow, steady pulse against my collarbone. The same position we wake up in most mornings, only now we’re naked.
My heart rate is still elevated. My lungs haven’t fully recovered. Every muscle in my body is loose and wonderfully heavy. And my mind is quiet. Work, my family, my usual worries have disappeared into the background while I’m holding her.
It’s just us here. Her weight against me. The tickle of her hair against my jaw. The way her fingers trace absent patterns on my ribs.
I press my lips to her forehead, beneath the battered ring of roses still crowning her head.
Peyton sighs and tilts her chin up as if she’s about to make another momentous declaration. Even if, after what we said to each other, after what we just did, I don’t see how she could top it.
Instead, she smirks. “Am I allowed to bring my phone into the bedroom now?”
I laugh. She’s always unexpected. “That’s what’s on your mind right now?”
She presses a finger to my chest. “Do you know how many memes I missed because my phone was exiled to the hallway?”
I kiss the top of her head. Then her temple. Then the bridge of her nose.
“You’re the only person in the world who I’d share a room with and let have a phone.”
Her grin turns smug. I roll away, bending my upper body over the edge of the bed to fish my phone from the back pocket of my jeans that are scattered on the floor, and pull myself back up.
The screen lights up to a barrage of notifications. Missed calls from my mother, mostly.
I clear them with a swipe and turn to Peyton. “Do you want to take a selfie?”
She blinks. “When did you become the selfie type?”
“Never. But I want to send one to Lila.”
I prop myself up against the headboard. “She was at my parents’ house. Mom invited her to the vow renewal. She made me promise to text her when I got you back.”
Peyton sits up, the sheet slipping to her waist, exposing distracting curves. My attention drifts. I’m lost staring before she scolds me.
“Eyes up here.”
I drag my gaze to hers. “Lila wanted to check on you,” I continue heroically despite the temptations she puts in front of me. “But my mom wouldn’t tell her where she had you stashed. She was about to storm every room in the house when I got there and got your text.”
“I’m sorry I made you worry.”
“Don’t be, it’s not on you, remember?”
Peyton nods and glances down at herself. “But you want to traumatize Lila with a photo of us naked in bed?”
“Not with anything indecent exposed.” I hold up the phone. “But it would sort of… summarize the situation.”
Peyton smiles. She yanks the sheet up to her chin and drops her head on my shoulder, tipping her face toward the camera and flashing the goofiest grin—teeth bared, nose scrunched, eyes crinkling.
I bend my head closer and snap the photo.
My hair is wrecked, my jaw dark with stubble, and I don’t recognize the sheer happiness on my face. I’ve never seen it before. Beside me, Peyton resembles a deranged chipmunk. It’s the least flattering selfie, and the best photo I’ve ever taken.
