Our Secret Was Meant to Stay Hidden — Until That Night

 The moment I saw Liam standing in the dim glow of the porch light, his shirt clinging to his chest from the summer rain, I knew I was in trouble. We’d spent years dancing around this—lingering touches, stolen glances, the way his voice dropped when he said my name.

But tonight, with the storm rolling in and the house empty, something between us finally snapped.

He reached out to brush a wet strand of hair from my face, his fingers lingering on my cheek. "You’re shivering," he murmured, but the heat in his eyes told me he knew it wasn’t from the cold. My breath hitched as his thumb traced my bottom lip, his other hand settling on my waist, pulling me closer. "We shouldn’t…" he whispered, but his body was already pressing into mine, erasing every inch of space between us.

The first kiss was 

slow, torturous—like he was savoring the taste of me after years of craving it. His lips were soft but demanding, and when I moaned into his mouth, his grip tightened, pulling me flush against him. I could feel every hard line of his body, the way his heart pounded against my chest. "Tell me to stop," he breathed, but I fisted his shirt instead, dragging him inside.

The hallway wall met my back as his hands roamed—mapping my curves, slipping under my dress, his touch branding me like fire.

 His mouth moved to my neck, sucking lightly before biting down, and I gasped, arching into him. "You have no idea how long I’ve wanted this," he growled, his voice rough with need. The way he looked at me—like I was everything he’d ever wanted—sent a thrill straight to my core.

When he lifted me, my legs wrapped around his waist instinctively, and he carried me to his room without breaking our kiss. The way he laid me down—gentle but possessive—made my heart race. His hands, his mouth, his body worshipped me like I was something sacred, and when he finally slid inside me, the groan he let out was pure, unfiltered desire. Every thrust was slow, deep, like he was memorizing the way we fit together.

Afterward, as we lay tangled in the sheets, his fingers traced lazy circles on my bare hip. "This changes everything," I whispered. He turned to face me, his expression raw and open. "Yeah," he said, kissing me softly. "But I don’t regret it." And in that moment, I knew—this wasn’t just lust. This was love.