Ava’s POV:
I’d never been in a place like this before.
Liam’s penthouse was… ridiculous. Floor-to-ceiling glass, skyline glittering like we were living inside a snow globe. Everything was black and chrome and rich, but not flashy. Powerful. Cold. Controlled.
Just like him.
Except tonight, he wasn’t cold at all.
He’d brought me here himself—quietly, carefully—like I was something fragile that needed to be handled with both hands. I didn’t even protest. I couldn’t. My entire body was still buzzing with what had just happened, with the adrenaline crash, the taste of fear still fading from my mouth.
I sat on the couch while he poured me a drink. Not too strong. Just enough.
“Are you okay?” he asked, his voice lower than usual. Less polished. Like it was his real voice, the one that didn’t have to play boss or son or heir.
“I will be,” I said. “Thanks to you.”
He looked at me for a long time, like he was trying to figure out if I meant it.
“I’ve already filed the paperwork,” he said. “You’ll have a full restraining order within twenty-four hours. And a legal statement from Duarte Enterprises confirming that he’ll never be permitted in any company space again.”
My eyes burned.
“Thank you,” I whispered.
He sat next to me. Close. But not touching.
“I don’t want you to feel unsafe. Not in my building. Not in my city.”
And just like that—I wanted to tell him everything.
My name. My family. The reason I was even here. The way Jeremy had always loomed over my life like a shadow I couldn’t escape, and how I’d finally outrun him just to fall right back into his path. I wanted to explain it all.
But when I turned to look at Liam, when I saw the way his eyes burned into mine like he could see every fractured part of me—
I didn’t speak.
I kissed him.
Or maybe he kissed me. I don’t even remember.
What I remember is the heat. His mouth crashed into mine like a goddamn tidal wave, and I was drowning in it. His hands were everywhere, one cupping my cheek, the other gripping my waist like he was afraid I’d slip away. His tongue was insistent, sliding against mine in a way that made me moan into him.
We didn’t stop this time. Fuck no. He pulled me into his lap, my legs straddling him, and I could feel him already hard and straining against his zipper, pressing into my core. I ground down on him, greedy and desperate, and he groaned, his hands sliding down to grab my ass and pull me closer.
“Ava,” he growled against my lips, his breath hot and ragged. “You’re killing me.”
I didn’t answer. Couldn’t. His hands were everywhere—tugging at my clothes, his fingers skimming my skin like he was mapping every inch of me. My shirt was off in seconds, tossed somewhere on the floor, and his mouth was on my neck, sucking and biting in a way that had me arching into him.
“Bedroom,” I gasped, barely able to form the word.
He didn’t need to be told twice. He stood up, lifting me with him like I weighed nothing, and carried me down the hall. His bedroom was sleek and masculine—cool tones, sharp edges—but it might as well have been on fire when he laid me down on the bed. He followed me down, his body heavy on top of mine, and kissed me again, deep and filthy.
His hands were relentless, sliding up my thighs, pushing my skirt up around my waist. His fingers found my panties, already soaked through, and he groaned at the feel of it. “Jesus,” he muttered, his voice wrecked. “You’re dripping for me.”
“Yes,” I breathed, shameless and needy.
He didn’t waste time. He hooked his fingers into the waistband of my panties and yanked them down, tossing them aside. His mouth was on me in an instant, his tongue licking a hot stripe up my slit before circling my clit in slow, torturous strokes. I cried out, my hands fisting in the sheets as he worked me over with that sinful mouth of his.
“Liam,” I moaned, my hips bucking against his face. “Fuck, don’t stop.”
He didn’t. His tongue pressed harder, faster, and I could feel myself unraveling under him. He slid two fingers inside me, curling them just right, and I came with a scream, my body shaking as he drank me in.
But he wasn’t done. Not even close. He kissed his way back up my body, his lips leaving a trail of fire on my skin. When he reached my mouth again, I could taste myself on him, sweet and salty and perfect.
“I need to be inside you,” he growled, his voice rough with need.
“Then do it,” I said, my voice shaking.
He didn’t need to be told twice. He kicked off his pants, springing it free—thick and hard and leaking precum—and he lined himself up with my entrance. He pushed in slowly, inch by agonizing inch, until he was buried to the hilt.
“Liam,” I whimpered, my nails digging into his back. “You feel so good.”
He started to move then, his hips snapping into mine with a rhythm that had me seeing stars. Every thrust sent a jolt of pleasure through me, and I wrapped my legs around his waist, pulling him deeper.
“You’re so tight,” he groaned, his forehead pressed against mine. “So fucking perfect.”
I couldn’t speak. Couldn’t think. All I could do was feel him—his cock filling me, his hands gripping my hips, his breath hot on my skin. He reached between us, his thumb finding my clit again, and I came hard, my body clenching around him like a vice.
He followed me over the edge, his thrusts stuttering as he spilled inside me with a low groan. He stayed there for a moment, his body heavy on mine, before rolling onto his back and pulling me with him.
We didn’t speak. Didn’t need to. His arms were around me, holding me close, and for the first time in a long time, I felt safe. Whole.
We fell asleep tangled together. My head on his chest. One of his arms still around me, as if his body hadn’t gotten the memo that we were safe now.
And maybe I let myself believe that we were.
Just for a little while.
The ping woke me up.
A soft, cruel buzz from my phone on the bedside table. I blinked against the morning light, smiled a little, thinking about how wrecked I felt in the best possible way, and reached for it without thinking.
Google Alert: Liam Duarte
The headline made my stomach drop.
“Liam Duarte seen reuniting with former flame Lindsey Ashford at exclusive Valencia lunch. Sources confirm wedding plans are in motion as CEO finally chooses his bride.”
There was a photo.
Liam, kissing her cheek. His father, smiling at their side.
The caption: ‘An alliance years in the making.’
I sat there for a full minute, phone shaking in my hand.
And then I got dressed in silence. No tears. Just movement.
I found a pen in his kitchen drawer, grabbed a sheet from a notepad that said DUARTE PENTHOUSE in embossed gold letters, and wrote the only thing I could think.
You’re just like the rest of them. This is my formal resignation. -A