Liam stared at Lana, watching her retreat into the wardrobe with a small, annoyed frown on her face. The knock earlier had shattered the moment between them like glass. His hand had been at the back of her bra, seconds away from unhooking it, his body already responding to her warmth, her touch, her moans—and then, Knock Knock!—just like that, it was gone.
He clicked his tongue, eyes trailing to the door again as if expecting it to knock once more. "Cockblock of the year," he muttered under his breath.
The tension had been molten between them, and now it was like someone had thrown cold water over both their heads. Lana wasn't saying anything—just searching through the wardrobe, her movements sharp, almost mechanical.
Liam sighed and shook his head, rubbing a hand down his face. He needed to clear his mind. Maybe get some answers.
