05: Revenge Part 02

The wait felt like an eternity. Each tick of my internal clock echoed the growing anxiety within me. What am I doing? I thought, the question a mantra in my mind. But then, the door swung open, and Liam stood there, leaning against the frame with an air of casual confidence that sent a shiver down my spine.

He was dressed in black ripped jeans and a loose-fitting black long-sleeved shirt. His dark hair was slicked back, emphasizing the sharp angles of his face. He was even more attractive than I remembered. More… dangerous. Seeing him like this, in his element, amplified my nervousness tenfold. He looked me up and down, his gaze lingering on me for a moment too long.

“Ava,” he said, his voice a low rumble. “You look… stunning.”

The compliment, though expected, still sent a jolt of something unexpected through me. He was playing the game, of course. Liam Moran, the notorious playboy, knew exactly what to say to make a woman feel special. I reminded myself of his reputation, of the countless women who had fallen for his charm. I wouldn’t be one of them. This was about revenge, pure and simple.

“You’ve changed your eye color,” he commented, his eyes narrowing slightly.

I blinked, surprised. “What?”

“Your eyes,” he repeated, a hint of amusement in his voice. “You have heterochromia, right? You always hide them behind colored contacts.”

My breath hitched. How did he know that? It was a small detail, something I rarely mentioned. Even Gabriel hadn’t noticed for the first few months of our relationship. The fact that Liam had picked up on it, that he had noticed me, sent another unexpected flutter through my chest. I pushed the feeling down, telling myself it was just his Playboy charm working its magic.

“Yeah, so?” I replied, trying to sound nonchalant.

He shrugged a slow, deliberate movement that somehow managed to be both casual and suggestive. “Just an observation. They’re beautiful, by the way. You shouldn’t hide them.”

I scoffed internally. Beautiful. He was laying it on thick. But even as I told myself not to fall for it, a small part of me, a vulnerable part I had tried to bury deep, felt a flicker of warmth at his words. It had been a long time since anyone had truly seen me.

“Look,” I said, trying to steer the conversation away from personal details. “Let’s just… get this over with.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Get what over with?”

I hesitated, suddenly feeling awkward. “This,” I gestured vaguely between us. “You know… the… thing.”

He smirked, a knowing glint in his eyes. “The ‘thing’?”

I hated how flustered he made me feel. I was supposed to be the wronged party here, the one in control. But Liam had a way of turning the tables, of making me feel exposed and vulnerable.

“Look,” I blurted out, the words tumbling out in a rush. “I’m not… I’m not very good at this. At… sex.” The confession felt humiliating, but I needed him to understand. I needed him to know that this wasn’t some game to me. “I’m… broken, I guess.”

The words hung in the air, heavy with unspoken insecurities. Gabriel had mentioned it a few times, his criticisms laced with a mixture of frustration and disdain. He had compared me to other women, women who moaned and writhed in pleasure, women who seemed to effortlessly embody a sexuality that felt foreign to me. I had never understood what all the fuss was about. My experience with intimacy was limited, confined to Gabriel and a brief, awkward encounter with a high school boyfriend. Neither had exactly been… earth-shattering.

Liam’s expression softened, just slightly. He reached out and gently tucked a stray strand of hair behind my ear. His touch was surprisingly light, feather-like, and sent a shiver down my spine. It was a completely different sensation than Gabriel’s touch, which had always felt… uncomfortable, almost clinical. Where Gabriel’s touch had made me feel exposed and judged, Liam’s touch… sparked something within me, a flicker of something I couldn’t quite name.

He leaned in, his face close to mine. “Don’t say that,” he whispered, his breath warm against my skin. He tilted my chin up, his eyes searching mine. “You’re not broken, Ava. You’re just… waiting to be discovered.”

He moved closer, his lips brushing against mine. I stiffened, pulling back slightly. Kissing him felt… too intimate. Too real. This was supposed to be a one-night stand, a means to get back at Gabriel. It wasn’t supposed to be… anything more. Kissing him would blur the lines and make it more personal than I wanted it to be.

Instead of being offended by my rejection, Liam simply smirked. He didn’t push it. He just… kept going. His hand moved down my arm, sending another wave of shivers through me. His soft lips traced down my neck. He knew where to touch, how to touch, in a way that Gabriel never had. His touch was electrifying, awakening sensations I had never experienced before. Goosebumps started to form on my skin. It was like he was playing a symphony on my skin, each note resonating deep within me.

I closed my eyes, trying to focus on the anger, on the betrayal. But Liam’s touch was a powerful distraction, a seductive melody that threatened to drown out the voice of reason in my head. He was playing me like an instrument, and I, against my better judgment, was starting to enjoy the music.

His touch, gentle and demanding, explored the curves and hollows of my body with an almost reverent curiosity. As his grip tightened, a thrill shot through me, a mixture of anticipation and something akin to fear. He lifted me effortlessly, his lips trailing along my neck, his breath hot against my skin. I gasped, my hands instinctively clutching at his shoulders as he began to climb the stairs.

The world tilted, my senses overwhelmed by the feel of his arms around me, the scent of his cologne, the rapid beat of my own heart. We reached the top of the stairs, and he carried me down a hallway, the darkness punctuated by the soft glow of candlelight filtering from beneath a door. He pushed the door open with his shoulder, and we stepped into his bedroom.

It was… enormous. A vast space that spoke of wealth and indulgence. A balcony overlooked the city, the lights twinkling like fallen stars against the velvet backdrop of the night sky. The room was dimly lit, candles placed strategically around the room casting flickering shadows that danced across the walls. The effect was undeniably romantic. And that, strangely, made me uneasy. This wasn’t supposed to be romantic. This was supposed to be… revenge. A quick, clinical transaction. Not… this.