Chapter 40 Don't Spy On Me
Claire
I let out a long, shaky breath, my voice barely above a whisper.
“I’ll be home soon, baby. Then we can talk, okay?”
I really didn’t have the strength to face this right now. My head was still foggy from sleep, my body still humming from last night, and the weight of their worry was already crushing me.
Max didn’t push. Instead, he let out a tired sigh of his own, followed by a soft hiss of frustration.
“Okay, Mom… you had us all scared. You didn’t pick up any of our calls.”
Liam’s mouth was still on my shoulder—slow, deliberate kisses that made my skin prickle even as guilt twisted in my gut.
“I’m sorry,” I murmured into the phone. “I’ll be back soon. I promise.”
I ended the call before he could say anything else, my heart hammering. Then I glanced over my shoulder at the man still pressed against my back.
“You do have a caring boy,” Liam said, voice low and amused as he continued trailing kisses up the slope of my shoulder toward my neck. “I have to admit.”
I rolled my eyes, half-exasperated, half-something warmer. “And you did good for not interrupting me,” I shot back without thinking.
A deep, rumbling chuckle vibrated through his chest and into mine.
“You should be thinking about what story you’re going to feed them,” he murmured, lips brushing the sensitive skin behind my ear. “Or… I could help you out. What do you think?”
I frowned, turning my head just enough to meet his gaze.
“What do you mean by ‘help’?”
His eyes were dark, playful, dangerous. He held my stare for a long beat before leaning in again, voice dropping to a velvet whisper.
“I could escort you home. Make it nice and simple for the kids.”
He pulled back suddenly, stretching to look me full in the face, a wicked smirk curling his lips.
“Your mother is my sugar mummy.”
I stared at him. Then burst out laughing—real, helpless laughter—before I could stop myself.
“It’s not funny,” he deadpanned, though the corner of his mouth twitched. “It’s the truth.” says the man who blackmailed me to have sex with him, which I now liked.
I shook my head, still smiling despite myself. “Okay, Liam. I think it’s time for me to go home.”
He studied me for a moment—long enough that I felt the weight of everything unsaid between us—then gave a single, slow nod. He rose from the bed, walked around to stand in front of me, all serious again.
“I’ve laid out some clothes for you. Something to cover the marks so they won’t suspect anything. Freshen up. Meet me outside when you’re ready.”
I nodded my head as I stared at him.
He turned and left the room without another word, the door clicking softly shut behind him.
I sat there for a long minute, staring at the empty space where he’d been. Then I exhaled, slow and heavy, and glanced around the room—at the tangled sheets, the faint scent of him still clinging to the air, the phone in my hand that had just carried my son’s worried voice.
I needed a story. A good one. Something believable. Something that wouldn’t make them look at me differently.
Because the last thing I wanted was for my kids to ever suspect the truth:
That the woman they’d been waiting for all night had spent it in the arms of a man who wasn’t their father…
and that part of me didn’t regret it at all.
I stepped out of the bedroom fully dressed, the borrowed clothes fitting just right—modest enough to hide every mark, every trace of last night. The hallway felt too quiet as I walked toward the living room.
Liam was already there, leaning back in one of the armchairs, a cup of black coffee in his hand and a plate with toast on the table. Across from him sat another plate, untouched, clearly meant for me.
“You must be hungry after last night,” he said without looking up at first, then his eyes lifted, slow and deliberate. “Eat before you leave.”
I hesitated only a second before nodding and taking the seat. The toast was warm, the coffee strong. I started eating, hyper-aware of his gaze on me the whole time.
“Why are you staring so intently?” I finally asked, as I gulped the food in my mouth. A small part of me wondered if I should be worried. He’d been… different since yesterday. Softer. Almost tender. Was it pity? Because he knew Ian had hit me?
He took a slow sip of coffee before answering.
“It’ll be a while before I get to see you again, Mrs. Claire. Pattie’s been suspicious.”
Oh, I’d almost forgotten about her. The woman who is in a relationship with him, the one who was my husband mistress, I wonder what she will do if she finds out her sugar Daddy's wife is fucking her boyfriend.
I narrowed my eyes. “You better not let her suspect a thing.”
Liam smiled—slow, dangerous, amused. “Which is exactly why we won’t be seeing each other for a while.”
I nodded, as I stuffed more toasts in my mouth, and when I'm done I added. “Also… don’t spy on me.”
He didn’t agree. Instead, he laughed low in his throat, the sound rich and private. “I really try not to, you know.”
I shot him a look. He just smiled wider.
We finished breakfast in that strange, comfortable silence that only comes after you’ve already crossed every line there is. Then he stood, offered his hand, and walked me down to the parking lot.
He opened the driver’s door for me like a gentleman. I slid inside, buckled up, ready to disappear back into my real life.
But he didn’t close the door. He just stood there, one hand on the frame, looking down at me.
“Can you close the door now?” I asked softly.
He didn’t move.
“Why do I feel like you used me?”
I met his eyes, unflinching. “Because I did.”
A surprised laugh slipped out of him—low, genuine. “You seriously did, Claire. And stupid me… let you.”
He still didn’t step back.
“A little kiss before you go.”
Before I could answer, he dipped down, close enough that I could smell the coffee on his breath and the faint trace of his cologne. His hand slid to the back of my neck, warm and possessive. His face hovered, lips brushing mine without quite touching—teasing, savoring the moment.
Then he closed the distance.
The kiss started soft. Almost careful. Like he was memorizing the shape of my mouth. But then his tongue slipped past my lips, and everything turned hungry again. I tasted him back—coffee, smoke, him—and my hands fisted in his shirt without thinking.
God. I was going to miss this. Miss him. The way he unraveled me and put me back together in the same breath.
He pulled away slowly, reluctantly. Straightened. Smiled down at me—small, knowing, a little sad.
“You go on now.”
He shut the door with a soft click.
I sat there for a second, heart hammering, lips still tingling. Then I turned the key, the engine purring to life.
As I pulled out of the lot, I caught his reflection in the rearview mirror—standing there, hands in his pockets, watching me leave.
A smile curved my mouth despite everything.
Now it was time to go home.
Time to face my kids.
Time to lie to them, just like Liam had said.