CHAPTER ELEVEN ETHAN'S POV

CHAPTER ELEVEN ETHAN'S POV


From the moment the second Liam had left, there was a strange emptiness to the room. I ignored it as the exhaustion finally taking its toll on me, yet part of me knew better.

Being around him left a haunting touch, one that I could still feel hours after he had gone. Yet I had more pressing problems to be worried about.

My family appeared shortly after, their voices filling the hospital room with a tempest of concern.

My mother's face was pale as she rushed to my bedside, her eyes brimming with unshed tears.

"Ethan! What happened?" she demanded, her hands gripping mine in a firm grasp as if I would vanish if she loosened her hold.

I sighed. "I was trying to cross the street, and a reckless driver came out of nowhere." It was the most harmless explanation, the one that wouldn't make my father's eyes narrow with suspicion.

My father was at the foot of the bed, his arms crossed. "You have to be more careful," he said, his voice stern but with an undercurrent of concern. "Your wedding is just around the corner. You can't have distractions at this time."

Distractions.

I swallowed hard the bitter laughter rising in my throat. I was in an accident and all he cared about was the wedding. If only he knew that the real distraction had been on the other side of the road and that was why I had been too careless to notice the car speeding my way.

Diana, my fiancée, interrupted before I could respond. Her concern was a little too much, and I momentarily wondered if it was all an act.

She traced a hand across my forehead, brushing my hair back. "I was so worried," she whispered, her lips pressing into my knuckles.

It took everything in me not to flinch.

Diana and I had been clear about what our engagement was. A partnership, a deal. No romance, no unwanted feelings. But here she was playing the role of the besotted fiancée, and I had to remind myself to do the same.

I'm fine," I said to her, smiling a little.

She shook her head. "I want to be with you tonight."

Panic swelled in my chest, but I kept my face calm. "Diana, you have work tomorrow morning," I pointed out to her. "And I need to rest. You being here will only keep me awake.".

She paused, looking as though she wanted to argue, but my father spoke up before she had a chance to say anything. "Ethan's right. Let him rest."

She relented begrudgingly. They all left one at a time, but not before my mother gave me another lingering hug and a reminder to be more careful.

The moment the door closed behind them, I breathed a heavy sigh, digging deeper into the pillows. The room was quiet now, but my mind wasn't.

I replayed the accident over and over, the image of Liam standing by the sidewalk branded in my mind. He had wanted to come to me, I could see it in his eyes. But he had held himself back.

Because of me. Because of the life I had built, the life that did not include him.

I closed my eyes, forcing myself to breathe. But sleep never came.

And then, just after midnight, the door creaked open.

Liam was back.

He entered, his movements wary, deliberate. He wore a dark coat, his hair disheveled slightly as if he'd been running his fingers through it over and over again.

He didn't comment at first, just gazed at me with those piercing eyes, as if he was testing whether I was really fine.

"You look like shit," he finally said, his voice low.

I laughed. "Thanks. That's just what I needed to hear."

He smirked, stepping closer. "How do you feel?"

"Like I got hit by a car," I joked.

His expression turned serious, and for a moment, the silence hung between us. Then, in a low voice, he admitted, "I thought I lost you today."

Something in my chest tightened. "I don't want to lose you, Ethan." he whispered.

I swallowed hard. My throat was tight, and I didn't trust myself to speak.

His breath caught. The space between us suddenly seemed too small, the tension between us palpable enough to choke.

He took another step forward until his knees brushed against the bed. "Ethan," he whispered, his voice low and dangerous.

I trembled. Not in fear, but with the sheer power of his presence, the ferocity with which he looked at me as if he could peel back every layer of pretence I showed.

My hands clenched into fists in the sheets but I did not retreat. I did not say no.

Liam's hand reached out, his fingers grazed my cheek, the touch feather-light but causing destruction nonetheless. Heat kindled beneath my skin, a slow burn that radiated from the place he'd touched me.

His throat tightened around the words that had stripped him bare. "I thought I'd lost this. I thought I'd lost you."

I exhaled hard, half disbelief, half something far more dangerous, surrender.

"You told me to leave, Liam."

He flinched, his jaw tight. But instead of backing off, he leaned in, his breath a heat on my lips. "I was a fool."

His confession hung between us, heavy and unspoken. I could push him away. I could remind him that we were dealing with fire. But then his lips brushed against mine, a whisper of a kiss, a plea instead of a demand.

And I reacted to him. God, I reacted!

There was a low growl in his throat as I pulled him down, my fingers tangling in his shirt, requiring him closer, requiring drowning in him.

He responded with a ferocity I didn't expect, his hands fisting at my waist, dragging me into him, the hard planes of his body slamming into mine as if he couldn't abide the space between us.

His mouth was not tentative anymore, it was insisting. Teeth scraping, lips bruising. His hands slid under the thin fabric of my hospital gown, fingertips tracing fire over my bare skin. I gasped, arching into him as he reclaimed every forgotten inch of me.

"Ouch, my hand."

Liam stiffened immediately at the sound of my voice, he was already retreating but stopped half way. He grunted, pulling back just long enough to look at me, really look at me.

His pupils were blown wide, his breath coming in ragged gasps. "Tell me to stop."

I swallowed hard, shaking my head. "Don't you dare."

That was all he needed.

His mouth crashed down on mine, and I welcomed him with the same wild need, hands pushing at his shirt, needing to touch him, all of him.

He pulled back only long enough to tear the fabric over his head, and then his skin was against mine, warm, solid and real.

I breathed out a shaky breath as his mouth moved along my jaw, my neck, further down. His hands were everywhere, possessive, reverent, mapping every bit like he was memorizing me all over again.

My fists clenched in his hair as he mouthed down my chest, teeth scraping, tongue soothing.

"Liam…" My voice cracked, but he just hushed me, his breath skating over me.

"Let me take care of you," he whispered, his voice thick with need.

And so he did.

There was no regret or fear. Only heat and breath and the undeniable truth that this, us, wasn't something we could ever walk away from.

We weren't just falling back together. We were claiming what had always been ours.