Chapter 194 Number 1 II

Liam could feel the weight of her stare pressing into him—like heat crawling up his skin. He looked away immediately, jaw tightening. There was no way he could meet her gaze right now. Not when she looked like that. Her lips were slightly parted, hair a little messy in the most perfect way, and her face...

Goddamn.

Liam had seen beautiful women. Been around all kinds of dangerously hot women. Vanessa, Ella, Ann, Lilith—every single one of them looked like they stepped off a runway built for goddesses. But Lana? Right now?

She wasn’t trying.

And yet—she was number one.

Her face was flawless. That perfect mix of soft and sharp, innocence and danger. Her eyes were still slightly glassy from the alcohol, giving her that dreamy, hazy look. Her body—full curves, flawless skin, wrapped in a sweater and jeans that somehow made her look even sexier. Maybe it was the way she sat. Maybe it was the wild hair. Or maybe it was the fact that for once, she wasn’t holding anything back. She wasn’t the sharp, always-in-control version of herself.

She was unfiltered.

And it was driving Liam insane.

He swallowed hard, sitting at the edge of the bed, facing away from her. He focused on the wall ahead like it held the answers to all his problems. Because he knew—if he looked back at her again, even for a second—his thoughts would start running wild.

And tonight?

He wasn’t sure he could stop them.

---

He finally finished removing his clothes, leaving on nothing but a plain round-neck shirt and his dark trousers. The room was warm, the dim lights casting soft shadows across the walls. He sat at the edge of the bed, back turned to Lana, eyes staring into the silent room ahead.

He didn’t know what she was doing behind him.

She hadn’t spoken a word since they got inside. No questions. No jokes. No teasing. Just that look. That damn look she gave him back in the bar—that calm, unreadable stare that had crawled under his skin and refused to leave.

His fingers twitched on his lap. Muscles tense. Breath slow.

Then he turned around.

And what he saw... was nothing.

She hadn’t moved. Not an inch.

Lana was still sitting in the exact same spot on the bed. Her legs were still folded to the side, her palms still resting behind her, holding her up. Her eyes locked on his the moment he turned, watching him, studying him like she was trying to memorize every line on his face.

No games. No flirty smirk. No seductive pose.

She just sat there. Beautiful. Still. Calm.

It threw him off.

He blinked, rubbed the back of his neck, and asked quietly, "Are you alright?"

Lana didn’t answer.

Instead, she smiled.

Not a giggle. Not a shy grin.

Just a soft, unreadable smile.

Then, she moved.

She stepped forward slowly, walking toward him without a word. Her movement was graceful and slow—not the sway of a drunk girl, not the clumsy shuffle of someone tipsy. She moved with purpose, with clarity. Her hair fell in loose, messy waves around her shoulders, and her eyes never left his face.

She reached his side and sat down beside him.

He felt the bed shift slightly under her weight, felt her presence settle right beside his own, and it hit him again—he couldn’t avoid her anymore. There was no distance left between them. No excuse. No wall. She was right there.

Close enough to touch.

Liam sighed, jaw tight as he turned slightly toward her. "What are you doing, Lana?"

She didn’t answer with words.

Instead, she leaned in.

And then... she kissed him.

It was fast. So fast he didn’t react. Or maybe—he didn’t want to.

Her lips met his with a soft, bold pressure. Not hungry. Not teasing. Just there—raw and sudden, like a jolt of electricity passing straight through his body. Her eyes were shut, her head tilted just enough to press into him gently, and her face brushed his. He could feel her breath, her warmth, the soft outline of her full lips locked on his.

He didn’t move.

He didn’t even breathe.

He just stared—stunned—not by the kiss itself, but by her. By the girl in front of him. Up close, she was something else. Her flawless skin, her long lashes resting against her cheeks, the curve of her lips against his—he had never seen her like this before. Not this soft. Not this real.

But what truly froze him was how she kissed him.

There was no rhythm. No practiced timing. It was clumsy in the most honest way. Slightly unsure. Slightly off. But full of something deeper—something unfiltered. Something that told him without a single word...

She had never done this before.

Not with anyone.

She moved her head back slowly, lips leaving his, and for a second Liam felt an unexpected wave of disappointment flood through his chest. He didn’t know why.

Maybe he didn’t want it to end.

Lana opened her eyes and looked at him.

And something changed.

That soft smile she had worn earlier faded. Her expression dropped—slowly, but completely. It was like watching someone come back to reality. Her eyes searched his, and when she didn’t find what she was looking for, her gaze shifted down and away.

And Liam saw it.

That flicker of bitterness.

It caught him completely off guard.

She thought he didn’t like it. She thought he didn’t like her.

That tiny reaction from her—barely a second long—slammed into him like a punch.

She wasn’t drunk. Not anymore.

She was sober.

Sober and clear-headed. Her balance. Her eyes.

Everything made sense now.

She had waited until the buzz wore off before doing this.

She hadn’t kissed him because she was drunk or confused.

She kissed him because she wanted to.

Her intrusive thoughts weren’t winning. She wasn’t out of control. She was herself—honest, exposed, and brave enough to take the first step, even when she wasn’t sure how he’d react.

And now, thinking she misread him, she began to pull away.

"I’m sorry," she whispered, voice low and sharp with disappointment. Her fingers gripped the edge of the bed as she prepared to stand.

But before she could, Liam grabbed her wrist.

She froze.

"Shut up," he said quietly—his voice low, serious, and raw with something even he didn’t recognize. His fingers tightened just slightly, and then he pulled her in.

Dragged her back to him.

Not forcefully.

But with enough weight to make it clear—he wasn’t letting her leave.

Not after that.