Liam's heartbeat jumps to a rabbit's pace and at first he can't fathom why. It occurs to him, though, that it's an automatic reaction—muscle memory. Marty'd corner him with that lascivious grin, his heart would leap up into his throat, and Liam would inevitably find a way to melt out of Marty's reach at the last moment. Tweak his nose. Roll his eyes. Duck away. Away from danger. Away from feeling.
His breath catches, but only just. There's no reason for any of that, now.
Except maybe the eye rolling. Eye rolling sounds like a good move here.
Liam does his best to make that hitch of air in his throat sound like a laugh when he moves in to meet Marty. "Damn. Someone's eager to start the second half of the night." He catches one of Marty's hands in his own, then rests his left hand at Marty's waist — the way he'd been shown at the Valentine's dance. With a grin puckish enough to rival Marty's, he lowers his voice. "You're gonna have to work for it."
Marty & Liam
His breath catches, but only just. There's no reason for any of that, now.
Except maybe the eye rolling. Eye rolling sounds like a good move here.
Liam does his best to make that hitch of air in his throat sound like a laugh when he moves in to meet Marty. "Damn. Someone's eager to start the second half of the night." He catches one of Marty's hands in his own, then rests his left hand at Marty's waist — the way he'd been shown at the Valentine's dance. With a grin puckish enough to rival Marty's, he lowers his voice. "You're gonna have to work for it."