Zain POV
Liam slides out of the booth with all the grace of a drunk cat, saunters around to my side, and without warning, straddles my lap right there in the booth.
People at the nearby tables glance over.
Someone whistles.
I stiffen automatically, but Liam just settles himself like he belongs there, arms draped lazily around my neck, eyes sparkling with pure, unfiltered mischief.
“You were taking too long,” he murmurs in my ear, loud enough for anyone paying attention to hear.
“Liam,” I growl, low enough it vibrates against his chest.
He leans back a little, giving me the most infuriatingly sweet smile. “What? You said patience was a virtue. I’m just speeding things up.”
The people nearby are still watching. The bartender’s smirking.
Liam shifts his hips, grinding slow and obscen
