chapter 3
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**Chapter 3: Moonlit Confessions**
The invitation arrived three days later—a slip of paper tucked between the pages of a book left on Elena’s doorstep.
*Bonfire at Crescent Cove. Sunset. Bring wine.*
No signature, but none was needed. The handwriting was unmistakably Liam’s—bold, slightly uneven, as if he’d written it in a hurry.
Elena traced the edge of the paper, her stomach fluttering. She hadn’t seen him since that afternoon in the bookstore, though not for lack of thinking about him. Every time she picked up a paintbrush, her mind wandered back to the warmth of his voice reading Neruda, the way his fingers had lingered on her wrist.
*This is dangerous.*
But she went anyway.
---
Crescent Cove was a small, sheltered beach just north of Seabridge, accessible only by a narrow path through the dunes. By the time Elena arrived, the sun was a molten sliver on the horizon, and the bonfire was already crackling, sending sparks spiraling into the violet dusk.
A handful of people lounged on blankets and driftwood logs—locals she recognized in passing. And there, at the edge of the firelight, was Liam.
He looked up as she approached, his face flickering with something unreadable before settling into a slow smile. “You came.”
Elena held up the bottle of wine. “You promised alcohol.”
“I promise a lot of things.” His gaze held hers. “Glad this one worked.”
She rolled her eyes, but her pulse betrayed her, thrumming wildly as she sat beside him on the sand. Not close enough to touch, but close enough to catch the scent of him—salt and smoke and something faintly spicy.
*Too close. Not close enough.*
---
The evening unfolded in a haze of laughter and shared bottles. Liam’s friends were easy company—a fisherman with a penchant for terrible jokes, a potter who claimed to speak to seagulls, a retired librarian who could recite Shakespeare on demand. Elena found herself relaxing, the knot in her chest loosening with each sip of wine.
At some point, someone produced a guitar, and the group dissolved into off-key singing. Liam, to Elena’s surprise, had a decent voice—rich and warm, slightly rough at the edges. He caught her staring and winked, sending heat crawling up her neck.
When the fire burned low and the others began to drift away, Elena stood, brushing sand from her dress. “I should head back.”
Liam rose beside her. “I’ll walk you.”
She opened her mouth to protest, but the words died when his hand found the small of her back, guiding her toward the shoreline.
---
The moon was high now, painting the waves in silver. They walked in silence, the only sounds the crunch of sand underfoot and the distant cry of a night heron.
“You’re quiet tonight,” Liam said finally.
Elena hugged her arms to her chest. “Just thinking.”
“About?”
*About how your hand feels on my back. About how badly I want to turn and kiss you right here, under the stars.*
She swallowed the words. “Art. Life. The usual.”
Liam hummed, unconvinced. Then, abruptly, he stopped walking.
Elena turned to face him—and froze.
The moonlight caught the sharp angles of his face, his eyes dark and intent. He reached out, tucking a windblown strand of hair behind her ear, his fingers lingering against her cheek.
“Elena,” he murmured.
Just her name. Just enough to shatter her.
She should step back. She should laugh it off.
Instead, she leaned into his touch.
---
Liam exhaled sharply, as if he’d been holding his breath. Then his hand slid into her hair, tilting her face up to his.
The kiss was slow at first—a question, a test. But when Elena sighed against his lips, something in him seemed to snap. He pulled her closer, his other arm banding around her waist, and suddenly there was no space between them, no air, no thought beyond the feel of him.
Elena fisted her hands in his shirt, anchoring herself as the world tilted. His mouth was warm, insistent, tasting of wine and summer nights. When he nipped at her lower lip, she gasped, and he took advantage, deepening the kiss until her knees threatened to buckle.
Somewhere in the haze, she registered the sound of the waves, the press of his body against hers, the way his heartbeat thundered under her palms.
Then, reluctantly, Liam pulled back, resting his forehead against hers. His breath came ragged. “Tell me to stop.”
Elena shook her head. “No.”
A beat. Then his mouth crashed into hers again, hotter this time, hungrier. She melted into him, letting the tide of want carry her under.
When they finally broke apart, the world rushed back in—the chill of the night air, the distant glow of the bonfire, the reality of what had just happened.
Liam’s thumb traced her swollen lower lip, his voice rough. “I’ve been thinking about that since the moment I saw you on the beach.”
Elena’s stomach swooped. “Me too.”
He studied her face for a long moment, then brushed a kiss to her forehead. “Come home with me.”
It wasn’t a demand. It was a choice, laid bare between them.
Elena took his hand.
---
**End of Chapter 3.**
- Writer
