Lust Meter System: Conquering Beauties-Chapter 137: Morning After

Liam woke to the smell of food.

Not just food.

Something savory and warm, the kind of smell that pulled you out of sleep whether you wanted to wake up or not. Garlic. Butter. Something else underneath it, rich and slightly sweet.

He lay there for a moment, eyes still closed, his body sinking into the mattress.

His ribs ached. A deep, persistent throb that had been there when he fell asleep and was still there now. His back was stiff. His left side felt tender when he breathed too deeply.

’Worth it,’ he thought.

He opened his eyes slowly, blinking against the morning light coming in through the window.

The apartment was quiet except for the soft sounds coming from the kitchen.

A pan scraping against the stove. Water running briefly in the sink. The faint hum of the refrigerator.

He turned his head.

Tasha was in the kitchen.

She was wearing one of his shirts again.

Light blue this time, oversized and hanging loose on her frame, falling to mid-thigh. Her long black hair was pulled back in a messy ponytail, a few strands falling loose around her face.

Her legs were bare beneath the shirt, pale and smooth in the morning light.

She moved around the small kitchen with easy familiarity now, like she’d been doing this for months instead of days. Opening cabinets. Pulling out plates. Stirring something on the stove.

Liam pushed himself up slowly, wincing as his ribs protested the movement.

He swung his legs off the bed and sat there for a moment, his bare feet flat against the floor, his hand pressed lightly against his left side.

Then he stood.

Walked the few steps to the kitchen.

"Morning," he said.

Tasha glanced over her shoulder at him. "Morning."

’It smells so good.’ Liam thought to himself.

She turned back to the stove, her attention on whatever she was cooking.

Liam watched her for another moment.

Then he turned and walked into the bathroom, closing the door behind him with a soft click.

The small bathroom was still slightly damp from Tasha’s shower earlier. Condensation clung to the edges of the mirror. He flipped on the light and looked at himself.

He looked rough.

His hair was a mess, sticking up in places, flattened in others.

His face was tired, shadows under his eyes from too little sleep and too much... other things.

His jaw was tight, the muscles there sore in a way that had nothing to do with his ribs.

He pulled up his shirt carefully and looked at the bandaging on his left side.

The white gauze was slightly wrinkled from sleeping on it, the medical tape holding it in place still secure.

No blood had seeped through, which was good. But the area around it looked bruised, dark purple and yellow spreading across his ribs.

’I shouldn’t have done that last night.’

But he had.

Multiple times.

And Tasha, for someone who’d been a virgin for less than twenty-four hours, had a surprising amount of energy once she got comfortable with the whole thing.

He dropped his shirt back down and opened the cabinet above the sink.

Grabbed his toothbrush and the tube of toothpaste from the shelf. Squeezed a line of paste onto the bristles and started brushing.

The mint flavor was sharp and clean in his mouth. He brushed slowly, methodically, his free hand resting on the edge of the sink.

When he was done, he rinsed his mouth, spat into the sink, and wiped his face with a towel hanging nearby.

Then he opened the door and stepped back out.

Tasha was plating food now, two plates side by side on the small counter. She glanced up when he came out.

"I’m shocked you can walk," he said.

Her face went red immediately. "Shut up."

He smirked. "I’m just saying."

"I said shut up." She turned back to the plates, her shoulders tense.

"She thought the same thing right after he said it — her hands moved a little too quickly, the way she wasn’t looking at him. She was embarrassed because she had been thinking about it too."

"If you keep talking," she said without looking at him, "I’m going to stop cooking for you."

"No, no, no." He held up both hands. "I take it back. Your food smells amazing. Please don’t stop."

She glanced at him, her lips twitching slightly like she was trying not to smile.

"What did you make?" he asked, moving closer to look at the plates.

"Scrambled eggs. Toast. Bacon." She gestured at the plates. "Nothing fancy. Just what you had in the fridge."

’Hell, this looks amazing. She might actually be a better cook than me,’ Liam thought to himself, observing the food right in front of him.

It was true. The eggs were fluffy and golden, not the flat, overcooked mess he usually made. The toast was evenly browned. The bacon was crispy but not burnt.

He moved to the couch and sat down carefully, his hand going to his ribs as he settled into the cushions.

Tasha brought both plates over and set them on the coffee table.

Then she sat beside him, close but not touching, tucking one leg under herself.

Liam picked up his fork.

Then paused.

"Are you going anywhere today?" Tasha asked.

He looked at her. Then up.

Above her head, the number floated.

[70/100]

’Interesting.’

"I’m not planning on going anywhere," he said. "You can have me all to yourself today."

She looked at him for a moment, her expression unreadable. Then she nodded. "Good. You need to rest. And you need to actually let yourself heal instead of—"

Her phone rang.

She stopped mid-sentence, her eyes going to where her phone sat on the far end of the coffee table.

It rang again. Loud and insistent in the quiet apartment.

She stood and walked over to it, picking it up and looking at the screen. Her expression shifted. Something tightened in her face.

Liam watched her.

She swiped to answer and brought the phone to her ear. "Hello?"

He picked up his fork and took a bite of eggs. They were good. Really good. Soft and buttery, seasoned just right.

"What?" Tasha said suddenly.

Her voice had changed. Gone sharp and breathless all at once.

Liam looked up.

She was standing completely still, the phone pressed to her ear, her other hand hanging loose at her side. Her face had gone pale.

"When?" she asked. Her voice cracked slightly on the word.

Liam set his fork down. "Tasha?"

She didn’t respond. Just stood there, listening to whoever was on the other end.

"Okay," she said quietly. "Okay. I’m coming. I’m coming right now."

She lowered the phone slowly.

"Tasha," Liam said again, louder this time. "You okay?"

She turned to look at him. Her eyes were wide, unfocused.

"My dad," she said. "He’s awake."

Liam stood immediately, his plate forgotten. "That’s great."

She nodded. Then her face crumpled.

Tears spilled down her cheeks before she could stop them, fast and hot, her breath hitching in her chest.

"Hey." Liam crossed the space between them in two steps and pulled her into his arms. "It’s okay. It’s okay."

She pressed her face into his chest, her hands gripping the fabric of his shirt. Her whole body shook with it, small sobs breaking out of her that she was trying and failing to keep quiet.

"I wasn’t expecting to cry this much," she said, her voice muffled against him.

"It’s a lot," Liam said quietly. His hand moved to the back of her head, fingers threading gently through her hair. "You’ve been holding it in for a while."

She nodded against his chest.

They stood like that for a long moment. Her crying. Him holding her. The food cooling on the coffee table behind them.

Finally, she pulled back slightly, wiping at her face with the back of her hand. Her eyes were red and puffy, her cheeks streaked with tears.

"We should go see him," Liam said.

She shook her head immediately. "My stepmom said not to bring anyone."

He frowned. "What?"

"She also thinks it was an attack." Tasha’s voice was steadier now, but still thick. "The fact that my dad didn’t die. Maybe that was enough for whoever did it. But she doesn’t want to risk it. She moved him to a new location. She doesn’t want anyone to know where he is."

Liam processed that. "That actually makes sense."

"Yeah." Tasha looked up at him. "She just wants me."

He nodded slowly. It made sense. If someone had tried to kill her father and failed, they might try again. Keeping the location secret was smart.

"Alright," he said. "You go. Take care of him. Text me if you need anything."

"Okay."

She stepped back fully now, wiping her face one more time.

Then she turned and moved quickly to where her clothes were folded.

She grabbed a pair of jeans and pulled them on, then her shoes. She was moving fast now, her hands shaking slightly as she tied her laces.

When she was dressed, she grabbed her jacket from the hook by the door and pulled it on.

Then she stopped.

Turned back to look at him.

"Thank you," she said quietly.

"For what?"

"For everything."

He nodded. "Go. I’ll be here when you get back."

She nodded once. Then she opened the door and stepped out, closing it behind her with a soft click.

Liam stood there for a moment, staring at the closed door.

Then his phone buzzed on the coffee table.

He walked over and picked it up, glancing at the message on the screen. A small smile crossed his face.

’i need to finish eating first,’ he told himself.

He sat back down on the couch, his plate of food still in front of him, now cold. He picked up his fork and worked through the rest of it without rushing.

’Alright,’ he thought. ’Let’s see what this is about.’