Every little pluck sent shards of pleasure diving into the depths of Liam's very being. His teeth tightened as he ground them with every ounce of self control he could pull so suddenly. He gripped his island with sweat-stained fingers. The worry and pain Hannah felt for her friend continued to build in her face. In her eyes.
In all his years, Liam learned that a woman's eyes never failed to give her away. The eyes spoke when their mouths could not. He preferred it that way.
"I- Kn-knife. Just there," he hissed lower than even a snake could and indicated the drawer with a point of his chin. If he missed a few slivers, Emery was sure to get them out. His brother never missed a wound on their body. Naturally, his reaction would prove otherwise.