CHAPTER EIGHT

Liam

 

After the movie ended, the Grants disappeared into the guest room.

“Finally. Either they’re exhausted or they’ve had enough of me for the day,” Maggie said.

“Does it really matter which?”

“No. It does not.” She paused. “Thanks. Again.”

“My pleasure,” I said.

She unfolded herself and got up from the couch, picking the empty mugs off the coffee table.

“I’m going to head to bed. You can watch TV or whatever. Just, um, don’t worry about waking me when you come in. I go to sleep pretty late.”

“So why don’t you stay and watch something with me?” I asked.

“This is kind of my writing time,” she explained.

“Okay. Good to know. I’ll leave you to it, then.”

I watched her disappear up the stairs and then picked up the remote and flipped on the TV. What a strange fucking day. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d met a girl’s parents. And here I’d spent an entire afternoon entertaining the Grants, and then cooking for them, all for a woman I barely knew.

I flipped through the stand-up specials until I found something that appealed to me, then settled in to watch. But after about half an hour, I found myself growing tired. Not wanting to fall asleep on the couch and send the wrong signal to her parents come morning, I got up and headed upstairs to Maggie’s bedroom.

I stood outside the door for a few seconds, wondering if I should knock or just go right in. What did people who lived together do? Did they just walk in? That would be kind of rude. What if it were me, and I was rubbing one out?

I knocked gently.

“Come in,” Maggie called.

I opened the door and found her sitting cross-legged on the armchair, computer on her lap, typing away. She was wearing a white T-shirt and thin grey cotton shorts. Her hair was all tied up on the top of her head in a messy…something or other. But the thing that really got me was her glasses. She was wearing a pair of round, tortoise-shell frames that made her look sexy as hell. And much to my horror, for the first time since this entire charade began, my dick stood up and took notice of the situation.

Suddenly, I was no longer doing a favour for my friend’s kid sister. I was in a bedroom, preparing to spend the night, with an incredibly hot woman. I grabbed some clothes and made a beeline for the bathroom.

I walked in, closed the door, and turned on the cold water. I splashed my face and looked in the mirror. Get a fucking grip, man. What the hell had just happened? I got ready for bed, brushed my teeth, and walked back into the bedroom. She glanced up at me and smiled and once again, I felt that stirring in my shorts. I walked over to the laundry hamper to drop my clothes in, then leaned over to pull the mattress out from under the bed.

“How’s the writing going?” I asked, trying to break the tension.

“Um, okay,” she said. “I rewrote a bunch after our walk the other day. Want to take a look?”

She uncrossed her legs and stood up, handing me the laptop. I took it from her and sat down on the edge of the bed. She paced as I read. It was clear from the revisions she’d made that she had been listening when I’d described the kiss, but it was also still clear she’d never experienced a proper one. I handed her back the laptop.

“It’s getting there,” I said.

She looked at me, frustration clouding her face.

“But I wrote it just like you described. What’s wrong now?” she demanded.

“You wrote it just like I described. You need to find your own words, your own description.”

“Well how the fuck am I supposed to do that?” she asked.

“Get yourself kissed.”

“You’re supposed to be my boyfriend. Kiss me.”

I laughed.

“We’ve been over this already—”

“Right. My brother. You don’t like me. You have a million different reasons. But I’m a grown woman and—newsflash—my brother’s not my keeper. And I’m sure you’ve kissed hundreds of women you didn’t like.”

She was standing there, hands on her hips, looking incredibly pissed off. I set the laptop down on the bed and stood up.

“And what’s so funny, anyway? You’ve had this stupid grin on your face since you walked in here. Like this whole situation is hysterical. Like it’s just beyond that I’d ask you—”

I grabbed her head in my hands and kissed her. Partly just to shut her up, partly because of those damn glasses, but mostly because I’d suddenly noticed the way her mouth moved when she spoke, how her lips curled up at the corner.

My intention had been a short kiss, just a small demonstration. But then it happened—the melt. I stood there, stunned, as her lips parted and her arms came up around my neck. I moved one hand to the back of her head, shifting the angle of my mouth to deepen the kiss.

My blood turned to fire and I could not get enough of her. She broke away for air and I bent my head, kissing the hollow of her neck. A low sigh escaped her lips and I covered her mouth with mine once more. She pressed herself up against me, tentatively, and I felt myself grow hard.

I pulled back and cleared my throat.

“So, uh. There you have it. A proper kiss.”

She stood there, blinking at me.

“I’m just going to run down to the kitchen and get some water. You want anything?”

She shook her head slowly, running her thumb over her bottom lip, still not saying a word. I backed away from her, turned the knob, and slipped out of the room.