Liam doesn’t say a word on the short drive back to my place. Or maybe he does and I don’t hear him over the endless chatter in my own head.
I’m disgusted with Alan for moving on so quickly, although it shouldn’t surprise me. He never did confirm how long he’d been cheating on me, but my guess would be several months at least. What pisses me off more than that is the fact his engagement will cause a resurgence of my name in the press. The entertainment show sharing our picture alongside news of the engagement proves that. Reporters will likely attempt to hunt me down for an interview or a sound bite, or better yet, a picture of me looking less than my best, which they can then sell as me appearing pathetic and dejected.
A week or so after the news of the affair broke, Natalie treated me to a day at the spa, and a photographer snapped a shot of me on my way home. I was blissed out from the treatments, so my guard was down and I didn’t see the creep lurking with a camera. If I had, I would have averted my face or ducked inside a nearby building. He managed to capture the most unflattering photo of me imaginable: my makeup-free face, which wouldn’t have been so bad, had my skin not been all red and blotchy from the various facial treatments. The papers had a blast with their headlines: Josslyn Hazelwood heartbroken, spotted crying in the streets, unable to get over Alan’s betrayal.
The passenger side door of Liam’s truck opens, startling me so badly I jerk forward, engaging the seat belt’s lock. I make a choking noise as it pushes the air from my lungs.
“Hey, it’s okay.” Liam leans into the truck, resting his hand on my arm. Over his shoulder, I see my car in the driveway and the rental house beyond. I didn’t even notice him turning off the truck or getting out. When I remain in my seat, stunned into immobility, Liam inches further into the cab, filling my senses with his musky scent and the warmth radiating from his body. My eyes drift shut and, without meaning to, I inhale deeply. Liam is so close to me I can feel when his body stiffens.
This night just gets better by the minute.
A quiet click is followed by the seat belt retracting. Liam straightens and offers me his hand. I can’t bring myself to raise my gaze to his, so I keep my eyes on his thick, calloused fingers as they close around mine. I attempt to free my hand once my feet hit the ground, but he keeps his fingers locked loosely around mine as we walk up the path toward the house.
Years of condo living means I forgot to leave the porch light on, so we’re surrounded by darkness. When we reach the front door, I use the excuse of searching for my keys, along with the lack of light to avoid eye contact. “Sorry about that back there,” I say, making a vague gesture with my free hand, encompassing both the sniffing-him-in-the-truck incident and the fact he had to usher me from The Watering Hole so I could have a mental freak-out in private.
A tiny shaft of light shines into my purse as Liam engages the flashlight on his phone. I murmur my thanks and continue rummaging for the keys. The moment I pull them free from the depths of my purse, they slip from my shaky fingers. Liam bends to retrieve them and then unlocks the door.
I blow out a loud breath. “Thank you. You’re great. I’m a mess.”
“Want to talk about it?”
His gentle tone makes my throat tighten and my eyes sting. “I-I’m not sure.” I finally meet his gaze, which is serious and searching. I should reiterate the fact I’m a mess, and suggest he leave. And yet…
I step inside the dark house and flip on the light in the entryway. I can sense Liam still standing on the other side of the threshold, waiting for me to make a decision. I turn and push the door open a little wider in invitation. He remains where he is for a beat before slowly entering the house.
Still in a daze, I kick off my boots and dump my jacket on the bench inside the door. “I’m just gonna…” I motion toward the kitchen, and Liam nods. The door closes, followed by the sound of boots being removed. A hanger screeches in the closet, and I picture him hanging up both our coats.
I’m being a crappy hostess by barely speaking to him and abandoning him in the front hall. At least I get out two glasses when I make it to the kitchen. I reach for the bottle of wine in the fridge, then realize mixing it with the martinis I had earlier would likely be a bad idea. I don’t need to add a physical hangover to my emotional one.
Liam enters the kitchen and accepts the glass of water I slide across the counter to him. He perches on one of the stools while I lean against the fridge, hoping it’ll cool my overheated skin. Head bowed, I peek at Liam through my lashes; he’s staring into his glass with a pensive look on his face.
“Go ahead,” I say.
His dark eyes meet mine. “Hmm?”
“Go ahead,” I repeat. “Say something. Ask me whatever questions are rattling around in your brain right now.”
His brows draw together as he bobs his head, returning his gaze to his water glass. “Do you have anything to eat?”
The unexpected question nearly causes me to do a spit-take as I sip my water. Uncontrollable laughter bubbles up in my throat and spills from my mouth. I sound slightly hysterical. A distant part of my brain acknowledges it’s better than breaking down in sobs. Setting my glass aside, I open the fridge and pull out the last slice of chocolate cake Mae brought me the other day. I’ve been hoarding it, but Liam deserves it after getting me out of the bar and bringing me home.
“Want to share?” he asks as I set the plate and a fork in front of him.
“Nah, I’m good.” Eating my feelings won’t help any more than attempting to drown them.
I watch as Liam takes his first bite of the cake. He closes his eyes, and his lips tip upward as he chews. I have a similar reaction every time I bite into anything Mae has made. Silence stretches between us, making me antsy. Surely he has something to say about what he saw on the TV in the bar. I’d happily change the subject to a completely unrelated topic, but now it’s all I can think about. My feet move of their own accord and I start pacing the length of the counter before my brain realizes what I’m doing.
“So you’re famous.”
There it is. All the air whooshes from my lungs. Dragging in a deep breath, I stop pacing and face Liam. “Kind of? I mean, I’m not Jennifer Aniston famous, but…yeah.”
“That guy on TV was your ex? And now he’s engaged to someone else?”
Hearing him say the words out loud is like a punch to the gut. I grab my glass of water and down half in three huge gulps, wishing it were vodka. “Yes and yes. He was cheating, the media got wind of it, and they ran with it, as they do. That’s how I found out; he didn’t have the decency to tell me himself. He moved out and filed for divorce shortly afterward.”
“How long ago was that?”
I can’t tell what he’s thinking. His normally expressive face gives nothing away. “About nine months ago, I guess? The divorce was finalized the day before I came to Honeywell.”
He pauses with a forkful of cake halfway to his mouth. “Shit. He didn’t waste any time.”
This almost makes me laugh. “Exactly, which is why the media is all over it. The engagement would be newsworthy on its own because Alan is famous, but the fact he barely waited until the ink was dry on our divorce papers to propose to the woman he left me for…” I trail off, shrugging.
“Is that why you came to Honeywell? To get away from the media?”
“Partly. My friend Natalie said I was running away, and she’s not necessarily wrong. I’m used to being in the spotlight in some form; I was a child star who continued acting into my teens and then adulthood. My current claim to fame is those movies your sister loves, particularly the Christmas ones. Between that and the publicity from the divorce, I got tired of seeing my own face everywhere I looked. I wanted some peace to figure out who I am outside of everyone else’s expectations and assumptions.”
“How’s that going?” Liam asks.
This guy. He doesn’t ask the questions I expect him to. I kind of like that about him. “Too early to tell.”
That finally gets a smile out of him. It’s small, but it makes the skin around his eyes crinkle, which in turn makes my heart beat a little faster. He still hasn’t taken the bite of cake that stalled halfway to his mouth a moment ago, and now he turns the fork around, offering it to me.
My gaze darts between the cake and his eyes. He cocks one eyebrow, almost in challenge. Maybe he’s daring me to turn down a bite of Mae’s mouth-watering chocolate cake for a second time. Whatever the reason, I lean across the counter, keeping my eyes on his as I close my lips around the fork. I pull back slowly, wanting to make sure I get every morsel of rich, decadent chocolate. I only realize the move could be construed as sexual when Liam’s pupils widen.
Our eyes remain locked as I chew and swallow. The space between us practically buzzes with electricity. I swear I can feel heat radiating from his body, despite the counter between us. I think about our flirty banter earlier at the bar. Of Natalie’s insistence on me hooking up with someone. Of the jumbo box of condoms she sent me…
“Have you ever had a one-night stand?” The words are out before I can stop them. I’m not sure which of us is more surprised. I straighten abruptly and slap my hands over my face, which is likely turning the color of an overripe tomato. “Oh my god. Forget I asked that.”
The sound of Liam’s quiet laughter is closer than expected. I catch a whiff of his cologne a moment before he gently pries my hands away from my face. His smiling eyes meet mine, and he squeezes my hands briefly before releasing them. Why is he standing so close? Why is he so sexy? And, most importantly, why haven’t I developed a better filter between my brain and my mouth? One that doesn’t lead to embarrassing moments like this. I should stick to the lines other people write for me and not speak otherwise.
“Why do you want to know if I’ve ever had a one-night stand?”
I make a sound somewhere between a sigh and a groan. I’d like to repeat my request for him to forget I asked, but I guess you can’t really ask a question like that and expect to drop the topic. “Part of it is curiosity,” I say slowly. “And curiosity, in this case, is actually more nosiness than anything since we barely know each other. But you mentioned earlier about dating a few out-of-towners, and I was…”
“Curious,” he finishes, and I nod. “Hmm. Okay. What’s the other part?”
“What other part?”
“You said ‘part of it’ is curiosity. What’s the other part?”
I silently curse Natalie for planting ideas in my head. I’ve come this far, though… “See, my friend—the one who said I was running away by coming to Honeywell—she has this theory that the best way to get over someone is to get under someone else.”
Liam’s eyebrows inch up. “Huh. And you thought I’d be a good candidate for this experiment?”
“No! Maybe? I don’t know! I mean, I’m attracted to you. And, granted, it’s been awhile, but I think you might be attracted to me too.” I pause, sucking in a breath. Liam doesn’t say anything, just gives one slow nod that makes my insides clench.
“I still haven’t decided if I agree with Natalie’s theory or not,” I say. “For one thing, it’s not really my style. Nat means well, but she doesn’t understand how it feels. It’s not about revenge or getting over my ex. Not entirely anyway. I don’t need revenge and, as awful as it sounds since we didn’t split up that long ago, I’m mostly over him. Given time, I know I’ll also get over what happened.”
The sympathy in Liam’s eyes is too much. I lace my fingers in front of me and gaze down at them before continuing. “What Nat doesn’t understand is the fact it’s about more than that. Finding out Alan was cheating and having him leave me for another woman makes me feel undesirable. Right from the beginning, Alan was never all that interested in sex. He claimed he had a low libido, which I accepted because I loved him and trusted him, and there are more important things than sex.
“But when I found out he was cheating, it made me wonder if what he said was true or if it was me he didn’t want to have sex with. I feel like I was cast aside, like I didn’t matter. It made me question so many things, and it took me back to this deep-seated fear my former therapist uncovered a few years ago where I feel like everyone always leaves and I don’t really matter.”
I’m breathless when I finish speaking. My body deflates slightly and I lean against the counter for support. My cheeks flame once again as I realize I just word-vomited all my fears and insecurities over this poor man.
Liam’s mouth is pressed into a hard line, and a storm of emotions plays out in the dark depths of his eyes. “Your ex is an asshole,” he says matter-of-factly. “I can’t tell you how to feel or not feel, but trust me when I say it’s his loss.” He grips my upper arms and leans in so we’re eye to eye. “For what it’s worth, Joss, I think you’re incredibly sexy. Alan was a fool if he didn’t see that, and an even bigger fool for letting you go.”
My breath catches. His face is so close to mine I can see the fine lines around his eyes and the golden flecks in his dark irises. I feel completely exposed after my confession and his reassurances. It makes me fight against opposite impulses to flee from the room or step into the circle of his arms and beg him to hold me.
“Thank you.” My voice shakes around the words.
Liam releases me and straightens to his full height. “To answer your question from earlier, I’ve had a total of one one-night stand, and it was with an out-of-towner. It was shortly after my mom died and I just needed…” He exhales sharply and sticks his hands on his hips, bowing his head. “Release. I needed something to help me forget everything and everyone for a few hours before I completely fell apart.”
I imagine Liam a few years ago: newly back in town to help his younger sister and baby nephew, then his mother when she got sick. Putting everyone before himself and probably keeping all his grief, worry, and pain hidden under the surface so he wouldn’t burden anyone else. I conjure up an image of this strong, beautiful man finding solace in a stranger, pouring all of himself into a night of passion that probably rocked the woman’s world. The thought makes me swallow convulsively and clench my hands behind my back so they won’t be tempted to reach for him.
“Did it work?” I ask.
One side of his mouth lifts. “It didn’t change anything in the long run, but for that one night? Yeah, it made a difference.” His gaze sweeps over my face and hair, studying me intently. “Casual isn’t really my style, though, you know? Mae has always said I’m made for loving.”
I laugh under my breath, despite the fact there’s no humor in it. I can hear Mae saying that, and she’s obviously right. A man like Liam wouldn’t want one night with a woman; he’d want to build a life with her, take care of her, be a partner to her. He’d be the type to make a woman feel wanted, cherished. I bet anyone he was with would never feel the doubts I did with Alan. Would never wonder what I have for years: did Alan ever really love me or was our relationship simply convenient? Or worse, an elaborate publicity stunt?
Needing to put some space between us, I take a step back and start to turn away. Liam’s hand catches mine. The innocent touch sends a rush of heat coursing through me. Clearly what I need right now is a cold shower. And maybe the little purple battery-operated boyfriend Natalie sent in her care package.
“I’d be willing to make an exception.” Liam’s low voice is pure sex. The implication of his words takes a second to reach my brain. When it does, a throbbing ache starts up between my thighs.
“Wh-what?”
“I’d be willing to make an exception,” he repeats, even though we both know I heard him the first time. “For you. And who says it has to be just one night? You’re in town for at least the next month, right?”
I nod, suddenly forgetting what words are and how to use them.
“So…” He takes a step forward, all but closing the already-small distance between us. “What do you say? Do you want to put your friend’s theory to the test? I bet I can help you forget everything that’s been weighing on your mind.”
“I bet you could make me forget my own name,” I say breathlessly.
He gives another of those quiet, rumbly chuckles that makes my legs wobble. “I bet I could.”
With shaky fingers, I reach up and touch his face. I love the feeling of his rough stubble. I can’t help wondering what it would feel like scraping over the sensitive skin of my torso and inner thighs. I run my fingers down his short sideburns; I’ve always had a thing for guys with sideburns. Blame Mark Darcy in Bridget Jones’s Diary. Or, earlier than that even, Harvey Kinkle from Sabrina the Teenage Witch. The thought makes me bite my lip to hold in a laugh. Liam would likely think I’m nuts if I started giggling right now for seemingly no reason.
Our eyes meet as my fingers thread through his hair. Just like I’ve always had a thing for sideburns, I’ve also always loved good hair. Liam’s is thick and silky, the kind of hair that begs to be touched. When I give a gentle tug, his dark eyes flash with a mixture of surprise and desire.
I stare into his eyes as I move my hands down to grip the front of his shirt. He must sense my hesitation because he hasn’t made a move other than to rest his hands on my hips. What if this is a mistake? What if having sex with Liam complicates things further? My brain is already working overtime these days, so I probably shouldn’t add to the endless stream of thoughts by complicating things with sex.
Liam’s breath is warm on my face as he leans closer, his hands sliding from my hips to the curve of my waist. He tilts his head, his lips hovering close to mine, giving me a chance to pull away. Rather than putting me at ease, the thoughtful gesture has me seizing with panic and ducking my face into his shoulder.
He remains still for a beat and then he dips down, his lips meeting my neck. I’m sure he can feel the erratic jumping of my pulse.
What is wrong with me? I want to kiss Liam. Those full lips were made for kissing. So why am I suddenly channeling Julia Roberts’ character in Pretty Woman and not allowing him to kiss me?
I’ve become desensitized to kissing over the years; most of the movies I’m in are PG-rated and the kissing is far from passionate. When Alan and I were first together, I remember thinking he was a good kisser, but our kisses became fewer and farther between as time went on. It’s been ages since I felt what I do right now underneath the nerves: a spark of longing that could easily turn into a flame if I was only able to get out of my own damn head and allow it.
Liam’s lips trail over my neck, pressing gentle kisses against my skin. “Is this okay?”
“Mm, yes.” A sigh escapes as his lips continue to inch up my neck. His mouth leaves my skin for the briefest of moments before he catches my earlobe in his teeth, eliciting a gasp from me.
His low chuckle directly in my ear has me closing my eyes tightly and swallowing a moan. I pull back to meet his hooded gaze. Instead of trying to kiss me again like I expect, he reaches for my hair and slowly begins pulling the pins free from my updo. My eyes remain on his face as he works, his fingers gently removing the pins and letting them clatter to the kitchen counter. When the last one is free, he buries his hands in my hair, massaging my scalp until my eyes slip closed and I’m practically purring.
Feeling his breath on my face once more, my eyes fly open. I fist my hands in his shirt again and pull him forward, making a soft, satisfied noise when our lips finally meet. After a second, I find myself thinking this is the sort of kiss I’ve shared with dozens of actors over the years. Chaste. Low heat. But then Liam tilts his head and cups my face, brushing his mouth over mine in a slow, deliberate back and forth. My lips part on a sigh and he nips at my bottom lip before gliding his tongue over it. In the next instant, his mouth covers mine and our tongues meet and entwine.
Now this is a kiss. The kind I haven’t shared with anyone in way too long. The kind that makes my body somehow feel heavy and light at the same time. Heat pools in my center and tingles through my limbs. Liam alternates gentle pressure with deep, delving exploration until I’m breathless and boneless. This man could teach a master class in the art of kissing.
He pulls back, his arms circling tighter around me. I wonder if he can feel how unsteady I am. Sucking in a deep breath and wanting to regain my composure—and at least a modicum of control—I ease myself out of his arms, keeping us connected by gripping his hand.
“Are we really doing this?” I ask.
“That’s completely up to you, Joss. I’m here for…whatever you need.” One eyebrow quirks over eyes that twinkle devilishly. I shut down the part of my brain wanting to fire more ‘what ifs’ at me and instead listen to the voice saying ‘with that much skill at kissing, just imagine what else he can do’.
Tightening my grip on his hand, I swivel around and pull him out of the kitchen. His free hand goes to my waist as we maneuver through the dark house and upstairs to my bedroom. The minute we step inside my room, Liam spins me around and covers my mouth with his again. I let out a quiet moan as his body moulds to mine and I feel the hard ridge of his erection through our clothes.
As he backs me toward the bed, I’m finally able to shut off the stream of thoughts and allow sensation to take over. My heart thunders in my ears as Liam’s warm hands slide under my shirt. His touch is gentle despite his rough fingers as he caresses my stomach, inching upward until his hands cup my breasts through my bra. His mouth leaves mine so he can watch my face as he dips his fingers into the demi cups to stroke my nipples.
His light, explorative touch causes the spark I felt earlier to catch, surging into an inferno that blazes through my body. I pull back enough to whip my shirt over my head and free the clasp on my bra, letting them both fall to the floor. Liam doesn’t need any more encouragement than that to lavish my bare breasts with attention. His mouth soon joins his hands, working me into a near frenzy with his tongue and teeth.
My greedy hands are eager for a turn to reciprocate. I scrabble at the hem of his shirt and he releases me so I can pull it over his head. My eyes go straight to what I assume is a large birthmark under his left peck, except the mark is…green? My curiosity is piqued when I realize it’s a tattoo. Grabbing his hand, I pull him toward the faint light coming in through the open curtains. My heart squeezes and my body goes all gooey for a different reason than it did just moments before. The tattoo is a cartoon T-Rex holding a red love heart with ‘Rex’ scrawled in the center.
“That might be the cutest freaking thing I’ve ever seen,” I murmur. Liam laughs under his breath. It’s hard to tell in the semi-darkness, but I think his cheeks have flushed with color. I change my mind: that might be the cutest thing I’ve ever seen.
“It was Thea’s idea,” he says, running his hands up and down my bare arms. Goosebumps prickle along my skin, making me suddenly remember I’m naked from the waist up, and that until approximately two minutes ago I was heading toward an orgasm.
“After our mom died, Thea wanted us to get matching tattoos,” he continues. “At first I thought she meant to honor our mom, but she said it was to commemorate surviving our childhood. Rex was three or four at the time and he saw us looking at tattoo designs online. He pointed out this one, and it hit Thea and me at the same time that it was what we should get. My mom and I had a better relationship toward the end, but my childhood was messed up. Thea and I always promised we’d do better for Rex, so she said this would be a reminder.”
“That’s so sweet.” My voice wavers. This is quite possibly one of the strangest moments of my life. I’d finally made up my mind to let my inhibitions go in order to spend the night with Liam, and now we’re standing here half naked with the moment slipping away. Self-consciousness creeps in, and I move to cover my breasts. I pause when Liam’s hands slide up to my shoulders, massaging the tension away. The heat coursing through my body had reduced to a low simmer, but it ramps back up now as his fingers graze lightly over my collarbones.
My own fingers move to his tattoo, running over the smooth skin. My surprise has faded and the warm fuzzies are being replaced with an entirely different kind of heat. My eyes roam over his broad chest and continue down to where a trail of dark hair disappears into his jeans. Moving my fingers over his torso, I lean in to trace the same path with my lips.
Liam lets out a low growl when my fingers reach the button on his jeans. The fire in his eyes nearly takes my breath away. He grips the back of my neck and pulls me up to crush his mouth to mine. Our frantic pace from earlier returns as he steers me toward the bed, working at the clasp of my jeans with his free hand. My pants come off, followed quickly by my lacy blue panties. Another growl emanates from Liam’s throat as his eyes sweep over my naked body, lingering on my bare breasts and the triangle of dark hair between my legs.
It’s been a long time since I was completely naked in front of anyone, even Alan. Our intimate moments were rare during the last year of our marriage—probably because he was finding satisfaction elsewhere—and when we did have sex, it was quick and perfunctory with neither of us managing to get all our clothes off before it was over.
I clench my eyes closed briefly, shaking the thoughts away. This is not the time to be thinking of Alan, his infidelity, or our failed marriage. He may have left me feeling insecure and unwanted, but Liam’s searing kisses and wandering hands remind me what it’s like to be the focus of someone’s desire.
“You okay?” Liam asks.
My gaze flies to his. Those beautiful dark eyes have turned into even darker pools of lust. Yes, this man definitely wants me. And I want him. No more second-guessing or wasting time thinking of things that are better left in the past.
“I’m great.” My smile is a bit shaky, and Liam returns it with a slow one of his own. “Your turn,” I say, freeing the button on his jeans before backing up until I hit the bed. I sit and scoot back, arranging myself on the pillows. His smile turns wicked as he watches me, his gaze like a physical weight moving over the most intimate parts of my body. He stands beside the bed and peels off his socks before hooking his fingers into the bands of his jeans and underwear and pushing them both down.
I bite my lip as he straightens and I get my first look at him—long, thick, and fully erect. My mouth goes dry and then begins to water as he grips the base and gives himself a slow stroke from root to tip, eyes never leaving mine.
“C-condoms are in the drawer there,” I stammer, unable to rip my gaze away from where his hand still moves. He obviously doesn’t suffer from the same self-consciousness I do. I wave a hand toward the bedside table, and he opens the drawer with his free hand.
The last thing I expect is the soft chuckle he gives. I shift impatiently, wishing he’d hurry up and join me already so I could get my hands on him.
He lifts the giant box of condoms from the drawer and holds it up. “Someone came prepared.”
I let out an embarrassed squeak and cover my face with both hands, laughing into my palms. His quiet laughter has me peering through my fingers and watching him open the box to free a foil packet. “Those were a ‘gift’ from Natalie, the friend I was telling you about.”
“Well, if I ever meet her, I’ll be sure to thank her for these and for planting the idea of post-divorce sex in your brain,” he says.
The laughter dies in my throat and words fail me as he climbs onto the bed and moves toward me. I reach for him, locking my arms around his shoulders and shifting until I’m on my back, bringing him with me. He situates himself between my legs, groaning when my wet center presses against him.
His mouth meets mine as our hands begin exploring each other’s bodies. His touches are soft and almost reverent at first, and it feels like his warm, rough hands cover nearly every inch of my body. Every time I reach between us, he gently bats my hand away before it meets its desired target, and then distracts me with his mouth on my neck or breasts.
His fingers slide teasingly over my lower belly, making my stomach muscles quiver uncontrollably. My breath comes in short bursts as I arch up, digging the nails of one hand into his back and clutching the sheets with the other to prevent myself from grabbing his hand and forcing it between my legs.
“Liam,” I gasp. “Quit torturing me and just touch me already.”
I can feel the rumble of his laughter through my chest. This time when I arch up, his hand slips between my legs, making me all but sob in relief. Everything is a blur of sensation from that moment on. Liam’s skilled fingers work me until I’m riding the wave of a mind-numbing orgasm. The only orgasms I’ve had in the last few years have been ones I’ve given myself, so I can’t believe how quickly and deftly Liam managed it.
As I bask in the post-climax rush of pleasure, I’m vaguely aware of Liam opening the foil packet and rolling the condom on. He showers my chest and neck with kisses before doing the same to my face.
His hooded gaze meets mine after a long, thorough kiss. “Are you sure about this?”
My heart clenches. Between the squeezing in my chest and the sensations coursing through my body, it’s almost too much to handle. I press my lips together and nod emphatically, unable to speak and yet wanting him to know I have no doubts about this. He hovers over me as his penetrating gaze remains on my face. This time when I reach between us, he doesn’t divert my hand. His eyes go wide and then slip closed as my fingers close around his hard length.
“Josslyn.” His voice is a hoarse whisper as I begin to stroke him. Hearing my full name from his lips makes me falter for a second. He bucks into my hand, eyes shut tight. This foreplay has been the sweetest kind of torture—it’s unlike anything I’ve ever experienced, and better than even my wildest fantasies—but I’m ready for the main event, and I know he is too.
A muscle works in his jaw as he slowly pushes into me. He stops every few seconds, giving me a chance to adjust, his eyes meeting mine until I give a little nod. He’s bigger than I’m used to and, although there’s some discomfort, it doesn’t take long before pleasure takes over. I lift my hips and rock against him, letting out a soft cry. That seems to be the unspoken signal he needs because soon our bodies are moving together and the sounds of our lovemaking fill the room.
My mind snags on that thought: lovemaking. I barely know Liam and yet this is definitely more than just sex. The way he kisses me, the way his eyes seek mine, the way his body responds to my cries and murmurs by picking up the pace and making sure it’s good for me. I should have known he’d be an attentive lover since that’s the type of man he is, but he’s exceeding my expectations in every way.
My body feels like a live wire as we move together. Liam’s hot, wet mouth sucks at my neck and rains kisses over my face. All of my senses are on high alert; it’s almost too much and yet not enough. I can’t remember the last time I felt so many different things at once. Not just physical sensation, but this closeness with somebody, this level of intimacy where all my self-consciousness has been peeled away. Liam’s eyes lock with mine and I feel like he truly sees me.
Gripping my ass, he angles my hips, hitting me just where I need him to with his every move. Flashes of light dance in my peripheral vision as my second orgasm swells and floods through me, leaving me a quaking, boneless mass. With a few more powerful thrusts, Liam buries himself deep inside me, letting out a long groan as he convulses, drawing out the pleasure for both of us.
He remains over me for a moment, his weight like a comforting blanket as aftershocks continue to rock my body. His heavy breathing shifts away from my ear, and warm lips press against my cheek. Our eyes meet and hold, something unspoken passing between us.
The serious moment dissipates as humor sparks in his eyes and one side of his mouth curves. I let out a breathless laugh and he joins me, kissing my cheeks and lips between soft chuckles. With a final kiss on the mouth, he rolls off me, flopping onto his back. While Liam stares at the ceiling, I take a moment to shamelessly peruse his naked body. When my eyes reach his face, I’m surprised to find him watching me, his tiny smile bordering on a smirk.
He pushes himself upright and reaches to help me into a sitting position. I’m not sure what I expect him to say, but it’s not, “I’ll go use the bathroom down the hall so you can use the ensuite.”
Right. This isn’t a movie where the couple immediately snuggle close and fall asleep in each other’s arms. Liam has to dispose of the condom, and I need to clean up. I expect him to grab his jeans or even his underwear, but he heads for the door in all his naked glory. He must realize I haven’t made a move to leave the bed because he glances over his shoulder, catching me staring. Again. He gives me another of those almost-smirks, and I lift one shoulder in a casual shrug, unable to hide my own smug smile.
As soon as he’s out the door, I bolt from the bed and snatch his shirt from the floor, slipping it on as I hurry to the bathroom. After doing my business, I stand in front of the mirror and examine my reflection. Mussed hair, red patches on my neck from where Liam’s stubble rubbed against my skin, and a satisfied smile that won’t go away.
I roll up the sleeves of Liam’s shirt and take my time washing my hands. I feel good—really good—and yet uncertainty is edging in. What do I do now? Go back out there and…what? Return his shirt, tell him it was fun, and show him out? Jump on him and suggest round two?
Realizing I can’t prolong this much further, I finish up in the bathroom and open the door. The bedside lamp is on, illuminating the ridiculously sexy man reclining in my bed. The sheets are pulled up just enough to cover him from the hips down. He smiles when he sees me, flipping back the sheets in invitation.
I cross the room and crawl in next to him, getting a brief glimpse of his still-naked body. He wraps one arm around me, and I nestle against him, enjoying the closeness. We fall into a comfortable silence; I can’t see his face, but I know he’s awake because he’s rubbing my back. My fingers drift lazily over his chest, lingering on the dinosaur tattoo. I’ll never look at a T-Rex the same way again.
“I was thinking…” Liam’s quiet voice has me tilting my head so I can meet his eyes. The renewed hunger I see there has my thighs clenching together. “That box of condoms was awfully big. It’d be a shame to only use one.”
I lift myself onto an elbow so I can see him better. His free hand moves to cover mine where it lays on his chest, then gently pushes my hand down his torso. I bite my lip against a smile when a tent forms in the sheets.
Sliding my hand free, I move quickly to grab a condom. Packet in hand, I push myself onto my knees and straddle him. His surprised expression slowly morphs into a heart-stopping grin. This man literally takes my breath away. Within minutes, I’m completely naked again with him inside me, and I’m breathless for a whole different reason.
*****
The next morning, my first coherent thought upon waking is how pleasantly sore I am. My next is how badly I have to pee.
I open my eyes, surprised to find the space next to me empty. Assuming Liam is in the bathroom down the hall or maybe in the kitchen, I streak to the ensuite, not worrying about grabbing something to cover myself. While sitting on the toilet, I peel an empty foil packet from the back of my thigh and toss it in the trashcan. Liam and I did justice to that box of condoms last night and early this morning before the sun was even up. Natalie would be proud.
Back in my bedroom, I realize Liam’s clothes are missing from the floor. I pull on a pair of leggings and a sweatshirt before going in search of him. My hunt ends at the front of the house, where I glance out at the empty driveway.
My heart sinks. Liam is gone.
A storm of conflicting emotions rushes through me. Disappointment is first; I expected more from Liam than to slip out without a word before I woke up. Relief is next; we don’t have to do the awkward daylight dance of acting as if things are normal between us after a night of passion. The disappointment wins out.
So this is what a one-night stand feels like. And the hollow, lonely feeling in the pit of my stomach is exactly why I always figured it would be a bad idea.