WHAT THE HELL are you doing, Cecily Morgan? It was the only clear thought banging around in her head the second she kissed this big mountain of a man, this straight-from-a-construction-worker-calendar man whose tanned, taut muscles were evident even through his canvas shirt rolled up to the elbows. He was gorgeous, and beyond sexy, and so very, very far out of her league. Yet, she was kissing him brazenly right here in the basement of this bar, near the restrooms, as if coming on to strange men was something she did all the time. It was something she never did. Never in all her life.
He was frozen, probably in shock, and who could blame him? She was kissing him, and he was standing there like a statue, and...oh, God. This was going to be bad. Would he push her away? Declare her a brazen hussy who needed to go get a life? She didn’t know what happened in these kinds of situations, because she’d never kissed a stranger before. Never done anything like this.
But her clock was ticking. And she had a bucket list. And this was number five. Kiss a handsome stranger, a guy you’d never in a million years think you have a chance with, and just...see what happens. And what she needed to happen was to turn this horrible day around. Kissing a handsome stranger was one way she hoped to do it.
Of course, what was happening was she’d scared this chivalrous man to death and now he was patiently standing here waiting for her to get off him. But just when she thought he would push her away, tell her that her pass was decidedly unwanted, he began to kiss her back. He moved slowly at first, cautiously, but his lips parted, matching hers. He tasted like Jameson, but also, something else, something sweet and savory. Something she wanted more of. She opened her mouth, so her tongue could meet his, and the second they began that old ancient dance, every single coherent thought in her brain evaporated.
His big hand slid behind her lower back, and suddenly she was instantly lifted off the last step, and her body pressed tightly against his. He pulled her to him, and she went, eagerly, tasted the salty residue of sweat near his upper lip. A man who worked with his hands, who smelled like the outdoors, and so gorgeous he might as well be a walking sexual fantasy, muscle-bound edition. She put her hands in his thick, dirty blond hair, and he released her mouth, his lips finding the delicate skin of her neck. Oh, God, that felt good. His tongue caressed her, tasted her, and she wondered what else his tongue might be good at doing. Her entire abdomen felt on fire, her thighs had melted into one another. He nuzzled her neck, and she almost cried out right there. In seconds, this had gone from a single kiss to a white-hot make-out session. His hand was working its way up her skirt, and she wanted it there, wanted his calloused hands on her skin. He cupped her hip beneath her dress and she sucked in another hard breath. He covered her mouth with his again, his tongue lashing hers, promising much more to come. One hand was up the back of her neck and in her hair. He grabbed a bit, loosely, but protectively, as if to better maneuver her head. He was taking control and she liked it. Liked it too much.
God, why did he taste so good? Why did he taste like everything she’d ever needed her whole life? Now her own back was against the brick wall, and she felt it, hard and unforgiving. He was pressed against her, and she raised her right leg, he pulled it upward, ever upward, and pressed into her. She could feel him through his jeans, feel his need growing there, hard and determined. Feel him pressing against the thin fabric of her delicate underwear.
Were they going to do this right here? All he had to do was unzip and... She couldn’t believe she was even thinking about it. A hot quickie with a perfect stranger outside the bathroom of a dive bar? She didn’t even know his last name. They’d met mere minutes ago. And she was contemplating letting him take her, right here, right now. This was not the Cecily, she nor anyone else knew. This was not the prim human resources executive, who’d just been laid off. The one who never did anything risky. Never did anything spontaneous. That was, until life threw her the curve ball of all curve balls.
The doctor’s visit today had been the worst.
I’m sorry, Miss Morgan. There’s nothing more we can do.
And then she’d gone back to her office, only to be told that second quarter growth had stalled, that layoffs would take place immediately, and she was out. Along with her health insurance. But, she guessed, if there wasn’t any treatment for her, then why even worry about health care?
Why was she thinking about that now? She had a gorgeous man running his hands up her skirt. She should be thinking about that. She should think of nothing but the feel of his mouth on her skin, nothing but the sure way his hands roved her body. She’d lose herself in him, just for a few moments, and she wouldn’t have to think about the horrible reality of her future. Or lack of one. This was about her damn bucket list. She needed to do this.
“Excuse me?” The strange voice came from somewhere behind her. She broke away from Liam then, in time to see a busboy carrying a big plastic bin full of dirty cocktail glasses. She realized with a start that they were blocking the swinging door to the kitchen.
“Oh, uh. Sorry.” Cecily moved to one side, Liam’s hand still protectively on her waist. Liam studied the busboy, who worked hard not to make eye contact as he walked quickly by. Cecily’s face grew hot, as she glanced back up at Liam. No doubt her lipstick was all over her face now, and her hair felt untamed, and she could still feel the rivets his fingers had made. She probably looked like the world’s biggest slut, but she didn’t care. She had a bucket list.
She glanced at Liam, who seemed also to be catching his breath. Was he as surprised as she was by the electric current between them? Like a pulse of energy that couldn’t be diverted, nor contained. The old Cecily, the conservative, shy Cecily, would have probably run off at this point. Ducked into the bathroom before things could get weird. But this wasn’t the old Cecily. It was Bucket List Cecily.
“I want to do something special for your birthday,” she said, trailing her hand up the buttons of his shirtfront.
“You do?” Liam’s voice came, but breathless. His brown eyes looked darker, the need in them sharp. “And what’s that?”
“Do you live around here?”
Liam didn’t answer at first. Then, he nodded.
“Good. Take me there, and I’ll show you.”
Cecily still couldn’t believe she was doing this, even as Liam led her into the small three-story brick building where he lived, around the corner from the dive bar, the setting sun only just penetrating the narrow staircase that led up to his apartment on the raised first floor. She followed him, wondering whether or not she’d be able to go through with this. It wasn’t in her careful planner DNA. After all, going to the home of a perfect stranger was pretty much risking being killed or worse. They were a stone’s throw from Manhattan, and hadn’t she been schooled on stranger danger since she was a kid? Not to mention all those stories about those poor women. The ones that told her not to jog alone, not to walk alone at night, not to go to a stranger’s house...at six in the evening.
But this was her bucket list.
And, according to the doctors, she had less than a year to live anyway. So, why not take the risk? Still, her heart hammered in her chest. Was she really going to do this? She didn’t even have any condoms. Did he? And how was she supposed to ask? Then again, what did she care about STDs? She almost laughed out loud. She was dying, and she was worried about catching something? That had to be a first. Cecily needed to shut off her damn brain. She needed to just let this amazing hunk of man explore her body all night, and forget about all the things she used to overthink. The time for overthinking was done. The time for living was right now.
Liam swung open his apartment door, and she stepped into the small, but very neat apartment. She was impressed. It was well kept for a guy’s place, she thought. The sink clear of dishes, the couch free of even a discarded jacket. It was a single room, but felt larger than your average efficiency, and based on what she could see, he had no roommates. His place was simple, but she could tell he was a man who took care of what he had. That meant something. Her attention then went to his bed, a queen, neatly made, sitting on a slightly raised platform in the corner of the room, head against big, loftlike windows. The light he flicked on was attached to one above the steel gray comforter, and it almost felt like the bed was a stage. She felt a bolt of nerves as she thought about performing there. A calico cat mewed then, distracting her, and Liam ducked down and gave the feline a quick pat on the head.
“This is Molly,” he said.
“Nice to meet you, Molly,” Cecily said, feeling suddenly as if she knew Liam better. He was a tough, muscle-bound guy who owned a cat? It made her feel safer, somehow. She didn’t know why. In her gut, she’d always known Liam was a good guy. From the second he’d sounded off against that heckler at the bar, she’d known it in her bones. That’s why she was here. But now, standing in his apartment, she suddenly felt uncertain.
“I’ve got a cat, too,” she said, as she dipped down to pet his. Molly laced her body through Cecily’s legs, rubbing her face against her shins. “A Russian blue named Tripp. Or at least part Russian. The shelter wasn’t a hundred percent sure. He always tries to get out of the apartment whenever he can. He’s determined to get lost. I guess you probably know about that, too?” Cecily was babbling now, showing her nerves. Her mouth was on autopilot, and why was she talking so much about her cat?
“Yeah,” Liam said, noncommittal.
“I mean, Tripp once got out and was roaming my building, until I found him in the boiler room. He was probably looking for rats!” She swiped Molly’s head, but the cat got tired of her attention and wandered off. God, she was blowing it. Babbling. Shut up, Cecily. She took a deep breath and willed herself to silence. She straightened, and glanced at Liam. What happened now? She had no idea. Did she jump on him? Take off her clothes?
God, this was suddenly awkward.
“Do you...uh, mind if I take a shower?” Liam asked. “It’s been a long day at work, and I want you to... I mean...” Liam almost looked sheepish.
“No, of course.” He was showering for her, she thought. It was a sweet gesture. That’s what kept surprising her about this seemingly tough guy. She’d half expected him just to rip her clothes off, caveman-style, but he was acting more like a gentleman. Wanting to get clean for her? He was sweet. And naughty, like the way he’d run his hands up her skirt. She liked it. The dichotomy.
“I’ll be quick,” he promised. “There’s beer in the fridge.”
He stepped into the small bathroom, and Cecily was free to snoop. The shower came on, and she heard the metal rings of the curtain being pulled back. She headed to the fridge and opened it, finding a six-pack of beer and not much else. Bachelor fridge, she thought. She took one of the twist-offs and opened it, hoping to gain a little more courage. Her heart was still hammering in her chest. She’d never done this before. Never been with a stranger. Never had sex with anyone she hadn’t known for at least a few weeks, if not a few months. She overplanned everything and that included her sex life.
She wandered to the shelves hanging near his couch, and saw only one photo: him and his dad, she presumed. He was young, just a kid, and his dad was holding a swordfish, an enormous game fish. They were standing on the back of what looked like a yacht. Maybe not his dad? But there was a definite family resemblance. His brown hair was longer, curlier, but his eyes, his nose, were exactly the same. She glanced around the humble apartment. She squinted at the photo again. No, the older man definitely had Liam’s eyes. They were related. Why was she so hung up on the photo? Probably just a rented boat, anyway. None of her business.
She glanced about but found that was the only photo in the place. She took another sip of the beer, and moved to the next shelf, where she found a row of books, including Dostoyevsky and Nietzsche. Not exactly the kind of reading she’d expect from a construction worker. Interesting. So he didn’t just have a body. He had a brain.
Huh.
Before she had time to really process that, the bathroom door opened, steam flowing out. She turned in time to see Liam there, wearing only a towel around his waist, his dirty blond hair wet and slicked back. Her jaw went slack. All she could do was gawk at the man. His chest, still wet from the shower, glistened in the light. His full pecs and clearly defined abs made her mouth go dry. Her focus rested on the impressive V, the muscles that pointed down beneath the knotted white towel. Her breath caught in her throat. She didn’t know the last time she’d seen a man this...gorgeous. Had she ever? Cecily wanted this. She needed this. She wanted that man in a way she hadn’t wanted anyone in a long, long time.
Liam ran a hand through his wet hair, his dark eyes finding hers. A whole lifetime of conversation passed between them then. If Cecily had any doubt that she’d go through with this little adventure, those doubts fled right in that moment. She took a step toward him, like a magnet drawn to metal. He was a force she couldn’t resist. And she didn’t want to even try. He stood stock-still, eyes locked with hers as she strode to him, putting her hand on his massive chest. She traced the edge of his muscles, her eyes following her own fingers and then lifting up to meet his gaze. She saw want there, and something deeper, something even more primal. All awkwardness evaporated right in that moment.
“Are you sure you want to?” he asked, as if still not quite sure how she’d come to be standing here in his apartment. And she didn’t know, either. All she knew was that this was exactly the medicine she needed right at this moment.
“I’m absolutely sure,” she said, and it was the truth. She craved this distraction. A way to finally, at long last, turn her brain off, forget about her worries. For just a night. Or hell, just a few minutes. With her hands on this man’s skin, she wasn’t thinking about the cancer diagnosis. The grim prognosis. She was just thinking about what she’d be doing in the next few moments. And that was a delicious gift.
She stepped back from him then, realizing that she was still fully clothed, and he was...nearly naked. She unzipped the side of her white linen sundress, and then she gently pulled one strap down, followed by the other. The dress’s built-in bra meant that as the dress pooled at her feet, she stood before him wearing nothing more than her lacy boy shorts. His dark eyes drank her in, slowly, appreciatively, as if he was attempting to memorize every curve. He took a step to her now, his eyes intent on her body. She almost felt worshipped with his gaze, but instantly dismissed the thought. She was sure he had gorgeous women throwing themselves at him all the time. But then, he put his hand on her face, delicately, gingerly, and pulled her in for a kiss.
His mouth touched hers and set off an electrical charge through her whole body. Every nerve ending came alive with his touch, as she pressed herself against his muscled chest, as she felt her soft body mold to his hard one. His tongue explored her mouth and she opened for him, wanting more of his lips, more of his tongue, more of his hands. She’d never felt so free before in her life, and she wondered if that’s because she only had a little time left. Cecily brushed the thought away as she wrapped her arms around his neck, thick with muscle. His calloused hands ran down her bare back and she shivered, loving the rough touch. She could feel the knot of his towel against her stomach, as he walked her backward, toward his bed. She went, willingly, her bare feet tracking on his clean, maple floor. She hit the bed with the backs of her knees and then sat down on it. She leaned forward and kissed a ridge of his abdomen, gently, provocatively, as he watched her trail more kisses downward, to the edge of his towel. His strong fingers undid the knot and the fuzzy terry cloth dropped away.
She saw him, full and at attention, bigger than she’d guessed. Cecily’s hands found him, wrapping around his amazing shaft. Normally, she’d never be so bold, never be so brazen, but if this was the last sex she might ever have in her life, then she damn well better make it count. She dipped down and flicked her tongue along his thick head. She never did this, but now, here, wanted to do it. For this beautiful man. Also, because, what were the chances she’d ever see him again? She could be as dirty, as naughty, as over-the-top as she liked. Liam groaned, and his head fell back, his brown hair still wet. A droplet of water rolled down his chest. Cecily could barely fit even the tip of him in her mouth, but did so, gladly. She loved hearing his moans of pleasure, loved hearing how she could make him groan. She worshipped him this way for a few more moments, relishing it, trying not to tell herself this could be the last time she ever had a man this way.
Then, Liam grasped her shoulders and pushed her backward, ever so slowly. She fell against his soft gray bedcovers, her back against his firm mattress. His eyes bore into hers, as he reached down and tugged at the waist of her pink lacy boy shorts. His big fingers pulled them downward, past her knees and ankles, then he tossed them on the floor.
“Your turn,” he told her, a command that reverberated in her chest. He knelt in front of the bed, pushing her knees open, and then he buried his head between them, his tongue finding her white-hot liquid center. Now it was her turn to gasp, a million different pleasure centers in her brain lighting up at once. He found the perfect rhythm: soft, amazing. She could no longer think about anything else but his tongue on her, nothing at all but his perfectly soft and wet tongue. She’d never had a man so skilled, never had a man like this, who seemed to know exactly what she needed, exactly how to touch her. She almost laughed out loud thinking about how she’d deliberately avoided casual sex her whole life, how she’d always been a “good” girl, never going home with a stranger. Why had she been avoiding this all her life?
She wrapped her hands in Liam’s thick, damp hair and held on for dear life. His gentle touch lured her body ever closer to the edge. She felt like she was on a roller coaster now, strapped in, ticking ever closer to the peak. With each swipe of his hungry tongue, she found herself closer to the top, and then the ground fell out from below her, gravity disappeared and she was soaring, her body awash in wave after wave of pleasure. Pleasure lit her up from the inside, seized every nerve ending in her body, as she rode the wave. She heard a loud cry, and realized, with a start, it was coming from her, ripped from her throat. Her body lay exhausted, as she panted, sucking in air, her heart thumping against her rib cage. Liam lifted his head, a cocky smile on his face.
“That good, huh?” he quipped. And that’s when she realized that scream probably alerted the entire building to just how good it was.
“I didn’t mean to be so loud,” Cecily said, embarrassment warming her face.
“Be as loud as you want,” he murmured, kissing her inner thigh. “I like it. Tells me I’m on the right track.”
“Oh, you definitely are.” She’d never come so fast in all her life. Never been so swept up in the moment.
He reached over to the small drawer of his side table and pulled out a condom. “Good. Because now I’m headed to the finish line.”
He rolled the length of latex along his thick self, and then he positioned himself between her legs. She couldn’t believe it, barely could wrap her head around the fact that she’d just met this man, and now here she was, ready to accept him, ready to take him in. She knew most adults did this—casual sex—but she’d always been one to overthink everything. To worry about the what-ifs, to talk herself out of anything that carried even a little bit of risk. But not anymore. Not now, not when she might have such little time left. Right now, she couldn’t think about it. Her whole body felt so electrically alive, pulsing with pure energy. She didn’t feel sick. She didn’t feel like she was dying.
She felt, a little, like she was only starting to live.
Liam entered her then, and she gasped, rising to meet him as she clutched at his shoulders, holding on for dear life. This, she realized, as her body opened for him, as they became one, was exactly what she needed. This might not be her cure, but it damn sure would be her painkiller.