10. Amy
Amy
Lucky dashes ahead, kicking up sand. Her little legs carry her back and forth in frantic, random paths across the beach as she chases seagulls. They want nothing to do with her, of course. I laugh as she bounces around, completely oblivious to their annoyance.
"She's having the time of her life." Liam's arm brushes against mine, sending tingles across my skin.
I glance over, admiring his profile. The sun glints off his hair, turning it to burnished gold. "Chasing birds is her favorite thing ever, besides treats."
"What about belly rubs?"
"Oh, she loves those. But only from people she trusts." I shoot him a mischievous look. "She has discerning tastes."
His lips quirk. "I see. And what does it take to earn the trust of a discerning lady like Lucky?"
My heart does a little flip at the flirtatious lilt in his voice. "Hmmm. Treats help. And a gentle touch."
"I'll keep that in mind."
We continue on, dodging the crowds of beachgoers. Liam shakes his head as we weave between a group of college-aged guys throwing a frisbee. "Is it always this busy?"
"It's the beach. It's summer. It's California." I shrug. "Tourists."
"Ah. The bane of every local's existence."
"So, you're not from around here, then?" I try to keep my question casual, but I'm probing.
He grins. "Was it that easy to tell? No." His gaze drifts to Lucky, who's now rolling in a pile of kelp. "It's not bad here, though. Especially with such cute company."
I laugh. "Don't let her hear you say that. It'll go straight to her head."
As if on cue, Lucky bounds up to Liam, little paws batting at his knees.
"Well, hello there." He crouches down to pet her. "Are you having fun?"
She pants and licks his hand, then takes off again, no doubt to find more birds to terrorize.
"I think that means yes." I grin at him, feeling lighter than I have in ages. "She's officially decided you're good people."
Liam stands, brushing sand off his shorts. His eyes meet mine, crinkling at the corners. "I'm honored."
We walk again, close enough that our fingers almost touch. The salty breeze tugs at my hair, the sun warm on my skin.
Lucky's developed a funny little prance as she dances about on the sand, keeping both of our attention. Still, at least seventy percent of my brain is focused on the places where our arms brush occasionally, sending my heart into a ridiculous, uncoordinated patter.
I glance over at Liam, curiosity getting the better of me. "So, you're not a driver. What do you do for a living, then?"
He winks, a playful gleam in his eye. "Would you believe me if I said I was retired?"
I roll my eyes, fighting back a grin. "Not even close, mister. You're nowhere near retirement age."
"Oh, really?" He arches a brow. "And just how old are you, then?"
"Twenty-one," I answer without hesitation.
Liam stops dead in his tracks, staring at me in obvious surprise. I can't help but laugh at his expression. "What, do I look that old? Gee, thanks."
"No, no, not at all." He shakes his head vehemently. "Quite the opposite, actually." The way he says it sends my heart fluttering in my chest.
He runs a hand through his hair, looking a bit chagrined. "It's that I'm a solid thirty-four. Trying to adjust my thinking process so I don't feel like a total sleaze for kissing you earlier. Shit. I'm robbing the fucking cradle here."
I can't contain it anymore. I burst out laughing, the sound carrying across the beach. "Oh my God, your face! What, do you think twenty-one is the same is sixteen? Get over it, Liam."
Lucky comes bounding over, drawn by the commotion. She jumps up at Liam's legs, tail wagging a mile a minute.
He reaches down to pet her, chuckling. "See? Even your dog is judging me."
"She is not." I crouch beside him, ruffling Lucky's ears. "She's excited because she thinks you're going to play with her."
Liam glances at me, a soft smile playing about his lips. "Is that so?"
"Mmhmm." I meet his gaze, feeling the sparks of flirtation between us. "She has good taste."
"Well, in that case..." He straightens, brushing the sand from his knees. "Who am I to disappoint a lady?"
With that, he takes off down the beach, Lucky barking wildly as she chases after him. I watch them go, my heart doing a funny little flip in my chest.
Thirty-four, huh? The age gap should bother me more than it does. But right now, with the sun on my face and the sound of Liam's laughter mingling with the crash of the waves, I can't bring myself to care.
Though, it feels like I might be missing something.
Eh.
If it's important, I'll remember it later.
Leaving Lucky in the hotel room alone makes me a little nervous. She's asleep on the bed and completely zonked, but I have a few thoughts of what I'm going to do if she eats a cord or pees on the bed.
Maybe I should have put her in the carrier, after all.
But I'm already in the elevator, so… maybe not.
I adjust the straps on my little black dress, smoothing my hands down my curves. This dress hugs every inch, leaving little to the imagination. It requires a metric fuckton of confidence I like to fake having and some expensive Spanx to suck me in, but I manage to pull off the dress.
I don't look like a model. I never will. But at least I look fuckable, and that's what I'm going for.
Perfect for a hot date, but is it too much for drinks with a guy I met today? Even if that meeting included the hottest kiss I've had in forever...
The elevator dings and I'm suddenly back in that moment with Liam. His clean scent filling my head, his firm chest pressed against me, his fingers digging into my hips. The way his mouth devoured me.
Shit. I should have brought spare panties. At this rate, they're going to be soaked before my first drink.
Chill, Amy. It's just drinks. In a public hotel bar. With an insanely attractive man who kisses like he means it.
He said he's thirty-four, right? Right around Asher's age, and Sam says that he's the hottest sex of her life.
Maybe this is my Asher.
I press my cool fingers to my heated face and will myself not to combust before I see him. The last thing I need is to show up at the bar looking like I've already had a few too many.
The elevator slows and my stomach flips. This is it. I take one more fortifying breath as the doors slide open. You can do this. Be cool.
I step out, my favorite pair of fuck-me heels (every girl has them, don't even judge me) sinking into the plush carpet.
The hotel bar is to the left, and it's packed. People spill out into the lobby, and it looks like standing room only in that bitch. Holy shit. How many people around here can afford overpriced drinks at a ritzy hotel?
Willing myself not to trip like an idiot, I take the mincing steps required of my bodycon skirt, taking solace in the fact that I might walk with the speed of a snail, but my hips wiggle with the best of them.
Warm, firm hands slide around my waist from behind, pulling me back against a solid chest. I'd know that clean, spicy scent anywhere.
"Hello, angel," Liam murmurs, his words tickling my ear. Goosebumps prickle my skin.
"Liam." His name comes out on a soft breath. "I thought we were meeting at the bar."
"The bar's five feet away, but I couldn't wait that long to see you." His hands splay across my stomach, his touch searing through the thin fabric of my dress. "Besides, I figured I'd rescue you from having to wade through that crowd in those sexy heels."
I laugh, but it comes out more like a gasp when he nips at my earlobe. "How chivalrous of you."
"I'm a regular knight in shining armor." He presses a kiss to the side of my neck and I tilt my head, giving him better access. "You look stunning, by the way. Good enough to eat. I can't think of anything else. Fuck, you smell good."
I turn in his arms, my hands sliding up his chest to link behind his neck. He's wearing a black button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled up, exposing his tanned forearms. The color makes his blue eyes pop, bringing out that hint of green. "You don't look so bad yourself."
His hands skim down my sides to settle on my hips, his thumbs rubbing distracting circles that make me shiver. "What do you say we get out of here? Go somewhere a little more private?"
Warning bells go off in my head. We don't know each other. This is supposed to be nothing more than drinks. But my body is practically vibrating with need, every nerve ending alight from his touch.
I search his face, trying to find some hint that this is more than physical for him. That I'm not another hookup. But his expression gives nothing away, his eyes dark with desire.
"I was promised drinks," I say, instead of saying let's go to my room , like I want. Like my vagina wants, weeping when I go for the safer route.
He leans forward until our foreheads touch, and this close, I can smell spearmint. He brushed his teeth.
"I did. I did promise a drink. Damn. I'm going insane every time I see you. Does this dress even count as clothing?"
I glance down at my dress, confused by Liam's reaction. Sure, it's form-fitting, but it's not like my tits are hanging out. I've worn way more scandalous outfits on stream.
"It isn't as bad as some," I argue, smoothing my hands over my skirt self-consciously.
Liam groans, his fingers flexing against my waist. "I'm imagining every inch of skin under there. That's it. I'm going to hell."
Heat floods my face at his words, desire pooling low in my belly. "You're not going to hell for finding me attractive."
"No, I'm going to hell for all the filthy things I want to do to you." His voice is a low rumble that I feel in my bones. "I want to worship every curve, taste every freckle. I want to make you come apart in my hands, in my mouth. I want to bury myself so deep inside you that you forget your own name."
My breath catches. Every single, unholy word drives desire straight home into the sensitive little place between my legs.
Did I think he was a perfect gentleman?
Holy shit. No one has ever talked to me like this before. I'm used to juvenile come-ons and crass suggestions, not this sensual seduction that has me ready to beg him to take me against the nearest wall.
"Liam..." It comes out as a needy whimper, and I don't care.
His lips brush the shell of my ear. "Tell me you want me, angel. Tell me I'm not alone in this."
"I want you." The words tumble out, raw and honest. "I've never wanted anyone more."
He makes a low noise that might be a growl before his mouth is on mine, hot and demanding. I melt into him, into the kiss, my fingers tangling in his hair. His tongue sweeps into my mouth, claiming me, consuming me.
Someone nearby wolf-whistles, reminding me that we're still in the lobby. In public. Making out like horny teenagers.
I break the kiss with a gasp, then laugh when I see him flipping the random whistler the bird.
Liam's hand engulfs mine as he pulls me through the throng of people crowding the bar entrance. My heels slip on the polished floor, struggling to match his longer stride. But his steps remain slow, measured, letting me keep pace.
Our fingers lace together like puzzle pieces snapping into place. Like they were made to fit together. His hand is warm, slightly calloused. Working hands. Capable hands.
He leads us to a table tucked away in the corner, the crowd parting before him like they can sense his quiet authority.
"I had them reserve this earlier," he says, releasing my hand to pull out a chair, waiting for me to sit. It's a simple gesture, but it makes my heart flip. "I wanted to make sure we'd have a quiet spot to ourselves."
My heart won't stop fluttering at the thought he put into this. The entire time, I thought about sex. He was thinking about… this. Romance. A date.
My knee brushes against his as he takes the seat beside me, and somehow sitting next to each other is so much better than sitting across.
I feel like an infatuated teenager.
That's when I notice the vase in the center of the table. A single rose stands tall, its crimson petals gilded in gold. There's a subtle shimmer to it under the dim lighting of the bar. I can't tell if it's real.
"Oh wow," I breathe, reaching out to touch one of the delicate petals. I expect to feel the velvety softness, but instead I'm met with cool, hard edges. Glass. Or ceramic, maybe. Not a real rose at all, but a stunningly crafted imitation.
Liam's watching me, a small smile playing at the corners of his mouth. He takes my hand again, his thumb rubbing circles over my knuckles. "Do you like it?"
I meet his gaze, his blue eyes dark and intent. "It's beautiful. I've never seen anything like it."
"It made me think of you," he says, his voice low and intimate despite the dull roar of conversation around us. "Unique. Captivating. A golden rose among the ordinary."
Heat rushes to my cheeks at the compliment. No one's ever said anything like that to me before. I've been called hot, sexy, fuckable. But never captivating. Never golden.
"Thank you," I manage, my voice coming out breathy and thin. "That's... really sweet of you to say."
His smile widens, a flash of white teeth. "Just being honest, angel."