11. Amy
Amy
It's hard to concentrate.
I have whiskey and coke.
He has a margarita, and yes, I tease him about it. But he shares it, and it's delicious.
Our feet collide every so often beneath the table until eventually my feet rest between his. It's cozy. Cute.
Except I'm pulsing with desire for the entire hour and a half that we're sitting there. It's like delicious torture every time his eyes drop to my lips, or he reaches for my hand across the table, brushing his thumb over my knuckles.
We laugh. We banter. There's a lot of teasing. I don't remember any of it.
I only remember how much I want to beg him to take me upstairs and get his fucking hands on me.
The crowd around us grows, and someone sitting behind me keeps bumping into me with her chair. After the third time, Liam stands to grab my chair and set it on the other side of his, our backs now to the wall.
Now his thigh brushes against mine, a searing heat that has me wanting more.
I take another sip of Liam's margarita, savoring the sweetness. He chuckles, a low rumble that sends shivers down my spine.
"You know, I'm going to have to start charging you for that."
Heat coils in my belly, desire making me bold. I shoot him a look over the rim of the glass, one eyebrow arched. "Oh? And what's the price for each mouthful?"
His eyes darken, gaze dropping to my lips. "Depends what you're offering."
I lean in, pulse quickening. "What do you want?"
"You first."
I set the glass down deliberately. Lick my lips. His eyes track the movement, hungry. "A kiss," I whisper. "One kiss per sip."
"You drive a hard bargain." But he's already leaning in, one hand cupping my jaw. "I suppose that's fair."
"Wait." I press a finger to his lips. Slowly, I take another sip. Bigger this time. His pupils dilate. "Okay. Now you can kiss me."
"Greedy girl," he murmurs. But then his mouth is on mine and I forget how to breathe.
This kiss is different from the one in the hall. Deeper. Filthier. His tongue curls around mine, strawberry-sweet. I whimper into his mouth, fingers tangling in his hair. Dragging him closer. He groans, hand tightening on my thigh. His fingers inch beneath my skirt, but they're still too far from where I want them to be.
We break apart, panting. My lips tingle.
"Fuck," he breathes. "You taste incredible."
"So do you." I'm drunk with him already. Craving more.
His fingers flex against my thigh before he deliberately leans back, bringing space between us.
I'd be disappointed, but when he scoots his chair back and pulls me onto his lap, there's no room for disappointment at all.
My ass wiggles against the thick length straining against his pants, and he bites my shoulder in gentle warning.
So I push back in a long, slow movement, hearing him groan against my skin.
We're in public, and people are probably staring. It's amazing how little I give a shit. It's so crowded that most people aren't going to see much, anyway.
A quick glance around assures me that they're all too busy staring at their own dates, hoping for a hot night.
Not as hot as mine, though.
"I should stop. I think this counts as corrupting the new generation. My room's already reserved in hell."
"You sound like a boomer or something," I mutter. His hands spread my knees apart, hooking my legs on the outside of his.
Thank fucking God I didn't pack one of my bodysuit slimmers that come together at my crotch. Instead, this one's a long tank that sucks my belly in, and I can feel it rolling up from my hips, unhinged and disrupted from its role in keeping me snatched and sexy.
But that's the least of my concerns.
My bodycon skirt slides up my legs, unable to stretch enough for what he's doing to me. My clit pulses with a need so strong I'm about to go insane.
Those gorgeous fingers are on my thighs, digging in. I slide my hands over his and guide them higher.
And higher.
Until he's lightly stroking against my panties, which were soaked before I got off the elevator.
I bite back a moan when I feel him sneaking a finger ever so slowly beneath the elastic band of my underwear, only to be distracted by soft, breathy kisses against the nape of my neck.
There's some sort of loud pop song on the radio, and my hips gyrate to the beat.
This should all be so awkward—me, not a tiny woman, in his lap at a relatively small table.
It should look ridiculous. Maybe it does.
But right now? It feels sexy. Sinful. Amazing.
When his fingers slide my panties to the side and brush against the velvety soft skin there, wet and ready for all the adventure, I buck my hips forward, trying to get a firmer touch.
But his fingers skitter out of reach in a delicious tease.
Damn it.
"Shh, angel. They'll hear you."
Shit, I'm whining. I press my lips together until they ache, determined to stay silent as he toys with me.
And I break that vow a second later when his finger swoops back in, gliding right over the places I want him to linger.
The man's got me like putty in his hand, and he's playing with me .
I'm so out of my league, it isn't even funny. And all we've done is exchange a little heavy petting.
Wait, no. There's been no exchange. It's been pretty one-sided, and I'm splayed across his lap, legs open, in the middle of a fucking crowded bar.
I've lost my ever-loving mind.
"We should get out of here," Liam murmurs, his breath hot against my ear.
He's right, but his fingers are right there , tapping and rubbing right at the entrance, driving me mad as my hips quiver.
I need his fingers deep inside, and he's not fucking delivering.
There's nothing more important than that right now. So I shake my head like a fucking brat, thinking only of his fingers teasing me beneath my skirt. "Don't wanna."
Someone can see everything he's doing, but they'd have to duck under the table to do so—I hope.
He chuckles, low and dark, and it does all kinds of naughty things to my insides, making me squirm. "Calm down, baby girl. Our server's coming over."
That, at least, is a bucket of cold water.
My head whips up and I squeak when I realize he's right. The perky blonde who'd taken our drink order earlier is headed straight for our table, a friendly smile on her face.
Liam's hand disappears from between my legs, tugging my skirt down, and I nearly whimper at the loss. How am I supposed to function like this? I'm so wound up I can't think straight.
"Hi there!" the server chirps as she reaches us. "How are we doing? Can I get you two anything else?"
Her eyes are a little too blatantly friendly at Liam, and I want to claw them out of her face.
Down, Amy. Down. You're a normal girl with normal morals. You don't go around hurting people.
Seriously, I've never been in a fight. Ever. I'm pretty sure I'd lose to a mouse. But at least I'd shit-talk it as it walked away in victory.
"Just the check, please," Liam says smoothly.
"Sure thing!" She bustles off again, and I slump back against Liam's chest.
"You're evil," I inform him, with all the salty demeanor of a woman unsatisfied.
"And you're insatiable." He nips at my earlobe, making me shiver. "I like that."
"Yeah?" I can't help arching into him a little. "What else do you like?"
"Fishing for compliments?" His hands skim up my sides, thumbs brushing the undersides of my breasts through my dress. I bite my lip hard. "I like how responsive you are. How much you want me. I've hardly touched you and you're already shaking for it."
He's not wrong. I'm trembling in his lap, my body screaming for more of his touch. I manage to tip my head back to look at him, my eyes heavy-lidded. "Take me to bed, Liam. Please."
His pupils flare, eclipsing the blue of his irises. "And I love when you beg."
The server returns with the check and Liam hardly glances at it before scrawling his signature and handing it back with his room key. "Charge it to the room, please."
Then he's urging me up and I somehow get my shaky legs under me. His arm loops around my waist, anchoring me to his side. I can feel the thick ridge of his erection against my hip as we walk, and it makes the very core of me throb.
God, I need him inside me.