Chapter 37 #2
The world is full of possibilities suddenly. It’s Liam. When we’re together, I feel like we can lift this brewery up out of its troubles and shake them off as easily as if they were cobwebs.
My gaze lowers to the plaque that has hung over my head for as long as I can remember. Those awful, cruel words, telling me that I wasn’t enough.
“I want to chop it into firewood,” I say. “I want to feel it breaking. But first…”
I release him and approach the barrel. Holding his gaze, I step out of my shoes, then slowly strip off my stockings and panties and climb onto the plaque-topped barrel.
“I want you to fuck me while I’m sitting on top of it.”
“You have a thing for criminals?” he asks as he stalks closer, one corner of his mouth lifting higher than the other in a positively wicked smile. He captures each of my thighs with his hands.
“I have a thing for you. I want you, Liam. I want the man who cares enough to take a very stupid risk to make me feel better.” I grip the collar of his shirt and pull him in for a kiss. “And you better never, ever do something that stupid again.”
“Yes, boss.”
He grins at me as he spreads my thighs wide, his fingers pressing into my flesh in a way that adds to my excitement. One of his hands drifts up, caressing, and settles at my center, rubbing rough circles that send pleasure coursing through me.
I’m so ready for him, so needy. It’s only been a few days since he was last inside me, but it feels like a year.
“Now, Liam. Now,” I whisper. “I need you inside me.”
He reaches down, and the sight of him unbuckling his belt with his big, callused hands is nearly enough to make me come in anticipation.
When he steps toward me, I scoot to the very edge of the plaque and wrap my legs around him.
He takes my mouth in a kiss as he thrusts into me, the back of the plaque banging sharply against the wall.
An almost feral sense of pleasure floods me as I cling to him, pushing up to meet his thrusts.
He keeps kissing me as he moves inside me, and I suck on his lips and tongue.
I want all of him, everywhere. I want to paint my name on his body with my lips.
We’re both wild with need, and it doesn’t take us long to finish. Me first, taking him over the edge. He finishes inside me, his face buried in my hair, but keeps his arms wrapped around me like he doesn’t want to let me go.
“I don’t want to lose you,” he whispers into my hair. “I can’t lose you again.”
When he finally lifts me up off the plaque and sets me on my feet, I kiss him before looking back at it.
It’s cracked right down the middle, and I feel an effervescent sense of joy.
We’re breaking all the rules.
In fact…
“I don’t want to hide this,” I say as he zips up his pants. “I don’t want us to be together in secret. If we’re going to try this, I want it to be out in the open. Even if people talk.”
He lifts my hand and kisses it, his gaze holding mine. “People are going to talk anyway. It’s impossible to keep them from talking. Believe me when I say I’ve tried.”
“So you’re okay with openly dating your boss?” I ask doubtfully. I know people will have plenty to say about each of us—me, the na?ve woman being influenced by a stronger man; him, screwing his way to the top.
“I told you, Princess, I don’t care what most people think. People can gossip all they want. All the better if it drives customers through our doors. I don’t care about that. I want to be with you.”
“Good. Because…” Heart pounding, I admit, “I’m falling in love with you. Does that freak you out?”
“Yes,” he says, but he’s smiling. His whole face is lit up from within, and he lifts a hand up to cradle my chin. “I still feel like I’m going to mess everything up. But I’m glad you feel that way, because I’m desperately in love with you.”
He kisses me, his hand still possessively cupped around my chin, and I kiss him back again and again.
After we clean up in the staff bathroom, Liam fills both of our flutes with the beer, and we settle into the chairs.
“Have you tried it yet?” I ask, smiling.
“No. We’ll know at the same time if it’s complete shit. Seemed only right. But please, for the love of God, don’t pretend for my sake.”
“I don’t think I’ll have to.” I pick up my flute and lift it into the air. “To Silver Star.” I hesitate, then speak my heart. “To being a team.”
“You’ve brought me around to the idea.”
We stare into each other’s eyes as we lift our flutes for the first sip.
Relief washes over me, because I won’t have to decide whether or not to pretend.
“It’s delicious,” I say, still tasting the crisp bright pop of the bubbles. “It’s perfect, Liam. It feels like New Year’s.”
“Thank Christ,” he says with a snort, but I see the light in his eyes. He knows it’s good too, and he’s proud of himself, as he should be. “Now can I take you home? Because I’d really like to take you back to my place. Maybe I’ll keep you there.”
I smile at him, feeling perfectly happy. “Karma wouldn’t like it.”
He nudges my foot under the table. “You’re welcome to bring your pussy.”
I laugh, shaking my head ruefully. “She’ll be delighted to hear it. But I want to go to the boxing gym first. I think it would do us good to throw some punches.” I gesture to the broken plaque. “And we need to make firewood. I think we should have a bonfire at the party.”
His lips curl into a half smile. “We can toast marshmallows.”
We stop at my apartment first. I can’t go anywhere for the night without feeding Karma, but Liam also insists those gloves he gave me weren’t meant to be cuddled but to be used. Once we’ve collected them, we head straight to the gym.
The first time we went there, it felt like I was intruding on some macho man’s world. The second…I was only paying attention to Liam. Now, it feels like it’s become another place that’s ours.
He shows me the new heavy bag Mick acquired, and we practice for fifteen minutes or so, listening to “Eye of the Tiger” at my request. Then we head out to the parking lot with the axe Mick keeps inside for fire emergency preparedness to chop the plaque into tiny little pieces.
I shout out a war cry before dealing my first blow.
Which makes it more embarrassing when I barely dent it.
Liam smiles at me before easily delivering a blow that severs it. But he hands it back over. “Try it again.”
And I do. Again and again, until my arms ache, getting a few pieces cut off before he does the rest of the work. We stuff the chopped wood into the back of his truck and put a tarp over it.
He takes me to his apartment, which is small but tidy, with a brew room larger than his bedroom and a guitar mounted on the wall in the living room.
It feels good to be with him in his space, in his bed.
Neither of us can sleep, so we stay up late talking.
Plotting for Silver Star as if its future isn’t still uncertain.
But we don’t have to wait for the party to get answers to all our unvoiced questions. Because when we come in the next morning, there’s a couple of inches of standing water on the tasting room floor and another six in the back.
My dream is underwater, and I have a pretty good idea who put it there.