11. Liam
11
LIAM
The sterile white walls of the hospital fade behind me as I step out into the crisp evening air. The park next door, a haven of green amid the urban sprawl, beckons with the promise of a quiet moment to myself. Pushing my hands into the pockets of my scrubs, I inhale deeply, the scent of freshly cut grass and blooming wildflowers filling my lungs.
On a nearby bench sits a lone figure, a familiar brown bottle glinting in the waning sunlight. Damon. A smile tugs at my lips as I approach him. “Living the life, I see,” I murmur, stopping a few feet away.
He looks up, a playful glint in his eyes. “Care to join the party, Doc? This view's a whole lot better than those four white walls you're used to. Goes well with the alcohol.” He holds up the bottle, his question hanging in the air.
I chuckle, shaking my head. “Tempting, but even off-duty, alcohol and hospitals don't exactly mix.”
“Man, my job’s better. I can drink any damn time of the day,” Damon jokes, lifting his bottle in a mock toast.
I sit down beside him, shaking my head with a smile. “Why are you here? You sick or something?”
“Can’t a guy visit his friend anymore?” Damon retorts, feigning offense. “Just here to do booze and stare off into the horizon.”
“Well, there you are. Unfortunately, you’ll have to do the booze alone.”
He snorts, a smile crinkling the corners of his eyes. “Ah, come on, live a little. Navy life didn't exactly encourage responsible drinking, did it?”
The memory of our wild days in the Navy brings a wave of nostalgia crashing over me. We spend the next few minutes reminiscing, sharing stories of drunken escapades and near-death experiences that only veterans can understand. As the sun dips lower, casting long shadows across the park, the conversation turns more personal.
“So,” Damon begins, tilting his head toward me, “how are things going with the lovely Emma? Has the daredevil charm of Dr. Liam finally rubbed off on her?”
“Things are good,” I reply, trying to sound casual. In truth, things are more than good. They are confusing, exhilarating, and downright frustrating all at the same time.
Damon raises an eyebrow. “Good? You know Emma wouldn't have dreamed of a public display of affection two weeks ago. What happened?”
A chuckle escapes my lips. “Let's just say she's got a wild side most people wouldn't expect.” The memory of our heated kiss in the alleyway flashes through my mind, sending a jolt of heat through me.
He shakes his head, a wistful smile playing on his lips. “Emma's always been…special. Strong-willed, independent, the kind of woman who marches to the beat of her own drum. Take care of her, Liam. She deserves someone who can handle her fire.” A flicker of worry crosses his features. “She's fragile, you know. Despite the tough exterior.”
A pang of guilt twists in my gut. Suddenly, the whole charade we've started feels less like playful revenge and more like a potential minefield. Am I messing with something I shouldn't?
“Don't worry, Damon,” I assure him, my voice forced into lightness. “I know what I'm doing.” But even as the words leave my mouth, a sliver of doubt remains.
Just then, the topic shifts to the wedding. Damon enthusiastically launches into a list of best-man duties, his voice filled with excitement. I listen, a half-smile on my face, as he outlines his vision for a bachelor party that would make Vegas blush. In response, I playfully threaten to sic June on him, knowing full well the lioness within her will roar if he crosses any lines.
Our laughter is interrupted by the sharp trill of my phone. Pulling it out of my pocket, I see Emma's name on the screen. A grin spreads across my face. Has she finally caved?
“Hey,” I answer, my voice adopting a casual tone.
“Liam, where are you? Are you still on duty?” Her voice, laced with a hint of urgency, drifts through the phone.
“No, I'm at the park next to the hospital. Finished my shift a while ago,” I explain. “What's up?”
“Good. I'm coming to pick you up.” She doesn't wait for a reply before hanging up.
I glance at Damon, who raises his eyebrows in a question. “That was Emma,” I say, a surge of excitement coursing through me. “She's on her way to get me.”
He claps me on the shoulder, a knowing smirk on his face. “Well, don't keep the lady waiting, Doc. Go get 'em, tiger.”
With a wink and a final chuckle, Damon gets up and saunters off, leaving me alone in the park, my heart pounding with a mix of anticipation and wariness. The playful banter with Damon has been a welcome distraction, but his words echo in my mind: “She's fragile, you know. Despite the tough exterior.” Is this whole charade with Emma a ticking time bomb waiting to explode?
Sure, she surprised me with the kiss in the alleyway, a fiery display of defiance that threw me off-balance. But is there more to her than just anger and a desire to get back at me?
The sound of a car engine approaching jolts me from my thoughts. Peering through the trees, I see Emma's sleek red car pull up to the curb. Her window rolls down and she leans out, her expression unreadable.
“Get in,” she commands, her voice clipped and devoid of the playful banter we've exchanged earlier. There is a tension in the air, a sense of unspoken urgency that both intrigues and worries me.
Without a word, I jog over to the car and slide into the passenger seat. She slams the car into gear and pulls away, leaving the park behind in a blur of streetlights and passing cars. Neither of us speaks, the silence thick and heavy in the confined space.
Finally, unable to bear the suspense any longer, I clear my throat. “So,” I start, my voice sounding rough in the silence, “what's going on? You said you were coming to pick me up. Is everything alright?”
She remains focused on the road, her lips a tight line. For a moment, I think she won't answer. Then, to my surprise, a single word escapes her lips.
Stepping into Emma's car, I buckle up and steal a glance at her. She's dressed in a cute sundress, the kind that hugs her curves in all the right places. A jolt of something pleasant, a mix of surprise and appreciation, shoots through me. Is she trying to impress me? The thought sparks a tiny flicker of hope in my chest.
“So,” I begin, clearing my throat, “what's going on? You said everything was okay.”
She glances at me briefly, a flicker of something unreadable crossing her face. “It is,” she says, her voice clipped. “But that doesn't mean we can't get started on your end of the bargain, does it?”
My smile falters. “Bargain?” Here we go, I think, the charade rearing its ugly head once again.
“Yes, the bargain,” she replies, a hint of annoyance creeping into her voice. “I agreed to be your fake girlfriend, remember? Our deal includes helping me plan the wedding.”
Disappointment washes over me. I’d been hoping for something…more. “Planning a wedding?” I echo, trying to mask my frustration. “That's why you needed me?”
“Well, duh,” she says, rolling her eyes. “Do you think I want to spend three hours driving to meet a florist in the middle of nowhere all by myself? Besides, you need practice acting like my fiancé, don't you?”
She has a point, but it doesn’t make the situation any less annoying. With a sigh, I slump back in my seat as she pulls out of the driveway. The next three hours are a blur of highway hypnosis and a battle for control of the aux cord.
“Seriously, Emma?” I groan as a syrupy ballad fills the car. “This isn't elevator music. It's comatose music.”
She shoots me a playful glare. “Hey, this is a classic! It brings back good memories.”
“Memories of what, falling asleep during your teenage slumber parties?” I counter with a smirk.
“Oh, ha-ha,” she retorts, her cheeks flushing slightly. “Fine, here.” She switches the song to a classic rock anthem, the kind that makes you want to air guitar and sing along at the top of your lungs.
“That's more like it!” I exclaim, a grin spreading across my face.
The next few minutes are filled with us singing along—terribly off-key, of course—and laughing at each other's attempts at mimicking guitar solos. The tension from earlier seems to dissipate, replaced by a comfortable camaraderie that surprises me.
But just as the good vibes are starting to flow, she announces, “Next exit.”
“What? Already?” I protest. “We just started getting into a groove here.”
She pulls the car off the exit and onto a winding country road. “Groove or not, we have a florist to meet. She's supposed to be the best in the area.”
“The best in the area,” I grumble, “or just the most inconveniently located?”
“Both, apparently,” she concedes with a shrug. “But trust me, it's worth it.”
The florist turns out to be a quaint little shop tucked away in a sleepy town. Inside, a riot of colors and floral fragrances greets us. Emma, for all her initial resistance, transforms into a whirlwind of efficiency.
She peruses arrangements, interrogates the florist about flower varieties and lifespan, and even haggles over the price. While she works her magic, I find myself watching her, mesmerized by her passion and tenacity. There is a fire in her eyes, a sharp intelligence that goes beyond just picking out pretty flowers.
At one point, she picks up a bouquet of lilies, their pristine white petals catching the sunlight. “These are perfect,” she declares, holding them up for my approval. “But wouldn't a touch of greenery add some balance?”
“Actually,” I interject, surprising myself, “I think a single red rose tucked in there would add a pop of color and a touch of…passion.”
She turns to me, a surprised look on her face. Then, a slow smile spreads across her lips. “You know what? You're right. Let's see if they have any red roses.”
The florist produces a single, perfect rose, and Emma places it amongst the lilies. Stepping back to admire her handiwork, she beams at me. “See? You're not such a lost cause, after all, Dr. Miller.”
The way she says my name, the genuine appreciation in her eyes, sends a jolt through me. My heart pounds a frantic rhythm against my ribs, a reaction I can't quite explain.
Careful, Liam, I warn myself silently, a knot of something akin to fear tightening in my gut. This woman could have you wrapped around her little finger before you know it.
The drive back is filled with comfortable silence. The tension from earlier has been replaced by a newfound respect, a sense of having accomplished something together. As we near her house, she turns to me, her expression unreadable.
“Thanks for your help today, Liam,” she says, her voice soft.
“Don't mention it,” I reply, trying to sound casual. But the truth is, I wouldn't have minded spending another three hours bickering over music and haggling with florists if it meant being with her.
Suddenly, she pulls the car over onto the side of the road, the tires crunching on the gravel shoulder. My heart skips a beat, unsure of what’s coming next. She turns in her seat, her face inches from mine.
“You deserve this for being supportive,” she adds, her voice barely a whisper. Before I can react, she leans in, her lips meeting mine in a soft, unexpected kiss.
It isn’t like the fiery explosion in the alleyway. The kiss sends a wave of heat crashing through me. Her lips are soft, warm, and taste faintly of the cherry lip balm she always wears.
She grabs my shirt and pulls me closer, sliding her tongue into my mouth. The kisses deepen, gaining urgency with time, and she starts to pull off my clothes.
I lift my arms as she pulls my shirt from the pants. Her hands immediately dive under my shirt to run over my ribs and abs, circling my navel and then traveling down my hips, tickling the trail of hair that leads lower. Then she grips the hard shape of me bulging beneath my pants.
“Fuck, Emma.” I groan into our kiss.
“Yes, Liam. Tell me,” she whispers against my lips. “Tell me what you want.”
“You.” I groan.
She breaks the kiss and stares deep into my eyes, smiling. “Then you can have me, Liam.”
Her mouth descends on mine again, and she bites my lower lip. The mix of pain and pleasure spurs me on. I feel my cock start to throb as my hand travels under her dress, gripping her panties.
“Rip them,” she whispers into my ear. “I don’t want you holding back, Liam.”
I obey her, my hands shaking as I tear the panties off her. The sound of the fabric ripping across her skin heightens the tension. Emma unbuckles her seat belt and climbs over. She shoves me against the seat and straddles my lap. She doesn’t take her eyes off mine as she hurriedly unbuttons my shirt, and then her head disappears against my shirt as she nibbles my nipples, biting them softly, then she blows a hot breeze on them before lapping them with her tongue.
“Fucking hell, Emma.” I throw my head back and growl toward the car roof.
“Yes, Liam. I want you to fuck me.”
There’s an uncontrollable lust storming between us now. My mind shuts down every sense except for the one that feels her pleasure and is desperate to give it back. I grab her head and slam my lips back on hers, feeling her breasts press against my bare chest and her naked lap gliding across mine. With frantic hands, she unbuckles my belt, whipping it free of the loops and tossing it somewhere. We both pull at my pants, managing to drag them down my legs.
“The condom,” I gasp. “I always have one in my wallet, just in case.”
“Good boy,” she growls.
She rummages through my fallen pant pockets and finally comes out with the protection. Slowly, she slips it over me.
She has a crazy smile of satisfaction on her lips as she settles over the tip of my cock. I watch her eyes widen and then close tightly as she impales herself on me.
“Oh my God, Liam.” She growls, “You feel so fucking perfect.”
I know exactly what she’s talking about because the sensation of being inside her is mind-blowing. She lifts her hips gently and then begins to ride me.
The feeling of her wet heat sheathing me again and again makes me feel like I’m about to run mad any minute now. I grab her breasts through her sundress, squeezing as hard as I can. That seems to even ignite her further. She moves quicker, bouncing as she engorges herself on my cock.
Without thinking about it, I pull down an arm of her dress and quickly pull down a bra cup, burying my face in her breasts and taking the nipple into my mouth. I suck hard and nibble. She screams.
“I’m gonna come, Liam. I’m coming.”
I place my free hand on the other breast, sucking deeper, biting harder. She explodes into orgasm right over me, her inside clenching me hard, squeezing my own orgasm out of me. I close my eyes as the waves ride over me, gritting my teeth.
At the end, we collapse in each other’s arms, gasping for breath in the heated steam of the car interior.