Chapter 15
Liam
For the last week I haven’t left work before 6:30, so when I block out my calendar starting at 5:00 P.M. to make sure I’m home for Britain, the questions come rolling in.
“You got a hot date tonight, brother?” Niko slips his head into my office this afternoon.
“Maybe.” I’m not sure I’m ready to tell the whole office I’ve got a girlfriend for the first time in a decade. I did tell my mom, and I don’t know which is worse, her or the whole office?
“Whoa, whoa, whoa, really?” I don’t even acknowledge him, just keep typing my email.
“Your silence is answer enough. Who is she?” I look up at Niko, but don’t say anything, I really don’t want to give him a bone to chew on.
“Aww, come on man. I see how it is, worried she’ll leave you for one of us? Hey Max!” Fuck, no. “Max, come in here, Liam’s dating someone and it’s serious.”
“Yeah, I know, I just signed for these,” he’s holding the huge bouquet of flowers I ordered.
“Don’t you dare open that card,” I tell Max, but it’s too late. He’s already lifted one side of the card and read at least part of it.
“Your girl’s name is Bambi? Like for real?” Max asks.
“Get the fuck out!” Niko says, then moves to look over Max’s shoulder. I stand up without a word, taking the bouquet from Max.
“No, you get the fuck out,” and I wait for them both to exit my space, slamming the door on both of them. Even with the door shut, I can hear them outside in the hall, not leaving.
“He hasn’t had a serious girlfriend, in like, ever.”
“I know, man. Who is this Bambi?”
I hear another voice, a female’s. “Why’d Liam block out his whole night? He have a hot date?” Fucking hell.
I’m not surprised when I get a call on the drive home.
“Hey, man,” I answer.
“Hey, so uh, Bambi, huh?” he asks. Jesus christ.
“What about it?”
Matt just laughs in response to my avoidance. “Alright, so you’re not ready to talk about it. That’s how I know this isn’t a joke. If it was any other chick, you’d be all, ‘ya, I got a fucking date tonight. Name’s Lisa, she breeds French Bulldogs, celiac disease, so gotta go somewhere with a gluten-free menu.’” He mimics my voice terribly. I burst into laughter.
“Is that what I fucking sound like?”
“Yeah,” he deadpans.
“Alright, well, yeah, I don’t want to talk about it because it might be serious.”
“Yup, and that’s the real reason you’re wanting to bump your move-in date, right?” No shit.
“Yeah, I mean, that’s part of the reason. No bull shit, how bad do you need me there?” I ask.
“Well...” He’s hemming and hawing. “No bull shit, is she worth it?” Abso-fucking-lutely.
“Yes.” That’s all I’ll say to him about that.
“Then I guess I'll be good a bit longer. All alone. Just me and myself.”
I laugh. “I think there’s a good chance I’ll be able to move out there in June.” I think, but I sort of hope not, which begs a lot of other questions to deal with.
“Alright, man, but this is how it always starts. Next you’re asking me to buy out your side of the business.” He pauses, “This isn’t a midlife crisis, right? I mean, Bambi?” I burst out laughing.
“Yeah, sounds kind of suspect when you put it like that, but uh, no. Not a midlife crisis.” Changing the subject, “Did you get the updated blueprints Dom sent over?”
“Yeah, yeah, we got em’. If you’re not gonna give me anything else, I’ll talk to you later,” he says.
“I’m not.”
“Alright, bye asshole.”
“Ha! Right back at you,” and I end the call. Matt’s more like a brother than a business partner to me. Our dads were business partners, and when William Sr. passed, I took over for him. And when Constantine retired two years ago, Matt took his place.
Matt’s comment about a midlife crisis comes back to me. This isn’t a midlife crisis though, right? I did just realize that I missed the boat on having a family, but what I feel for Britain is real. It’s way different than anything I’ve felt before, and I was with Nancy for five years. This is why I’m not ready to tell my work family yet. I don’t want any outside influence over what happens between the two of us.
I feel like a tween getting ready for a first date. I’ve been agonizing over what to wear for a half hour now. This is the stupidest thing. Britain is casual. She’s not expecting me to be in dress pants and a tie for dinner at my house. Keep it simple, I remind myself, oxford shirt with rolled up sleeves and jeans. Gina gave me unsolicited dating advice once that women’s weaknesses are bare forearms and the hair that curls up at the neck of a dress shirt. I’ll have to settle for bearing my forearms since my hair isn’t going to grow three inches in the next 20 minutes.
Downstairs is mostly ready. I have three different kinds of wine chilling, the flowers are set out. I’ll get the playlist going in a minute. I have a fire going indoors, and I’m prepped with blankets and wood if we want to do a fire outside. Food is in the warming drawer and I need to chill the fuck out.
She’s already my girlfriend, right? It somehow doesn’t feel real, though. Like it could all go away in the blink of an eye, which it could. I want her at my house. Not staying in my garage apartment. I mean, it’s nice in there, I designed it, but it’s not my house. It’s not with me.
I hear her gentle knock and head for the door. I open it, and damn. She looks stunning. I don’t even bother with a ‘hi,’ I’m just on her the second I see her. Grabbing her face between my hands, I’m kissing her like I’ve been wanting to do all fucking day. I let her go, remembering it’s probably cold out and she’s still standing outside. I grab her hand and pull her in, closing the door after us.
Britain
“Wow. I’m pretty sure your house is on one of my Pinterest boards,” I say as he laughs, but I’m not joking. I’ve seen the inside of this house before. I think it was in Architectural Digest a while back.
“Liam, your house is…beautiful.” I can’t stop looking around at every detail. It’s organic, but modern, and clearly says mountain home, but not in the same way Sandy’s house did. Liam’s is subtle.
“Who designed it?” I legit want their info in case I ever decide to do a mountain or lake house.
“Uhh, I did,” he says. I’m shocked.
“Really? I mean, wow. It’s incredible, you did an amazing job. All the natural elements in here. And is your fireplace carved from a boulder? This is nothing like the house I remember.”
“You’ve been here before?” he asks.
“Yeah, when I was ten, back when the Scalas owned it. Constantine let my mom and me stay here for a week.”
“Ahh, got it. Okay,” he says.
“Did they buy a different place on the lake? Or…” I’m so confused, it was a great family lake house, right on the water. It didn’t look like this back then, but it was still nice and I really doubt the Scalas were hard pressed for money.
“No, Constantine just wanted to get rid of it a couple years ago, and I snagged it for the lot and size. I was already living in Spearhead at the time, in a smaller cabin closer to town. I knew this was probably a once in a lifetime opportunity and I’d always dreamed of having a lakefront place.”
“Same.”
“Really?” he asks, genuinely interested.
“Yeah, my dream home on Pinterest is all just lake houses and docks with vintage speedboats.” I laugh, thinking that Liam’s home is on my ‘dream home’ Pinterest board. I don’t know what that means, but all I can think about is Sandy telling me there’s no such thing as chance. Does this mean vision boards actually work?
“Huh,” he pauses for a minute, then asks for my drink order. “I have white, red, or rosé. Or if you want something stiffer…”
I cut him off, “I’ll just have whatever you have,” giving him a smile. I know he’s trying, but I don’t want him to. I like it when we’re just us, in sweats, or naked, in bed. He nods in response, and heads for the kitchen.
He turns around briefly, letting me know, “There’s something for you on the dining room table,” and then he’s out of sight. I wander a bit, scoping out the main level. There’s his office, a water closet, mud room, and finally the dining room. A huge bouquet of flowers is sitting on the end of the table. A little white card sticking out from the top.
There’s that warm feeling again, the tingles that make me smile. I open the card.
Thanks for choosing me, Bambi. You won’t regret it, I promise.
Yours, Liam
I think I just melted.
I find him in the kitchen plating food, and it’s the sexiest fucking sight I’ve ever seen. He just looks up and smiles as I make my way over. As soon as I’m in front of him, he sets down the plates on the counter and turns to me. I’m on my toes reaching for a kiss, and he meets me, and it’s just like last night all over again. His tongue slides in my mouth and I suck him in, just like I did with his cock last night. His hands find my hips and he holds me against him. I feel him growing hard against the thin fabric of my dress, and my thighs get sticky from the forming wetness.
I release his mouth and say, “Thank you for the flowers. And the note.”
“Of course.” He places a soft kiss just at the base of my jaw. Then he trails it with another kiss on my neck, then one on my collar bone, then he’s placing a kiss on the top of my breasts. He’s not looking at me, head still turned down towards my breasts, but he says, “We should probably eat.”
“We probably should,” I reply, but I’m gripping his arms so tight, I’ve probably left half moon indents in his skin from my nails. Neither one of us moves away, though.
“Bambi, I’m not going to be able to stop if we start again. I really am trying to give you one nice date night. Just say the word and we’ll go eat.” His voice is hoarse and low.
“I can’t,” I say. He looks up at me, and for a second he looks hurt. “I can’t say the word, I want you too much.” I finish my original thought.
“Fuck, baby,” he says as he drops his head on to my breasts. “Can I take you upstairs?” He asks, but I shake my head no. “What do you want, baby? Whatever it is, it’s yours.”
I pull his face up off my breasts, then I lean in and whisper in his ear, “I want you to punish me for turning you down last week. Here, in the kitchen, where you planned to share your meals with me. Make me pay for it, please?” As soon as the words leave my mouth, his hand is behind my head in a searing grip, his kiss is intense, turning my insides molten.
He pulls his mouth away and whispers in my ear, “I should make you pay for all the times I fucked my fist last week when it should have been you.” His grip on my hair stings and the little bit of pain makes my sex clench. I stifle a moan that threatens to come out.
“What do you think you deserve, little Bambi? Do you think you’ve earned my cock?” His other hand drops down, gripping my ass tight. So fucking tight, I’ll have bruises tomorrow and I can’t fucking wait.
I plead with him. I need him to do something, anything to me. “Liam, please. I’ll do anything to make it up to you.” He releases me, roughly turning me around so my back is against his chest and my front is pushed against the kitchen island. He’s holding me tight to his body with one arm while the other is reaching down, hiking my dress up. Simultaneously, he’s biting my neck in small nips.
His hand is getting closer to my bare sex when he asks, “Are you on birth control?” I shake my head, and say, “No.”
“I don’t have any condoms in my kitchen, Bambi. What should I do about that?” His hand is gripping my thigh in a tight pinch. “You won’t let me take you upstairs, though. Maybe the punishment is fucking you without a condom. A little Russian roulette?” Holy fucking shit. I’m not planning for more kids, but the thought of him taking me here, bare, has me pushing my ass back against his crotch. He’s bending me over the counter top, pushing up my dress until he sees that I’m bare.
“Are you fucking kidding me, Bambi? You can walk around our house all you want without underwear, but don’t you dare do this when you’re not here, when you’re not with me.” Was that a Freudian slip? Our?
I can’t help the moan his words elicit from me. His hand comes down on my ass with a hard smack and I cry out, another moan escaping my lips. “That’s right, Bambi, you’re fucking mine. This is my pussy.” He grips my sex tightly and laughs. “Of course you’re fucking soaked for me, baby. You love this, don’t you?” I nod my head affirmatively and he slides two fingers into me, hard. “I know your punishment, Bambi. You don’t get to come until you’re in our bed, begging me for it. Only then will I consider letting you come.”
He spanks me harder, one more time, and I cry out his name. He slides his fingers out of me, releasing me from his grip. He lets my dress fall back down, and turns me around to face him. He commands me, “Open your mouth, Bambi.” I obey, and he slides the two fingers that were just inside me into my mouth. I grab his wrist and hold him in place, sucking his fingers clean. His eyes are wide while I work him over. I only let his fingers and wrist go once I’m satisfied.
“For the record, I was rooting for Russian roulette,” I tell him, as I grab one of the plates and head to his breakfast nook. I hear him whisper under his breath, “Fuck, Bambi,” and I just laugh.