Chapter 12 #2
I emerge from the bathroom, smoothing my palms down the sides of the short black dress.
The Chief really does have good taste. The dress is sleek, simple, and exactly what I would’ve chosen for myself.
It hugs my curves without being too tight, the hem brushing mid-thigh, just enough to be dangerous.
I fasten the delicate chain around my neck, my fingers brushing the locket that holds Opal’s photo. A small comfort and a reminder that she's still with me.
I gather my hair up into a high ponytail, letting the loose strands frame my face.
When I step back into the bedroom, Liam emerges from the closet at the same time.
And God, he’s lethal.
Black jeans, a black button-up stretched across his broad chest, and dark red boots that I realize with a kick to my heart match mine exactly.
For a moment, we just stare at each other.
Time slows.
The air thickens.
His gaze roves over me, hot and possessive, lingering on my legs, my hips, the locket glinting at my throat.
And then he stills completely.
“I’m gonna cancel dinner.”
I bite back a laugh, brushing past him on the way to the kitchen, knowing full well he’s burning holes into the back of my dress with his eyes.
“Too late,” I toss over my shoulder. “Teddy texted. He’s almost here. And he’s alone because his wife had to fly back to Texas for a birthday.”
Liam’s frustrated groan follows me down the hall.
Smirking, I grab our discarded clothing from the living room and kitchen, shoving everything into the laundry room and kick the door closed with my heel.
Behind me, I hear Liam move with heavy boots on hardwood and when I glance back, he’s leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed, watching me like he’s counting down the seconds until we’re alone again.
And judging by the look on his face he’s not planning to let me walk after.
Before either of us can speak, the doorbell chimes, breaking the charged silence. I exhale, flipping the knob on the stove to start the vegetables steaming. When I turn, Liam’s already reaching for me, hand outstretched. Without hesitation, I slip my fingers into his.
Together, we move toward the front door, presenting a united front in more ways than one. Liam opens the door with a smile that’s a little too sharp around the edges.
“Teddy,” he greets, voice warm but firm. “Good to see you.”
The men shake hands, firm grips, silently sizing up. Then Teddy turns to me, his grin stretching wider.
“Good to see you, Olive.”
“You, too.” I smile politely, even though my heart is thundering way too fast. “Please, come inside.”
Teddy steps over the threshold, removing his cowboy hat and tucking it under his arm.
He’s exactly what I pictured when I first heard Texas billionaire rancher.
Sixties, white hair thinning in the back, tan suit so pressed it could cut glass, and boots that probably cost more than my first car.
The kind of man who built his fortune from the dust up and never lets you forget it.
He sniffs the air, his face lighting up.
“Smells good in here. What’s for dinner?”
Before I can answer, Liam slides his arm around my waist, pulling me close enough that my body fits snug against his side.
He doesn't even hesitate.
“Olive’s making her famous meatloaf,” he says, voice so casual it sounds almost real.
Teddy’s eyes crinkle with amusement. He gestures between us, waving his hat like he’s pointing out something obvious.
“Happy to see you’re done hiding your relationship. It was plain as day to me when we met.”
I feel Liam’s chest shake with silent laughter beside me.
He dips his head in acknowledgment.
“You know how it goes,” he says, easy. “We just didn’t want it to affect business.”
Teddy chuckles, shaking his head like he’s remembering the good old days.
“Oh, it’ll affect business alright,” he says, grinning. “Just wait until she’s pregnant with your baby, bent over your desk, screaming out your name. Miss those days,” he sighs, sounding downright wistful.
I choke on air and Liam goes rigid next to me.
When I glance up at him, the laughter dancing in his blue eyes almost distracts me.
Almost. Because underneath it? There’s heat.
Heat that says he’s definitely picturing it.
Heat that says it’s not even remotely a joke in his head right now.
My cheeks burn so hot I’m surprised the smoke alarm doesn’t go off.
Liam catches my gaze, the corner of his mouth lifting in a wicked smirk that promises revenge.
We move to the dining room, Liam and Teddy taking their seats while I finish plating the salad.
The conversation stays surface-level as I settle in across from Teddy and next to Liam. Small talk buzzes around the table, but my mind can barely track a word. Because the second I sit down, Liam’s hand finds my thigh.
At first, it’s innocent. Just the weight of his palm resting lightly, a casual, almost protective touch.
But then he slides it higher, under my dress.
My pulse kicks into a wild rhythm, blood rushing in my ears as he rubs slow, teasing circles against the inside of my thigh.
I shift in my seat, trying to focus as Teddy launches into a story about some contractor in Dallas who lost a whole herd of cattle over a weekend.
But Liam? Liam’s hand is a traitor. It moves higher still, fingertips grazing the sensitive skin at the very edge of my panties. My breath stutters and I have to set my fork down before I drop it entirely. I dart a glance at him, ready to kill him with a look, but he’s the picture of innocence.
Leaning back casually in his chair, smiling easily as he tells Teddy all about our last trip to the NFR in Vegas.
“You should've seen Olive,” he says, voice smooth as sin. “Wrangled two drunk bronc riders out of a bar fight without even breaking a sweat.”
Teddy laughs heartily, clapping the table.
Meanwhile, Liam’s fingers slip under the damp edge of my panties, finding the slick heat waiting for him. I barely swallow a gasp, my thighs trembling. He presses in slow, maddening circles, every stroke lighting up my nerve endings like a live wire.
And then he rubs. Gentle. Cruel. Perfect. I can feel myself unraveling under the table, every nerve strung painfully tight.
I have two choices. I can shove his hand away and pretend I still have any pride left. Or I can give in.
I choose option two.
Slowly, carefully, I part my thighs, giving him better access.
I force myself to pick up my fork again, pretending to take a bite of salad as if I’m not two seconds from moaning out loud.
Liam’s gaze flicks to mine. And when he sees the choice I’ve made? His eyes darken as a slow, wicked smile curves his mouth.
Teddy keeps talking, oblivious to the war raging under the table.
Meanwhile, Liam’s fingers stroke slow, merciless patterns over me, each pass grazing my clit just enough to make my thighs quiver, but not enough to push me over.
It’s torture. Beautiful, wicked torture.
I bite down hard on the inside of my cheek, forcing myself to nod and hum at all the right moments, even as Liam’s fingers slip a little lower, gathering the slick proof of how easily he’s wrecking me.
He rubs it back up in slow, devastating circles, pressing harder now, dragging tight spirals that make my breath catch so hard Teddy actually glances at me.
“You alright, Olive?” he asks, frowning slightly.
I clear my throat, plastering on what I hope is a normal smile.
“Just—just a tickle in my throat,” I rasp, my voice a full octave higher than usual.
Teddy nods and turns back to his story, mercifully letting it go.
But Liam? Liam leans in under the guise of topping off my wine glass.
And as he does, he murmurs in my ear, “Good girl.”
My entire body jolts, a shudder ripping down my spine so hard I almost knock over my glass.
His fingers move faster now, rubbing tighter, harder circles against my clit that are relentless and devastating.
The edge rushes up fast, brutal and impossible to deny.
I bite my cheek so hard I taste blood, every muscle in my body clenching as I fight to keep from giving myself away.
Liam strokes me faster, coaxing, demanding.
My heart hammers against my ribs.
My vision blurs.
And then I break.
I clamp my thighs around his hand, body locking up as the orgasm crashes over me in endless, shaking waves.
I can't move.
Can't breathe.
Can't think.
All I can do is sit there, trembling under Liam’s hand, fighting to hold myself together while Teddy obliviously reaches for the breadbasket.
Liam’s thumb draws one last slow, knowing circle against my oversensitive clit—a final cruel, tender stroke—and then he pulls his hand away, leaving me trembling.
He casually licks his fingers and then smirks around the rim of his wineglass. And when he leans in again, so close his breath teases the shell of my ear, he whispers it so quietly it’s a miracle I even hear it.
“Later, honey,” he promises, voice molten. “I’m gonna do it right.”
My body shudders again, anticipation curling low and hot in my belly.
And the worst part?
I already know I’m going to let him.