Chapter 35 Liam
Liam
Finn doesn’t know I’ve been spending time with Anna privately. He’s perceptive, I’ll give him that. Too damn perceptive.
But hearing him say that Anna would make a good ma and seeing the way his face beams when he talks about her sets off something odd in my gut. Not unsettling, just… odd.
To be honest, I’m bleedin’ kidding myself if I think whatever’s going on is purely friendly. It isn’t. It hasn’t been for weeks. And, like the glutton I am, I’ve given up trying to convince myself otherwise.
So, I have a crush. Like a bloody teenager.
It’s Saturday morning and I haven’t heard from Anna in a week now. I’ve been holding off on texting her because I haven’t wanted to push her. But the urge to see her again isn’t a want. It’s a need.
Whipping out my phone, I shoot off a quick text.
Me: Finn’s at Roman’s tonight. Can I cash in on that date?
Three dots appear before her response comes through.
Anna: Is that date going to be private?
My response is instant.
Me: Very.
The dots appear, then disappear, then reappear before my phone pings with another message.
Anna: Okay, I guess I’ll allow it.
Brat.
Me: Are you free tonight?
Anna: I had very big plans, but I guess I can cancel them.
I smile to myself and shoot off the details.
Rolling my shoulders, I survey the state of my flat.
Then I call Zoey for help.
Time to get to work.
Zoey left an hour ago and I haven’t stopped moving since. I can’t remember the last time my nerves were this shot. My body won’t let me settle.
I drag my hand through my hair for what feels like the hundredth time, pacing back and forth across the parquetry. My thoughts seesaw between hunger and panic like a bloody balance scale.
What if she hates it?
What if I’ve gone too far?
Is she going to freak out and bolt when she sees what I’ve done?
The shrill chime of my doorbell comes at 8 pm. Right on the dot.
I suck in a breath, working my shoulders in a slow roll, and smooth a hand down the front of my shirt, like that’ll do a damn thing to calm me.
It doesn’t.
My pulse is in my ears as I make my way to the intercom, buzzing her in. I stand in the doorway of my flat, leaning against the frame. The elevator dings. The doors slide open.
And. Fuck. Me.
She’s a total knockout. A temptation made of flesh.
She struts toward me in a black long-sleeved minidress that clings like sin. The fabric dips in at the waist, and all I can think about is fisting my hands there and holding her tight while I bounce her on my cock until she’s wrecked.
Her legs are wrapped in sheer stockings that disappear into heeled boots which make her hips sway even more sexily. Her hair’s loose tonight, shiny dark waves spilling over her shoulders, catching the dim light and glowing gold at the tips. Perfect.
And the expression on her face is telling me she knows exactly what she’s doing to me, prowling toward me, dressed like every fantasy I’ve ever had. My throat tightens at the sight of her.
“You clean up well, Murphy,” she says, her eyes trailing me up and down.
“You’re not too shabby yourself,” I say, pushing off the doorframe and stepping closer.
When she finally reaches me, I pull her close until we’re flush, chest to chest. Threading my fingers through her hair, I tug just enough to tip her head back so I can crash my mouth down on hers.
She tastes like vanilla and maple syrup—sweet and sugary. I want that scent smeared over my skin, clinging to me after she’s been on her knees with those plump lips wrapped around my dick.
Christ, I really wanted to see her.
We pull apart, breathless, and I’m unable to suppress my smile as I take her hand in mine. “Are you ready?”
A brow kicks up playfully. “What do you have planned?”
“I’ll show you.”