Chapter 16
CHAPTER
SIXTEEN
SOPHIE
I feel like I’m in some kind of drugged stupor, except it’s a person I’m intoxicated by, not an illegal substance. It’s only when Liam lifts his head and my hands are still tangled in his hair that I realize I didn’t do a single thing to help this along.
He made me orgasm without any assistance at all.
And yes, maybe it’s shameful to reach my late thirties without having a purely male-induced orgasm, but I don’t really care because now that I’ve had it I want more.
Just not yet, though. Right now I want sleep.
Liam smiles softly, his eyes flickering over my face like he’s trying to figure out if I’m okay. I smile back at him, finally releasing my death hold on his head, and he climbs up over me, cupping my face with the hand that hadn’t been squeezed to death by my pleasure.
“You okay?”
“Yeah,” I breathe. “Just trying to work out how to use my muscles.”
He laughs and it does something to me. “Can I kiss you again?” he asks.
“What’s with all the questions?” I mutter. “You just made me see stars, I think you can kiss me.”
“I wasn’t sure if you’d be okay with tasting yourself.”
Oh. Of course. His lips are glistening. “I guess it depends how I taste,” I say softly.
“Like fucking heaven.”
It’s weird how much I like that. How much I liked him telling me I was a good girl and that I was perfect. I know they’re all lines he uses to make a woman feel good. But they worked on me.
Is that sad?
The honest truth is I’m too wrung out to care, in the best of ways. “Kiss me,” I whisper, and his smile is so winning it hurts. Then he presses his mouth softly against mine as he strokes my hair. “So damn beautiful,” he murmurs.
And yeah, that works. I taste myself and it isn’t terrible. I like that he likes it.
I like that he likes me. Even if it’s just as a friend. And tomorrow I’ll think it through but tonight I just need to sleep.
“Let’s get you to bed,” he says, noticing my flickering eyes.
“Too tired to get in the car,” I mutter. “I’ll sleep on the sofa.”
He chuckles. “You can sleep in my bed.”
Before I can protest – and let’s face it, I wasn’t really going to protest that much – he slides his hand beneath me and lifts me into his arms. My body rushes through the air and for a moment it feels like I’m on a rollercoaster ride, but then I wrap my arms around him and I’m safe.
Safe.
That isn’t a word I’d use to describe Liam Salinger. Dangerous, yes. Edgy, for sure. But never safe.
He carries me down the hallway to his bedroom, kicking open the door and laying me on his white comforter.
And before I can say anything, he pulls the zipper on my skirt down, peeling it away from my body and folding it neatly.
I lift my hips so he can slide my panties down, too, and then I’m naked before him, spread out on his comforter.
His eyes rake over me as he adjusts himself, and I realize that only one of us got pleasure tonight. Concerned, I reach for him. “Let me help you with that…”
My fingers curl around the outline of him. He’s hard as steel and my heart races. But then he puts his hand over mine, pausing for a moment before he pulls them both away.
“You’re exhausted,” he tells me. “And I’m okay. Whatever guys have told you about blue balls, they’re lying. It doesn’t hurt, it does go away, and it won’t affect our fertility.”
I laugh because I heard all of those growing up. He walks over to his closet and pulls it open, grabbing a t-shirt that he carries over to me. “It’ll swamp you, but it’s soft and comfortable,” he tells me. “I have a spare toothbrush if you want it.”
“I should…”
“I’ll grab it and bring it out here.”
And that’s what he does. He makes me comfortable, then gets me clean, and then pulls the covers down and encourages me to nestle into his mattress. When my head hits the pillow he presses his lips against my brow and kisses me softly.
“Sleep,” he urges. “I’m just gonna take a shower then I’ll join you.”
I nod. “Don’t be long.” But before he even makes it to the bathroom my eyes have already closed.
LIAM
Bright rays of sunshine penetrate my sleep, piercing my eyelids and making me groan. I try to fight it for a moment, way too comfortable in my slumber, but the sun wins out and finally I open my eyes.
Then I remember last night and I reach for Sophie.
But she’s not there.
Turning onto my side, I frown as I inspect her side of the bed. There’s still a dent in the pillow but the covers are neatly tucked over the mattress in a way only Sophie could have made it.
“You in the bathroom?” I call out. No reply comes back. I groan and climb out of bed, running my hands over my messed up hair. I cross the floor in three strides, but the light in the bathroom is out.
Where the hell is she?
The bungalow isn’t big and it takes me less than a minute to realize that she isn’t here. The clothes I stripped off of her are all gone.
And she did the goddamned dishes, too. I think that’s what kills me. She stood in the kitchen and made sure everything was pristine before tiptoeing out without a goodbye.
Just as I’m about to grab my phone and call her, I notice movement coming from Ava and Myles’ kitchen. Did she go over there?
Not bothering to shower, I pull on yesterday’s clothes and run my hands through my messed up hair in a vain attempt to get it under control. Then I wrench open the door and stomp across the lawn and the driveway to the main house, walking through the open doors that lead into the kitchen.
Myles and Ava look up, surprised. Charlie kicks in his bouncy chair.
“Hi,” I say, looking around to see if Sophie’s here.
“Hi,” Myles says, looking confused.
“Everything okay?” Ava asks. “You look tired.”
“No he doesn’t. He looks like he just dragged his sorry ass out of bed,” Myles says, lifting a brow at me. “Which I’m assuming he just did. Not that I’m jealous.”
“Myles was up most of the night,” Ava says, smiling at me apologetically. “He’s a bit cranky.”
“I was also staring at your place a lot,” Myles says.
“Did you have a good evening?” His words are pointed.
I try to assess the situation. Sophie clearly isn’t here.
And from the way Ava is looking at me – like I’m still her favorite brother-in-law – she has no idea that Sophie was at my place last night.
Myles, on the other hand, looks like he wants to kill me. And I’m not sure if he saw something he shouldn’t or if he’s just tired like Ava said.
Either way, it feels like a strategic retreat is in order. “I need some sugar,” I lie. “That’s why I’m here. Can I borrow some?”
“What do you need sugar for?” Myles snaps.
“For my breakfast,” I tell him. He doesn’t move so I walk over to the cupboard where they keep the baking supplies and pull out the paper pack of sugar. Then I pour some into a bowl and put it back.
“There,” I say. “That wasn’t hard, was it?”
“So that’s all you wanted?” Myles asks.
“Yup.” I nod. “Gotta go. Lots to do today.”
“Like what?” Ava asks, interested.
“Actually, I need to talk to you,” Myles says, ignoring Ava’s question. “In my office.”
I start to laugh. Then Ava joins in.
“What’s so funny?” Myles asks.
“You sound like a school principal,” Ava says. “Or Liam’s boss. And I know for a fact you’re neither.”
“Let’s talk tomorrow,” I tell him. “At work. I need to go right now.”
“But…” he protests.
“Myles,” Ava says, putting her hand on his. “Liam’s right. Whatever work thing you need to discuss can wait until tomorrow.” She smiles softly at him and I watch my grumpy-ass faced older brother practically melt in front of her.
“Okay,” he agrees softly. “Tomorrow.”
“Great. Glad we got that sorted.” I start to back out. “See you guys later. Have a great Sunday.” And then I carry the sugar I have no need for back to the house that’s empty of the one person I need to talk to.
I put the bowl down and stomp into my bathroom, planning to shower, brush my teeth, and get dressed.
And then I’m going to find Sophie and figure out why she left without saying a word. Because I’m pissed as hell about that.
SOPHIE
Watching Lauren deal with the Sunday morning rush is like watching an artist at work.
With the help of only three members of staff she manages to serve around eighty people, including those coming in for their regular weekend orders.
Every seat in the Camelia Bakery is full, with a line of people waiting outside the door.
It’s not an ideal time to turn up to have a heart-to-heart with the only friend I can confide in, so I sit on one of the counter stools drinking a large mug of coffee and stuffing my face with one – okay two – of her delicious donuts, as she rushes around the room like a whirlwind.
The second time she passes me she puts a hand on my shoulder. “It’ll quiet down in ten minutes,” she tells me.
I look skeptically at the full room. “Are you sure you don’t want me to come back later?” I ask.
“Nope. Stay right there,” she says, topping up my coffee cup. “I need to know why you walked in here looking like you didn’t go home last night.”
Ten minutes later, the line is gone and there are a couple of tables free. The frantic activity has dwindled, everybody has their coffee and pastries, and there’s a happy Sunday morning buzz in the place. Lauren pours herself a cup of coffee and sits in the now-empty stool next to mine.
“Hey.” She smiles as she takes a sip.
“Hey.”
Lauren is one of my very favorite people. She, Ava, and I have known each other for most of our lives. We met on our first day of college and never looked back. They know me better than anybody else in my life.
“So who is he?”
I blink. “What makes you think it’s a he?”
She smiles. “Well let’s see. You’re wearing a skirt and a blouse that are crumpled as heck. And because I tuned into the evening news last night, I happen to know you were wearing that same skirt and blouse yesterday. By the way, great broadcast.”
“Thanks.” I give her a small smile.
“So?”