Chapter 32
Chapter thirty-two
Isla
Seriously, where the fuck is he? It’s not like Liam is a small guy that is easily hidden. He’s a fucking giant that you can spot from the other side of the stadium. So why am I finding it so hard to even catch a glimpse of the dafty?
‘Liam,’ I call out again.
I’m getting angsty now hence why I’ve resorted to calling on him like a banshee.
My back is holding up okay and I can only assume it's down to me continuing to train — that’s something one of the books said might help anyway.
But that doesn’t mean I love lugging my pregnant ass around a football stadium looking for the dick head that is responsible for getting me into this position in the first place.
‘Li–’
‘Yes, princess.’
I swivel my head so hard I'm surprised my neck doesn’t crack. My lips purse and I raise my eyebrows as peak displeasure radiates off of me in waves. I hope my irritation hits him like something radioactive or some shit — they went on about that stuff being dangerous in school, I’m sure.
Of course, the dick head isn’t phased in the slightest. Instead his eyes heat as he looks me over.
It’s like every time I get pissed off he gets turned on. He’s got something wrong with him, I'm sure, because that can’t be normal.
‘Where have you been?’ I cross my arms, not giving in to his lustful gaze, because what could be more important than doating on me?
Okay, now I sound like the crazy one.
‘Thinking about you, as always.’
Urgh, why does my chest have to flutter when he says shit like that? I’m supposed to be angry. Internally, I scold my melting heart.
‘What were you really doing?’ I press, suspicious.
He prowls closer and that’s when I spot the metallic glint of his knuckle dusters. I meet his gaze but all I see in return is desire.
‘Well?’ I ask.
Liam stops in front of me, his thumb catching on my bottom lip as he traces my plump flesh.
‘I was talking to some of the guys about a supply run.’
My interest is piqued at that.
‘What are you planning? Can I—’
He presses his thumb against my lips, cutting me off. And I stare at his bashfulness.
Then I get pissed because no way this dick head just silenced me.
Liam grins, showing a straight row of white teeth. He looks like a predator as he grins down at me.
I’m not his prey though. I'm a royally pissed off pregnant woman who does not like to be shushed.
My palm slaps his hand away as I poke my finger into his chest.
‘Don’t,’ jab. ‘You,’ jab. ‘Ever,’ I make sure to jab my finger with more emphasis this time. ‘Shush me.’
Hands raised in the air, Liam feigns innocence, but with the smirk he is not so successfully holding back, I know he feels no remorse.
‘I mean it, Liam. I’m not laughing.’
‘Have I ever told you you’re incredibly hot when you’re angry?’ He practically groans as he says the words.
And a tingle of arousal flutters straight between my legs. Curse my traitorous vagina. She's the fucking reason I’m standing here mixed up with this mountain of idiocy right now.
If I had just kept my knickers on and not drooled over a muscled man wearing a mask, then my life would be a lot simpler right now.
Well, I did a little more than just drool over him but that’s besides the point.
And I guess, if I am being realistic, my life would probably still be a shit show with the apocalypse and all, but I'm getting off track.
‘No. You don’t get to play Mr Smooth with me, big guy.’
I stand my ground with my hands firmly placed on my hips, chin up, shoulders back and down because I mean mother fucking business.
Liam takes one look at me and then his arms are around me, lifting me in the air. One cradles my back whilst the other loops underneath my legs as he bridal style carries me through the stadium.
I splutter but nothing coherent comes out, too stunned to think of anything half-useful to say.
He walks us through the grounds and I feel his cockiness grow the more people we pass. It's like he is parading me around for everyone to see.
Fuck knows how he's managing to carry me so effortlessly. I'm a tall gal and obviously I'm a pregnant one at that. Somewhere around eight months pregnant so I know I’m not a feather to lift. But Liam doesn’t so much as break a sweat as he begins to ascend a familiar set of stairs.
‘What are you doing?’
‘It’s a surprise.’
‘I don’t like surprises.’
‘Well, you’re going to like this one.’