Chapter Fifteen #2
‘It’s been a long day, but don’t worry – I can feel a second wind coming on.’ He looks down at me, his eyes boring into mine. ‘You look really good tonight.’
‘In this?’ I grimace, plucking at my sweatshirt and hoping my BO wafts over and chokes him.
‘I’m a sucker for the natural look.’
Dammit. Should have caked my face in makeup.
‘I had a good time with you yesterday,’ he continues, then stretches right in front of me, suppressing a yawn, clasping his arms behind his head and moving from side to side, as if he knows I won’t be able to resist his arms. But this is a new Margot.
One who knows herself and is honest about her strengths and weaknesses – but trusts herself. Or at least she’s fucking trying.
‘Yeah, kayaking was fun,’ I say.
The corner of his mouth turns up. ‘Oh, I didn’t mean the kayaking.’
I look up at him as the involuntary memory of our make-out sesh in his car washes through me. His face is a little scruffy tonight. I want to touch it so bad. Wrap my legs around that tight, defined torso—
‘We should watch a movie!’
His brow crinkles. ‘Right now?’
‘Yes. No need to summon up a second wind. Let’s just zone out for while. Have you seen Gods and Generals?’
‘Never heard of it.’
‘You’ll love it. It’s five hours long.’
He chuckles. ‘How about another night?’
I pout. ‘C’mon! Wouldn’t it feel good to stretch out on the couch after a long day?’
‘It would feel even better to talk. I want to get to know you more. Let me finish making the chocolate cakes and we’ll go from there.’
My brain goes into a flurry of recalculations. I need a plan B! If he won’t watch a movie, under what circumstances can I get him to fall asleep?
The answer is obvious. Dangerous. But tonight, I’m trusting myself.
I lean close and whisper, ‘Can I have a kiss first?’
I don’t have to ask twice. His mouth is on mine in less than a second. A waterfall of sensation washes over me, fast and easy, like my body is picking right back up where we left off, which is OK because it’s all part of the plan I’ve just hatched, and it’s an added bonus that it feels so good.
‘Wait!’ I shout, stepping back, heart pounding. I pull out my phone and share my location with George, which I should have thought to do the second I walked through his door. With shaking fingers, I shoot off a text to her. Safety check, I’ll text u in 2 hours.
‘Everything OK?’ he says, voice husky.
‘Just sharing my location with a friend.’ Phone still in hand, I scan his face in the dim light for his reaction.
‘Great,’ he says before coming back in for a kiss that takes my breath away.
He’s totally unconcerned.
I pull away roughly again, breathing heavily.
‘If she doesn’t hear from me in the next two hours, she’s calling 911.
’ Without breaking eye contact, I drop my phone back into my purse, and with my hand still buried in its depths, I grip the stun gun, just in case this is when he springs out his evil side.
Liam’s face is so close to mine I can feel his breath. My pulse lurches as I watch for any sign on his face – a twitch, a flash of fear – anything. But he just grins, his expression suddenly wolfish.
‘That’s incredibly sexy.’ His voice is low, almost lazy.
‘That I don’t trust you?’
‘That you’re smart.’ He runs the back of his palm down my face. His touch is light, and I shiver.
‘It doesn’t bother you?’ Because if you are a serial killer, it should.
‘Smart girls are hot.’
Heat rushes through me as our mouths collide again, and then my hands are working their way under his T-shirt like they have a mind of their own, feeling up the smooth, rock-hard expanse of his torso.
I have the strangest impulse to slap his ass just to feel how hard it is, and I’ve never been an ass-slapper, though maybe that says more about the previous asses I’ve had access to …
I pull away. Time for phase two of plan B. ‘Beverages. Do you have anything stronger than wine?’
His mouth is slightly reddened, his hair tousled, his eyes unfocused. ‘Yeah. Strong. I can do that.’
Back on the other side of the island, he pulls two bottles from an upper shelf and clunks them on to the counter. ‘I’ve got bourbon – Maker’s Mark or Woodford Reserve?’
I laugh. ‘I have no idea what the difference is.’
‘Let’s do Woodford. I think you’ll like it – Maker’s is smoother, but Woodford’s a little richer.’ He pours two tumblers, and I gesture for him to top mine off a little more.
I perch on a bar stool by the small kitchen island and take the teensiest sip of all time.
‘Mmmm, notes of … vanilla?’
He nods approvingly and adds, ‘Caramel.’
I squint my eyes. ‘… and a little eau de … old dishrag?’
He laughs, which warms me faster than whiskey would – not that I’m drinking anything beyond that first minuscule sip.
‘Be right back,’ he says. ‘Restroom.’
Perfect! As soon as I hear the door close, I slip quietly off my chair and pour my glass of bourbon down the sink, keeping only the smallest bit of liquid kissing the bottom.
I hear the toilet flush, return to my seat and angle my near-empty glass of liquid up to the light, frowning as if disappointed it’s gone.
‘You drank it all?’ he says with genuine surprise.
I widen my eyes. ‘Wasn’t I supposed to?’
His eyes crinkle with amusement. ‘I mean, far be it from me to tell a lady how to consume a beverage … but yes, normally people sip it more slowly. It’s strong stuff.’
‘You’re strong stuff,’ I say in what I hope is a very sexy voice. I slide off the bar stool, go on tiptoes and drag my tongue up his neck. Slowly. His skin is warm under my mouth. He doesn’t move, but I can feel his pulse beat under my tongue, and he releases a barely audible exhale at the end.
‘What are you doing to me, Margot?’ he says in a low voice, bracketing my hips with his strong hands.
I’m not a short girl, but Liam’s height makes me feel tiny in the best of ways.
I don’t know why feeling tiny would be good, logically speaking, especially given our specific circumstances, but what can I say. Something primal appears to be at work.
Since his question doesn’t really need an answer, I just stand there, his hands on me, feeling the heat radiating off his body, feeling the flush in my own face, which is definitely only from adrenaline and not at all from my alarmingly rabid levels of desire.
I reach up a finger and trace it down his neck, the same line of skin I just licked. I watch with satisfaction as he visibly shivers. Time for phase three. ‘Bedroom?’
‘You don’t have to ask twice,’ he says with a throaty laugh, looping his finger with mine and leading the way.
He reaches for the light switch but I stop him.
‘I like the dark.’ Then I push him on to the bed.
He falls back with an oof and a laugh. I climb on top of him, which feels like the safest possible position, tugging my purse off my shoulder and plopping it down to my left, within arm’s reach, then rake my hands through his hair, releasing the scent of his shampoo.
‘You’re so … hot,’ I say, intentionally sounding a little looser, a little sillier than normal.
He pushes his head up so our lips touch, and I press down into him. I cup his face in my hands, feeling the rough scratch of stubble against my palms, as he reaches up and grabs my ass.
It’s all feeling so delicious, it’s almost a pity that I have to pull back.
‘Oooh,’ I groan.
He immediately props himself up on his forearms. ‘What’s wrong? Are you OK?’
I force a giggle. ‘Liiiiam, I think I really did screw up with that bourbon. I’m drunk! I can’t engage in … consensh … consensual …’
He climbs out from under me. ‘Hey. Let me get you a glass of water. And then if you want, I can totally take you home—’
‘No!’ I shriek, reaching for his hand and pulling him back toward the bed with all my strength. ‘I mean, not yet! I want to snuggle.’ He’s hesitating, so I turn on the charm. ‘Pleeeease. I love snuggles!’
‘OK,’ he relents, sounding amused but also concerned. ‘We can snuggle.’
‘Oh good!’ I say, plopping down on my side facing my purse. ‘You’re the big spoon.’
His body folds around me awkwardly. I reach an arm back, grab his hip and tug him closer. He chuckles.
‘OK,’ he says as he starts to relax. ‘Snuggles, huh?’
‘You don’t normally do this?’
‘I can honestly say I’ve never snuggled anyone. Not since I was a little kid.’
‘What? That’s tragic!’
‘What’s so great about it?’
I can’t resist shimmying my ass a little so it fits more tightly into the curve his body makes. Ah, and he likes that, I register as he pushes back. The little moan I release is completely unintentional.
‘Never mind,’ he quickly amends. He puts a hand on my hip, locking me even closer. ‘I’m starting to get the appeal.’
‘Good. That’s what I’m here for,’ I say, letting my voice trend toward sleepy.
‘To enlighten you, you know? Teach you a thing or two. Give you new experiences …’ At this point, I actually yawn.
Damn, turns out I’m really tired too. My doughnut drop-off and attempted lock-picking adventure from this morning seems like multiple lifetimes ago.
We spoon in silence for a while. I’m legitimately drifting off when he speaks again.
‘I liked kissing you,’ he whispers.
‘Mmm-hmmm,’ I respond.
‘The ganache should be cooled down …’
‘Forget the ganache.’
He drapes an arm over me and molds his body to mine. We fit together perfectly. I keep a hand on my purse, empowered by the knowledge that I can incapacitate him with an electric charge within seconds. Then, I wait.
His breathing gets slower. I force myself to stay still. My eyelids get heavy again – No! Stay awake!
To keep myself alert, I try to practice the steps in my head of getting out of a chokehold. Unfortunately, the mental practice session deteriorates into visions of Liam hoisting me against the wall and doing very naughty things to my body.
I listen to his breathing. It’s deep, regular, almost inaudible. Perfect.
‘Liam?’ I whisper. No response. I can hardly believe it. He’s actually asleep. Plan B is working.
All of a sudden, I’m wide awake.
Time to snoop.