by K. K. Allen
“I am drawing something for you. Whether you use it or not is completely up to you.”
She relaxed slightly and took another sip of wine before setting it on the counter and letting out a light laugh. “No offense. It’s just—”
“Personal,” I finished for her and watched closely as she nodded. “And you don’t want to feel pressured to like whatever I create.”
She nodded again.
“Lucky for you, I don’t get easily offended.”
“So, if I tell you I don’t like your artwork you won’t get offended?” She pointed to my arms. “That would be equivalent to me not liking your tattoos.”
“You haven’t even looked at my tattoos.”
“I’ve seen them plenty, and I’m staring at them now, aren’t I?”
Chelsea was a cheeky one, with a sassy mouth, and I knew just what to do with it. “Come closer.”
Something deep in my gut told me she’d been waiting for the invite ever since the day we’d met and her eyes had tracked them like she would a suspect before the arrest. She was curious, almost bashful. It made me eager to offer her a chance to explore, to make her feel less guilty for wanting to ask. Now, she didn’t have to.
Without hesitation, she stalked forward, moved around the island, and stood before me—mere inches from putting her chest to mine. Then she explored. It started with her eyes, perfect little orbs outlining each design like a critic at an art museum. She was my critic now. With each second that passed, as she studied me and I watched her, I claimed her with every selfish bone in my body.
It took everything I had not to place my hands on that small waist and pull her closer. To not lean into her scent and inhale it like it was my only source of oxygen. I stayed put, letting her eyes wander over my bare arms while I watched the transparency on her face.
She wanted to ask questions. That was obvious by the way her eyes would stop on one particular design. Her mouth would open then shut really fast before she moved on to another.
She wanted to touch my skin. Every now and then, her hand would twitch, and instead of running her fingers up my forearm, she would pull them back and run them through her hair.
She wanted to lick me too. Okay, maybe that was just my interpretation of what was going on in Chelsea Banks’s beautiful brain, but I would have encouraged her to lick me if that was what pleased her. It certainly would have pleased me.
“Fuck it.” I said the words aloud, but I didn’t think she heard. I placed my hands on her hips and pulled her forward just an inch. “Don’t be shy, Chelsea Banks. Tell me what you think. Love ’em, hate ’em?”
She blew out a breath. It hit my shoulder and skated down my arm. “I don’t hate any of it. It’s all beautiful, Liam.” She wasn’t fucking with me. She wasn’t trying to impress me. I’d gotten to know Chelsea enough to know her goal was never to bullshit.
“You’re beautiful.”
Her eyes snapped to mine, then she drew in a quick breath as her eyes slipped to my lips. Fuck. I wanted to take her right there, dart my tongue into her mouth and pick her up by her bum so I could fuck her into tomorrow like I’d been dreaming of doing since the second we met.
She was breathing so heavily, and I wondered how long it had been for her. When had she broken up with the bloke who’d just left her place after an all-too-desperate attempt to win her affection back?
Which brought me to another strong suit about Chelsea Banks. She didn’t fuck around with men. When she was done, she was done, and no amount of groveling would win her back. I respected the fuck out of that. It also kind of shook me to my core. I wasn’t sure why. Maybe it was because I wouldn’t be there if it weren’t for the fact that I’d broken three hearts on national television. Something told me that Chelsea would look at me a whole lot differently if she knew my true reasons for being here.
Her touch drew me from my thoughts. She was following the outline of a tattoo on my left shoulder. “Can you tell me about this one?”
I looked down, but I already knew which one she was referencing. “That’s the bridge my brother and I used to sword fight on when we were kids. That’s his name spelled out with rocks from the creek. See it?”
“Yes,” she whispered when her gaze fell on the shape of the letters.
I loved her reaction, how her pink lips parted slightly, and she sucked in another surprised breath.
“Are these swallows?”
She traced the birds that flew above the bridge, and I had to control my next breath. Chelsea wasn’t the first woman to ever touch my tattoos. I loved it when women touched them, even the women who feigned interest as an excuse to touch me. But Chelsea was most definitely the first woman to peruse not just the designs but the intricacies of their lines and every shade of color. She was also questioning the meaning behind each design so intensely it was starting to make my chest rattle.
“They are,” I answered, nearly forgetting the question. But at the sound of my raspy voice—a traitor to my emotions—I cleared my throat to try again. My hands were still on her waist as she touched me, and suddenly I wished I was wearing something other than sweatpants.
“The swallow that’s flying apart from the flock, that’s my brother, free from the grief that I held on to for way too long. And that one is me.” I pointed to the bird behind him, leading the rest of the flock. “When I finally let him go and chose to celebrate his life rather than tarnish his memory with my own fuckups.”
Her eyes flickered to mine then back down to a set of rings. “For your time in the Olympics.”
I grinned. “The glory days.”
“Why’d you quit?”
Swallowing, I debated what I should tell her and just how much. Then I realized it didn’t really matter. Chelsea was safe. She was a stranger who I would know for a short time in my life then probably never see again. “For a while, I kept swimming for my brother, for his memory, in his honor. I beat the crap out of myself trying to outperform my own records, time and time again. Even my trainer tried to get me to slow down, but I couldn’t. If I wasn’t swimming, I was drowning in thoughts of Blake. I was pushing too hard, but even when my body started showing signs of wear and tear, I didn’t quit. That led to one injury after another after another until I was cut from the team and forced to reevaluate my life.”
“And did you?” She dropped her hands from my arm but didn’t make a move to step away. “Did you reevaluate your life?”
I shrugged, something inside me hardening at the thought of telling her more. “Not right away, no. I became quite the fuckup actually. I went from star Olympic athlete to the man who lived in his parents’ basement until his late twenties. I wasted a lot of years.”
“You’re not a fuckup.” The seriousness in her tone caught me off guard. She had my full attention. “You went through something no one should ever have to go through, and you were handling it the best way you knew how. We’re not supposed to have all our shit figured out, Liam. Anyone who pretends they do is lying. What matters is that you’re here today and that you’re doing good things with the time you’re given.” She inched forward, making my heart leap to life at her proximity. “So, what are you doing with your time, Liam Colborn?”
A flurry of emotions swirled in my chest, a complex mixture of fear and hope and excitement. I wanted to kiss her. I wanted to push her away. I wanted to throw her onto the couch and fuck her into tomorrow. Why did Chelsea test me, and my thoughts, in a way I’d never let another get remotely close to? And why did it thrill me and terrify me in equal measure?
“I guess I’m figuring that out,” I finally said, releasing my hands from her waist. My words were truer than she could understand, and our conversation only poured cold water on a moment that could have ended much differently.
As if she could read my thoughts, she took a step back then another, though a smile slowly appeared on her face. “Well, that makes two of us.”
10
Chelsea
We ate our
pizza on opposite ends of the couch while watching Win a Date with Tad Hamilton!—his pick, not mine—laughing at all the ridiculous lines and putting some physical and emotional space between us. After our conversation in the kitchen earlier, I felt like we both needed it.
It was strange, but I got the feeling that Liam could use a friend right then, attraction aside. It was nice to have him around to break up what could be a mundane week just brainstorming ideas for my next book and watering succulents. He was funny and nice to look at, and clearly I needed someone around to save me from myself on the regular. Not only that, but I felt stimulated just from his presence, like being around him made me feel more comfortable in my own skin. He made me feel bold, confident, safe. Probably because I knew he would be gone soon, back to London and to whatever life he’d needed to get away from.
I got up to pour myself another glass of wine and brought the bottle over to refill his too. He looked up, green eyes sparkling with fresh amusement from my favorite scene in the movie. Tad had just showed up at the Piggly Wiggly to ask the heroine on the date.
“Thanks, love.”
I would never get over Liam’s accent or the way my insides tingled as he spoke. He could literally say anything, and my body would quiver. I smiled and sat on the middle cushion before tucking my legs under me.
“We should venture out tomorrow. Maybe go downtown again and check out the parks.”
My gaze slid to his. By the flickering light of the television, I could see his eyes already locked on me. “Sure. But I need to work at some point.”
“Bring your work, and I’ll bring mine.”
I didn’t exactly know what Liam’s work consisted of since he was supposedly between contracts. “So, I’ll bring my notebook, and you’ll bring your…” I trailed off, waiting for him to fill in the blank.
He smiled and turned back to the television. “I’ll bring my notebook too.”
Laughing, I shook my head and turned back to the screen, trying to let the movie replace every thought of the very sexy, and still shirtless, man sitting next to me. It was an impossible task, but I definitely earned an E for effort by the time the credits started rolling.
Our wine was gone. The room was still dark, and the soundtrack to the movie played on as neither of us moved. It was late. Without a clock in sight, my guess was that it was nearing midnight, and if I wanted to have a clear head tomorrow, I would need to head to bed.
“I should bog off.” Liam shifted.
My mood dimmed, and my heart squeezed while my mind screamed for him to stay. What was wrong with me? Liam was like one giant red flag that waved boldly and brightly, and I couldn’t seem to heed the warning. I didn’t want him to bog off.
Then he stood, making my chest ache even more. He held out his hands, and I took them, letting him help me to my feet and wrap me straight in his arms. He held me firmly, applying pressure just slightly as I slid my arms around him and squeezed him back.
Damn, he even hugged like a pro. If embracing was an Olympic sport, I was certain he would earn all the gold medals.
“Thanks for rescuing me, once again.” My cheek was flat against his chest as I spoke. I sensed his smile in return.
“You didn’t need any rescuing tonight, but it was my pleasure to help you chase that bloke away. I’ll be your Willy anytime you need one, love.”
We chuckled, but I could feel my body heat at the innuendo behind his words. I wondered how true that was. There was clearly something between us, chemistry I hadn’t felt in a very long time. But the disappointment that came with even humoring that idea was a heavy blow.
I lifted my cheek to face him and smiled. “Good to know.”
His stare grew more intense with my words, like maybe he was hoping for an invite. How I managed to hold his gaze with my heart racing in my chest was a mystery all on its own.
Then his eyes darted between mine. He leaned down, soft lips brushing my cheek just slow enough to send a wave of chills blasting through my body. I didn’t mean to hold him tighter, but it was either that or melt into a puddle at his feet.
When his mouth hit my ear, my lids slammed closed, and I sucked in a sharp breath. My skin tingled everywhere. My heart galloped, and when I felt Liam grow hard beneath his sweatpants, I knew I wasn’t imagining a single thing.
“You are quite lovely, Chelsea Banks.”
He kissed my ear, so softly enough I thought I might have imagined it, then he kissed my cheek while running gentle circles on my back with his palm. God, he smelled good, like fresh basil and strong wine. If I played my cards right, he could be my second dinner—and maybe even my breakfast.
“You’re not so bad yourself.” I pulled in a steadier breath than the one before it and dared a look. Our mouths were only inches apart, and his hold on me indicated he had no intention of letting go. I slid my hand around from his back to his stomach then moved it up to his chest, savoring the deep valleys and perfect ridges of his muscles. Dean hadn’t felt like that, like he was sculpted from God’s best tools.
I’d been so focused on the feel of Liam that I’d almost missed that his hands had been roaming too. One was cupping my neck while the other had slipped beneath my shirt and now rested at my waist. He leaned in, breathing me in as he did. “I should go before you hate me in the morning.”
I smiled, knowing exactly what he meant. We could let whatever this was between us get out of control. We could kiss. We could strip. We could make magic with our bodies. But then what? What would come from a night of unadulterated bliss? I wasn’t ready to find out.
“Okay,” I finally said, breathing the word on a whisper.
That broke the spell.
Liam took a step back, and I walked him to the door. He wrapped me in his arms for another hug before kissing my forehead then walking across the pool patio, out the gate, and out of sight.
I debated taking a cold shower, anything to settle my racing heart. I felt like I was back in grade school, locked in a coat closet with my biggest crush. I didn’t know how to handle myself, what to say or do. While I felt more confident than I had in my life, I was also more nervous than I’d ever been before—and now frustrated.
With a groan, I kicked open my bedroom door and tore off my clothes. I didn’t even bother to dress before slipping into bed and throwing my hands over my eyes. All I could see was Liam. His smile, those rock-hard abs. I could feel him too. Hard for me while all I wanted to do was melt for him.
When I adjusted slightly, the fabric of the sheet rubbed my hard nipple, making me shake with want. Would it have been so bad to pull Liam into my bedroom and fuck his brains out? We were both grown adults. Maybe holding back our attraction wasn’t the right answer. Maybe we needed to give into it.
I moved, feeling the sheet rub against my nipples again. I shuddered. It had been a long time since anyone had touched me there. I ran a finger over them, imagining Liam using his hot, wine-flavored tongue on me, licking, sucking, savoring. He seemed like someone who would take his time, knowing just what to do to get me off, maybe even more than once. But more than I craved his touch, I wanted to feel him inside me.
My fingers moved between my legs and slid through my wet center. He hadn’t even touched me. Hadn’t even kissed me, and I was nearly there. I couldn’t go through the night without getting myself off.
A vision from earlier that morning flashed through my mind. I’d gone to the Hogues’ to drop off the mail, and I’d heard noises coming from the basement. Part of me had known that Liam was down there, that I shouldn’t step a foot closer, but my curiosity got the better of me. When I saw the door to his room open, I knew I shouldn’t have taken that peek inside. It was wrong on so many levels, but the fact that I’d stayed to watch him pleasure himself was far worse than any sin I’d ever committed.
I placed two fingers on my clit and rubbed while replaying my visit to Liam’s room, where I’d peered through the crack of the already opened door and had to brace myself at the sight.
He’d kicked the blue sheets of his bed down around his feet, his underwear tossed beside the bed. His knees had been up, and his hand had gripped his veiny cock, moving up and down with a rhythm that told me he’d done it a million times before. His abs had tightened and his breathing had intensified. I had wanted him to be thinking about me.
As much as I’d wanted to watch him finish himself off, my morals had finally kicked in. It had been wrong to look in the first place, but now, it was all that played in my mind while I slid two fingers deep inside myself and worked myself to the brink.
My right hand moved to my heaving breasts and squeezed while I quickened my movements with my other hand, which had just struck gold. With Liam on my mind, our hug from tonight in my heart, and my fingers in my pussy, stars burst beneath my squeezed eyelids. I came alive.
11
Liam
When I knocked on Chelsea’s door in the morning, she was all ready to go. She stepped out and turned to lock her door. Damn, was my first thought.
She was dressed in white jean shorts that showed off her perfect sun-kissed legs, a pale-blue T-shirt that was tucked into her shorts, and tan sandals. Her hair was down and lightly curled around her shoulders, and the only touch of makeup she appeared to be wearing was a layer of gloss on her lips.
She carried a small backpack that she threw over her shoulders then smiled. “Ready to go?”
“Hey. That was my line.”
Chelsea stepped forward with a little laugh, placing her sunglasses over her eyes and walking past me toward the gate. “It’s mine now.”
That exchange was my first clue as to how the day would go. Flirtation. It was right where we’d left off last night, and right where we would pick up that day.
“How’d you sleep?” I asked once she was buckled in the driver’s seat.
I swore her cheeks darkened a shade. “Fine. And you?”
I studied her face a little longer, confirming a blush was creeping up her cheeks. It could have meant anything, but I wanted to imagine Chelsea getting naughty after I left last night. I sure as hell had. After all the sexual tension that had been suffocating us during our drawn-out goodbye, I couldn’t have gone to sleep without a little release. Chelsea had no idea the effect she’d had on me since I’d met her.