by Nicole Helm
She looked so pleased with herself, self-satisfied and easy with it, nothing like the woman he’d seen her as not that long ago.
It was kind of amazing he got to see this side to her, because she hadn’t always been that free and easy with it. Maybe it was part of the new path she was blazing, but maybe it had something to do with him. Or them together.
“You do come prepared,” he managed to say, keeping himself from rubbing at the weird tightness in his chest.
“We’ve had a few things interrupt us. I wasn’t about to let that happen again.”
“Come here.” Because if she didn’t come to him, he was liable to lose whatever locks he had on the control it took to keep from simply taking her to the floor and ending this all too quickly. He had no qualms about the floor, but he wanted more than quick and reckless.
God help him.
She arched an eyebrow at him. “In the kitchen?” she returned skeptically.
He returned the arched eyebrow look. “I think we can do it anywhere we want.”
She ran a finger under the top of the box, carefully pulling it open. She pulled one condom out of it before walking slowly toward him. Not even a walk. She downright sauntered, and Liam stood where he was watching Kayla Gallagher walk across his kitchen straight for him. Him.
She held out the condom. “You’re in charge of that.”
He took it from her, and though he wanted to immediately touch her, take her, he simply placed the condom in his pocket and waited. He was too curious to see what her first move would be. Would she be bold? Shy? Would she do that shoulders back, deep breath thing where she mustered up all of her courage and did something clearly out of the ordinary for her?
The funny thing was, he liked all of those parts of her. The shy and the brave. The timid and the bold. All of it made up this woman standing before him, and he was so damn gone over her he could barely see straight.
She reached out and brushed her fingertips over his beard. It never failed to send a shudder through him. She did it when she wanted to comfort him, like when they’d been talking about Aiden. She did it when they kissed. She did it and it was always a certain level of sweet to feel someone reach out and touch him so gently.
It was a . . . rarity. So much of one he didn’t even realize it was rare until she did it. He supposed that was his own fault, as gruff and quiet as he could be. Still, it didn’t seem to faze Kayla.
Though he’d meant to wait and see what her next move would be, he placed his hand over hers on his jaw, unable to resist connection over connection.
“You like it when I do that?” she asked softly.
“Yes.”
“Do you like having a beard?”
He laughed at the odd question. “Well, yes, that is why I have it. Do you like it?”
She grinned and nodded. “I’ve never dated a guy with facial hair before.” Her eyebrows drew together. “I guess technically we’re not dating.”
“I . . .” He didn’t know what to say to that. They hadn’t exactly been on any dates. He should probably rectify that. She definitely deserved dates in nice restaurants and, like, art places or some shit. Stuff she was interested in. He should be trying to impress her, and instead they were always at his place making out in his kitchen.
Which truth be told was his preference, but this wasn’t all about him.
“I didn’t mean to make it weird. It’s not like we have to date. I . . .” She shook her head and did that squared shoulders thing. She opened her mouth, likely to say something more confident sounding, but he didn’t want to let that awkward silence stand enough for her to be the one who had to fix it.
“I guess we haven’t been on an official date, but it’s not like we’re not seeing each other.”
“Seeing each other,” she repeated and she smiled.
“But we can. I mean we will. Date. And . . . shit.” He closed his eyes feeling like a tool. “Can we go back to the precursor to sex, because I’m fairly confident in my skills there. Talking, not so much.”
She rubbed her hand up and down his jaw again, and Liam never took his hand off of hers. He just followed the movement.
“I think you do okay,” she offered, her mouth still that sweet curve, her hand a gentle, comforting pressure against his face.
“If that’s actually true, it’s because of you, because no one has ever given me credit for being good with words. Unless they were to break up a fight.”
She bit her bottom lip, looking at him through those golden lashes. There was something in her expression he couldn’t read. “Ever the fixer.”
She didn’t say it with awe or gratefulness, not an ounce of Aiden’s sarcasm. She said it as if it were simply an inexorable part of himself, and he’d always thought that was true. Fixing wasn’t a choice he made. It was simply who he was.
Still, he didn’t know what that meant with Kayla. She needed none of his fixing, and somehow that was both terrifying and . . . tempting.
Something good and bright and sweet, all for him. He didn’t have a clue what to do with that, so he lowered his mouth to hers. He tried to give her some semblance of what he felt in the kiss. Sweetness and hope. A chest-tightening, heart-pinching, brain-defying feeling that was all gentle brushes and light pressure.
Her fingers moved up over his cheeks and his temples and into his hair. She melted against him soft and sweet and pliant.
For the first time in all the ways they’d come together, he felt content to take things slow. To run his hands over her neck, feeling each goose bump pop up. To memorize the slope of her shoulders and the soft texture of her inner wrist. To mold his hands over her sides and hips and commit them to a memory of more than just brain, but soul and heart.
She sighed into his mouth, and though his dick throbbed with the need and want, his heart pounded slowly and contentedly to exist here in the sweet honey taste of her mouth and the velvety softness of her lips. He was happy to exist in this moment of perfection.
Until she gave his hair a little tug. Hard enough to pull his mouth a fraction away from hers. His eyes fluttered open and he glanced down at her. She had a flush to her cheeks and her lips were wet from his mouth and tongue. Her eyes were dark metallic blue and everything about her was a study in perfect beauty.
She didn’t say anything and for a few seconds they simply looked at each other, his heart beating hard against hers.
She released his hair slowly, and then her fingers dipped under his shirt and she tugged the hem up with a slow, almost agonizing pace. Her fingertips explored the expanse of his stomach, back and forth and up and down until he practically had to shudder with the need for more. But she only laughed and moved higher, his shirt lifting only as far as her arms did.
Her fingertips missed nothing. They moved feather light over the ridge of his stomach, moving across the indentations of his chest. She scraped her fingernails across his nipples and he choked back a moan. All the while she watched the path of her fingers, grinning. It was that grin, that self-satisfied smirk he only just learned she had, that kept him from stopping her or doing anything in return.
She pulled the shirt up over his head and dropped it onto his kitchen floor. He supposed another man would give Kayla candlelight and flowers and bedrooms and something that made sense, something that fit her grace and beauty. But he couldn’t find it in him in this moment to offer those things to her. He wanted her. Her hands on him, her body bared to him. He didn’t particularly care what kind of lighting there was or what room in his house they were in. He just wanted her.
Her fingertips scraped down his chest and stomach to the button of his pants. She began to unfasten his jeans, tugging them down. With every move she made, she carefully avoided the thick protrusion of his erection. She was teasing him and something about that struck him as perfect.
But when she began to lower to her knees, he grabbed her hard and quick to stop her. “No.”
She looked up at him with something like a pout. “But I want to
taste you.”
Christ, she was going to kill him. “There will be very few times in my life where I say no to that, Kayla, but tonight I want . . . I need . . .” He thought back to earlier when he’d said the crude words to her. And she’d said she liked it.
“You want to be inside me,” she said, not quite meeting his gaze.
“I need to be inside you.”
She bit her lip again. “Well . . .” She glanced up at him, her smile spreading. “That can probably be arranged, but you might have to take off my clothes.”
He laughed, though it came out more of a strained chuckle. But he didn’t reach out to take off her clothes.
Maybe it was foolish to want this to be special. He’d never been any good at making things special. Romantic. That just wasn’t who he was, but when it came to Kayla, he wanted to be able to find it in himself to give her something special or important. He wanted to show her that even though he could be rough and not very good with softness, he did have it in him. When it came to her.
Which was probably stupid.
“Okay, I’ll do it myself.” She pulled her shirt up and over her head, dropping it on top of his on the floor. She reached back presumably to undo her bra, but he put a hand on her soft stomach, splaying out his fingers to revel in the velvety satin of her skin.
“Stop,” he ordered. He needed to get in the game. Focus. Stop worrying about “special” and shit like that and enjoy the damn moment.
She cocked her head as if considering whether or not to listen to him. “You know, as much as I like your orders, and believe me I definitely do, I think tonight . . .” She nodded her head as if she’d made some important decision. “Tonight I’m going to be in charge. And I’ll take very good care of you,” she whispered, kissing his chest right above where his heart thudded hard.
It was meant to be about sex, but in the context of this night and her asking him what was wrong, and listening to his problems, it felt so much more weighted.
People didn’t take care of him. Why would they? He could take care of himself.
“Not so used to that, are you?” she asked, brushing her mouth against his jaw.
“Which part?”
She chuckled. “Both, I think. Not used to being taken care of, and not used to letting anyone else be in charge. Well, I think it’s time you experience both.”
“Do you now?”
She moved onto her toes, pressing a firm kiss to his mouth. “Yes,” she said, meeting his gaze, so sure and beautiful. “Prepare yourself for total domination.”
He raised an eyebrow at that and the pink flush of excitement on her cheeks turned darker, closer to red.
“Okay, maybe domination wasn’t the right word,” she said, her voice ending on a squeak.
He laughed and he couldn’t remember ever laughing with someone over sex. Couldn’t ever remember feeling this lightness along with all of the hammering need and heat.
There was a little prickle of unease at the back of his spine. The concern this was too much for him. Too big. He would ruin it.
He shoved that thought away, because he was not a ruiner. He was a fixer.
Chapter Twelve
Kayla had never seduced a man before. Of course, this wasn’t exactly seduction. Liam was already seduced. He wanted to have sex with her. He was quite ready to have sex with her. This was about her taking charge.
She had definitely never, ever done that before. She had always let the guy lead, and there was something nice about that, but she wasn’t looking for nice here. She was looking for important and meaningful. She felt both of those things because not only was she doing something she’d never done, but she was giving him something he’d never had.
She rubbed her palms over the hard plane of his chest. He was so broad. Muscle and hair and just so very . . . manly, she supposed. Which seemed like a silly descriptor, but she’d never met someone who had that sort of virility. She didn’t know anyone who fixed things and made things, who seemed to take care without steamrolling over everything.
She’d never known anyone like him. So she kissed him and touched him. She reveled in the slow, soft way he touched her back as if giving her the thing she wanted. The power. The control. He was touching her only in the ways she touched him. Giving her the space to lead.
She arched against him, rubbing what she could against the hard long length of him. He was so very big. He would fill her completely.
Maybe she was setting herself up for disappointment, but she had a feeling that finding her orgasm wouldn’t be the struggle it usually was. Usually it was a lot of trying to figure out how to contort herself without having to tell the guy he wasn’t quite hitting the right spot.
But Liam . . . He seemed to be able to look at people and understand them. She was probably putting too much faith in that, but with the promise of sex, it was hard to care. It was hard to worry.
They would work together to get them both to that final part, of that she was sure.
Slowly she drew her mouth from his, looking up at him and studying the hard lines of his face. He looked so very serious and yet there was something sort of... lighter about him. Sometimes he had the world-weary heaviness about all the things he took care of, but he’d dropped that somewhere along the line tonight.
It was almost as if she had caused that in him. Maybe he liked her that much, and her presence was something like meaningful. Not a pretty decoration, not someone to manipulate. Just someone he enjoyed being with.
She took his hand in hers, determined to make this . . . special. It was probably schoolgirl foolishness that she wanted her first actual sex time with Liam to be special—something she could remember and cherish, but that’s exactly what she wanted from this. From him.
But if she thought too much about that, tried too hard for that, it would lead to another hundred thoughts that were probably too serious for where they were right now. So she pushed them away and led Liam out of the kitchen, into the hall, and to his bedroom.
She didn’t know why leading him gave her such a thrill. Obviously he was letting her do it and yet she didn’t think he would let just anyone lead him.
Inside his bedroom, they stood facing each other. Him in only his low-slung jeans, and her in only her skinny jeans and bra.
She studied him and then his unmade bed. She felt giddy and nervous and one million other things at once, but mostly she knew that even if she said something silly or stupid, Liam would never make her feel those things. It was that which gave her the courage to be brave.
“Take off your pants and lay down.”
His mouth quirked into a little bit of a smile, but he undid the button of his jeans, and then the zipper. He took the condom out of his pocket and tossed it onto the corner of the bed, then pushed his pants off his narrow hips and onto the ground. He aimed that lazy half-smile at her as he slid onto the bed, sprawling out on his back and crossing his arms behind his head.
He made quite the picture, all defined muscle at rest, impressive bulge under the boxers he wore.
She undid the clasp of her bra and let it fall to the ground. She didn’t miss the way his mouth firmed and his eyes zeroed in on her naked breasts. She tried to memorize the way he breathed deeply and clearly appreciated the look of her as much as she appreciated the look of him.
Heart pounding, a steady thrum of need working through her body, she shimmied out of her own pants and stepped out of them so they lay on the floor next to his.
Willing herself to continue to be brave, she crawled up on the bed and over Liam. The soft slide of her legs against the coarse hair on his. She kept her hands on the smooth cotton of his sheets even as she let her gaze take in every last inch of him. Honed muscle and dark hair. The dips and curves of a man whose body was a tool he used at work.
Eventually her gaze traveled to his face. He still had that firm, jaw-tightened expressed about him, as though he had to fight that hard to hold himself back. Kayla couldn’t say she minded if h
e did. His eyes were that glittering blue that should remind her of icy winter skies, but instead reminded her of the inside of a flame. His dark beard and hair such a sharp contrast to the color of his skin.
He didn’t move underneath her, just looked right back at her. The only hint he felt anything was the tenseness of his jaw and the slightly heavy breathing.
The only place they touched was their legs, hers straddling his. Still, he didn’t move to touch her, to bring her closer, and the moment stretched quiet and heavy, and somehow the pulsing need inside of her thudded harder, coiled tighter.
Was he wondering where she would touch him first? Anticipating it as much as she was? Their bodies coming together, fully, wholly. The thought ricocheted through her, hot and potent, so she lowered her body on top of his, stretching over him, every part of her touching him, except where they both still had on their underwear. His skin was surprisingly smooth in places, though rough against her chest and stomach where a smattering of hair rubbed against her.
She pressed a chaste kiss to his mouth, reveling in the feel of the hard outline of him through the thin cotton they both wore. Thick and ready. She wanted to tease him, maybe even torture him with that slight separation between them, but resting the already slick folds of herself against his cock was torture to her as well. She didn’t want fabric barriers. She wanted him inside. Thrusting and hard and unrelenting.
She wanted so much more than a few gentle teasing touches. She wanted to be consumed by this strong, tough man.
And shouldn’t she have what she wanted? What did special matter if it wasn’t what she actually wanted? What did it matter what she was supposed to like or want when it came to sex? It was just the two of them. This would always just be for the two of them, and it didn’t matter what was good or right or bad or wrong. It was only what she and he wanted.
She tugged the waistband of his boxers down and sighed at the gorgeous sight of aroused male. She slid her entire body down him as she pulled the boxers off his legs. She let her nipples brush against his thighs and her fingertips slide against his calves. She tossed the boxers away and then wriggled out of her own panties.