by Darcy Burke
Sinking farther into the couch, she pulled up the DVR menu and scanned the shows she’d recorded. Ugh, why was she still recording some of these? There were shows she hadn’t watched in over a year. As she set about cleaning things up, a knock on the door startled her.
She set the remote on the couch and stood up to look through the windows in the door. Liam again?
He knocked, and she went to the door, opening it wide. It was a good thing, because he walked right in without waiting for her to invite him.
“Hi, Liam. Come in.” She shut the door with a loud click.
He walked into the front room and set his helmet on the window seat. “I read the brief.”
She stepped toward him but kept her distance. Given the firm downturn of his mouth and the pitch of his brows, she gathered he hadn’t liked what she’d written. “What’s wrong with it?”
His expression didn’t alter. “It’s fine.”
“Then why are you looking at me as if I’ve just fed you bad fish?”
At that, his features loosened, but only for a moment. The grooves in his forehead came back almost immediately. “Because it’s not good enough to beat Sutherlin.”
How dare he? She’d worked her ass off on that brief. Pure anger scalded her insides and burned away any trace of shame she’d felt at being in his presence again. “How would you know?”
“Because I’ve been a party to a dozen of these cases. Maybe more. How many have you done?”
One. This one. She bristled but refused to let him see her vulnerability. “Why does that matter?”
“Because Sutherlin has probably done hundreds.”
She crossed her arms, and her shoulders tensed up. “Tell me specifically what’s wrong.”
“I e-mailed you a detailed list about a half hour ago.”
A detailed list? “As you can see, I’m done working for the day. I’ll read it tomorrow.” She dropped her arms and turned toward the front door. “Sorry you rode all the way over here just to tell me something you’d already put in an e-mail. I thought you were a little more technologically savvy than that.”
He advanced on her, his gaze softening, turning almost condescending—or so it seemed in her agitated state. “I wanted to talk to you in person. Like a friend would.”
“A friend who tells you that you’re a terrible lawyer? Thanks, but I think I’m actually good on the friend front.” Unlike her vulnerability, she didn’t bother trying to hide her smirk or her annoyance. “You know, if you had such a problem with me handling this case, you should’ve said so from the start.”
He stared at her. “I did. I also never said I had a problem with you handling it. I just have a problem with the brief. Read my notes, and fix it. You’ll see I’m right.”
“Or maybe you should find a new attorney, and they can fix it.” She turned and walked toward the door, intent on throwing it open and shoving him outside.
He followed her. “Hey, why are you so mad?”
She put her hand on the doorknob and was about to turn it when he put his palm flat against the edge, holding it closed.
“Tell me why you’re so mad.”
She didn’t release the doorknob but turned her head to glare at him. “You just came here to tell me my hard work is subpar, and you have the gall to ask why I’m mad?”
He lifted his hand from the door and brushed it through his hair. “Hey, I’m trying not to be a dick. Sometimes with work stuff I can be a little too intense. Sorry. Was I a dick about it?”
Maybe not, but that didn’t change things. Change what exactly? That he was here in her house again, and all she wanted to do was drag him upstairs and toss him on her bed?
She turned the knob and pulled the door open, but he slammed it shut with his palm.
“What the hell?” Her eyes widened, and she stared at him.
“I think you’re picking a fight with me on purpose,” he said. “This feels strangely like the first time we met. When I picked a fight with you. I accused you of taking advantage of Alex, of billing him for hours and hours of work when you knew he was going to kill himself. I did everything except come out and accuse you of helping him to commit suicide.”
“Actually, I think you might’ve done that, too.” She’d been horrified by his anger, but even more than that, she’d been anguished by his grief—because she’d felt it, too. She’d felt incredibly used and duped by Alex, a man she’d come to like, respect, and trust.
Liam had been so angry that tears had actually leaked from his eyes. Not many, maybe two or three, and she wasn’t sure to this day if he’d even been aware of them. But from the moment she’d seen them, she hadn’t been able to sustain her anger with him. Desperate to help him, she’d reached out and touched his face.
And that was all it had taken.
The contact had been like electricity—sharp and sudden, transformative. She hadn’t known then but in hindsight recognized she would never be the same.
He ignited something within her. A power and drive, a connection to another person that seemed to eclipse any other relationship she’d had.
All of their grief, their desperation, their need had flowed between them. A moment later, when their lips met, it had honestly felt like some Grand Destiny, the kind of epic love story moment that made most people roll their eyes.
It was remarkable considering he’d stormed into her office like a giant . . . dick. Not like tonight. He might’ve been dickish, but he hadn’t been as awful as that night.
“I’d rather not think about that,” she said at last, too aware of his hand on the door and its proximity to her hand on the knob.
“I can’t seem to think of anything else right now. Something happened that night . . . ”
Oh God, if he said anything close to what she’d felt, she would melt into a giant puddle, and there would be absolutely no hope for her where he was concerned. She was trying so hard to get over him, and he was making it impossible.
“Please don’t talk about it.” She sounded croaky as a frog.
He moved his hand down the door. She saw it happen, could’ve moved her hand away. But she didn’t. When he touched her, it was that night in her office all over again. Except this time she knew. She knew how it could end.
His fingers grazed over her thumb and stroked up to her wrist. “It’s too bad you’re seeing Stuart, because if you weren’t, I would put that night to shame.”
Desire, already pooling thick and hot in her belly, ignited into a firestorm of lust. Unable to look in his eyes, she kept her focus on the door. “As a matter of fact, I’m not seeing Stuart, so I guess you’ll have to rely on your ‘friends’ excuse.”
He twined his fingers through hers and lifted her arm, pinning it against the door as he pivoted into her. She had no choice but to turn with him until her back was against the wood. His blue-gray eyes bore into hers, stoking the need rioting through her. “I’d rather be your lover than your friend. Will you let me? Please?”
She shouldn’t. He wasn’t her future. He didn’t know how to plan past next weekend’s thrill ride. But he was right now. Here. And she’d never wanted anything or anyone so badly in her life. One more time. One more night to carry her through all the other nights to come.
With her free hand, she grabbed the front of his shirt and pulled him forward. “Yes. For tonight. Just like the song.” She knew he would understand the Dave Matthews Band song she meant.
He slipped his hand along her neck and cupped the back of it as his lips found hers. As familiar as his kiss had become, it was always as thrilling as the first time. Even when she’d been drunk the other night, she’d reveled in the rush of excitement and her insatiable need for him.
He pushed his tongue into her mouth as his hips came against hers, grinding.
Apparently his need was just as insatiable.
She pushed his jacket off and tossed it toward the window seat, but missed. Uncaring, she clutched at his back with her free hand, then moved it d
own to his ass. She widened her stance and pulled him harder into her body. She wanted to feel him against her core. She wanted him to ease the ache she’d been living with for far too damn long.
He licked and sucked at her mouth, reminding her of why he was the most skilled lover she’d ever had. He’d used that word—lover—and she’d been lost. She’d had boyfriends, but she didn’t think she’d ever had a lover. She worried she wouldn’t have one ever again.
She closed her mind to that thought. To everything but the heat of his tongue, the pulse of his chest against hers, the rigidity of his cock pressing between her legs.
He released her hand and brought his hand to her side, massaging her through the bulk of her sweatshirt. The cozy garment had been a great idea for relaxing on the couch. Not so much for sexy times with the hottest guy she’d ever known. She let him go in order to tug at the hem and pull it over her head.
Realizing her intent, he helped. And was much more efficient as he stripped it from her with one fluid movement. He had to break the kiss, and he’d apparently opened his eyes—as she had.
“You aren’t wearing a bra,” he rasped.
“I thought I was done for the day. You know, snuggled up on the couch with a glass of wine. Who needs a bra for that?”
The way he stared at her breasts made her heart pound. He made her feel so sexy and desirable. Like he could never get enough of her. But then, that’s what insatiable meant, wasn’t it?
“You don’t need a bra ever again, as far as I’m concerned.” He brought both hands up and cupped her, weighing her flesh, driving shocks of need deep into her core. Her legs quivered with desire. He ran his thumbs over the nipples, then rolled them between his fingertips before pulling just enough to make her gasp. He repeated the series—cup, thumb, roll, pull. Once, twice, by the third time she’d cast her head back against the door and closed her eyes, letting sensation overtake everything else.
Then his mouth replaced his touch, and she nearly crumpled to the floor. She clutched at his head, threading her fingers into his thick hair, and held onto him as if he could hold her upright. He braced a hand on her hips, squeezing her, and that helped her stay on her feet as dizzying waves of pleasure washed over her. He sucked and licked, making a feast of her flesh, before moving to the other one, where he repeated the delicious torture.
She widened her legs, and he seemed to understand her unspoken need as his palm covered her and pressed against her clit. But then, he always knew what she wanted before she did. He knew things she wanted that she’d never even imagined. Things that were now firmly entrenched in her dreams.
But this wasn’t a dream. This was real. This was happening. And it flew in the face of every bit of common sense she possessed. He pressed harder against her. A flash of light ignited behind her closed eyes as ecstasy warned her that an orgasm wasn’t far off.
Screw common sense.
He pulled his mouth from her breast and came back up. His lips and tongue teased her ear as his hand moved over her yoga pants. “Where? Here? Someplace else?”
They’d had sex in some interesting places and in probably every position imaginable—at least that she could think of. She wouldn’t put it past Liam to have something up his sleeve.
She wanted him now. “Couch to your left in the TV room or dining-room table to your right.”
His tongue traced the shell of her ear before he whispered, “There’s the window seat if you want to give the neighbors a little show.”
She wasn’t really interested in exhibitionism, but damn if he didn’t make it sound sexy as hell. “You’re a bad influence, you know that?”
He chuckled low and deep, and she felt the vibration in her chest. “You like it.”
She did. She loved it.
“But I think I choose dining-room table for now,” he said. “The blinds in there are closed, I see. Later, I’m taking you up to your bed. If memory serves, it’s particularly comfortable, and I think you have a vibrator in your bedside table—”
She pulled his head to hers and kissed him, her mouth open and wet and absolutely desperate. After plundering his mouth, she nipped his lip and looked into his eyes. They’d darkened to the color of blue spruce. “You’re so naughty.”
He arched a brow. “You’re the one with a sex toy at the ready.”
If they didn’t escalate this situation fast, she was going to abandon him for said sex toy. “Table. Now.”
He slid his hands between her ass and the door and cupped her, squeezing her flesh. Then he lifted her up against the door and thrust, bringing him flush against her core and forcing a delighted gasp from her throat. “Put your legs around me.”
She encircled his hips with her legs and locked her feet together behind his ass. He was nice and snug against her now. She wrapped her arms around his neck.
He kissed her hard and fast as he pivoted from the door. “You are so hot—in every sense of the word.” With a few short strides he carried her to the dining-room table. “You sure this is going to hold?”
“It’s well made. Thick. Hard.” She laughed deep in her throat. “Listen to me. You are a bad influence.”
He walked to the head of the table and moved the chair there before setting her ass on the edge. “I love it when you talk dirty. You might persuade me into a long-distance relationship after all, especially if you promise Skype sex.”
His words should’ve dragged her out of the moment, brought her back to reality—the one where they had no future. But she’d become very adept at ignoring the voice of reason shouting in the recesses of her mind. He was just being flirty and sexy. A big tease.
She could dish it out as good as she could take it. “You don’t want a long-distance relationship. You want a convenient screw, and right now that’s what I want, too.”
He stood between her legs and clasped her hips, frowning. Frowning? “You are much more than that.”
“Am I?” Her pulse seemed to stop for a second, but it resumed its frenetic beat almost immediately.
He pushed her hair back from her face and pulled it down her back. “I care about you. A lot. You know that, right?”
She didn’t want this conversation. Not right now. Maybe not ever. “You’re killing my sex buzz right now, you know that, right?”
His mouth spread into a smile, and again her pulse reacted, this time speeding up. He was so unbelievably attractive, especially when he smiled. And when that smile was directed at you . . . She didn’t think there was anything better.
“My bad,” he said, looping his thumbs into the back of her yoga pants. “I think these are in the way.”
“Along with everything you’re wearing.”
He pulled at her pants and her underwear, and she lifted her ass from the table so he could strip them over her hips and off her legs. He wasted no time in moving back to stand between her thighs.
She pushed his shirt up and exposed his abs. He was impossibly fit and toned, as if he’d walked out of a Men’s Fitness spread. The worst part was that she didn’t think it took a lot of effort. Granted, he was very active and he did go to the gym, but she’d never seen him worry about what he ate or drinking too much beer.
She pressed her lips to his pec, tracing them over the muscle until she found his nipple. “Your body is so unfair.” She licked at him, then sucked hard. He loved that.
He sucked in a breath. “Are you complaining?”
“Only that you’re moving too slow.” She trailed her mouth across his chest.
He grasped her hips again, kneading her flesh. “My bad again. Is it my fault I enjoy our sexy banter?”
“We didn’t always have sexy banter,” she said. “I seem to remember our first couple of hook-ups being pretty much conversation-free.”
He brought one hand between her thighs and stroked along her cleft. She trembled with need. Suddenly she didn’t want any conversation at all. She gripped his bicep. “Liam.”
“Mmm.” His mouth captured hers in
a bruising, delicious kiss while his fingers teased her flesh.
She brought her hips up, seeking more than he was giving her. He was still moving too damn slow.
He broke the kiss and laid his palm flat against her chest. Then he pushed her back—gently but firmly—onto the table. The wood was cool on her bare, heated back. But the exquisite shivers dancing through her body had nothing to do with the temperature and everything to do with Liam. He thumbed her clit, circling her flesh, pressing down, driving her wild with an urgent craving.
She closed her eyes as he thrust a finger into her sheath, answering her need. But it wasn’t enough. She wanted more of him. She wanted all of him. Now.
When she felt his tongue against her flesh, her eyes flew open. She tugged on his hair. “No. I don’t want to wait.”
He licked along her folds and suckled her clit. “I’ve been thinking of this for days. Weeks. Months.”
His words excited her more than anything he’d done to her physically. He’d wanted her as badly as she’d wanted him. But that wasn’t the obstacle between them. It was, if anything, part of the problem. To want someone so much yet remain unable to forge a future . . . The direction of her thoughts threatened to devastate what was left of her rational mind.
“Later,” she managed, barely clinging to sanity amid his touch, his words, his simple proximity.
He hovered over her, his breath tickling her cleft. “Promise?”
She dug her fingers into his scalp. “Yes. Now fuck me. Please.”
He kissed her one last time, his mouth drawing on her flesh just before he stood. He pulled his wallet from his back pocket and withdrew a condom.
“I see you’re prepared, as usual. You’re such a cocky bastard.”
He arched a brow at her as he unbuttoned his jeans. “I’ll show you cocky.”
She stared up at his hard chest, at the plane of his stomach, and lower as he revealed himself to her. He pushed his jeans and underwear down over his hips, and she snagged her lower lip with her teeth.