by Sara Desai
Liam ordered two shots of whiskey from a passing waiter while Hunter regaled Daisy with amusing anecdotes from Wim Wenders’s best art house films. He drank them one after another and ordered three more.
“What are you doing?” Daisy whispered after Hunter excused himself to talk to his friends at a nearby table. “You’re going to get wasted.”
Liam wasn’t drunk, but getting close. His brain was fuzzed and it was getting more and more difficult to keep his emotions under control. “What’s the deal with this dude? Why is he so interested in postwar European auteurs, and why does he keep looking down your dress?”
“He isn’t looking down my dress.” Daisy’s eyes widened. “Are you jealous?”
“No. Look at me. Utter magnificence. Why would I be jealous? I could take him down with a pantheon of punches.”
She quirked an eyebrow. “Why would you need to take him down? Mia says he’s interested in me, and you and I are in a fake relationship.”
“It didn’t feel fake to me when I broke your bed.” He puffed out his chest. “How many men have given you that kind of ride?”
“Liam!”
“So, are you going home with him tonight?” He swallowed hard, trying to keep his anger in check. “Are you going to watch Wim Wenders films and share interesting trivia facts while you—”
“Do not even go there,” she warned.
“I think the waiter was held up at the bar.” He pushed his chair away. “I’ll get Rainey to set me up. Do you want anything?”
“I want you to stop drinking.” She stood beside him. “I’m going to tell her to cut you off.”
“Be my guest.”
Rainey was busy talking to Hunter at the bar. The dude was like a snake, slithering all over the place, sticking his nose where it didn’t belong. Or was it a tongue? How did snakes smell? He opened his mouth to ask Daisy, but Hunter got to her first.
“Hey, babe.” Hunter smiled. He’d obviously had dental work. No one’s teeth were that perfect. “I was just ordering some food for the table. You want anything? I’m vegetarian, but—”
“Daisy likes meat,” Liam said abruptly, throwing an arm around Daisy’s shoulders. “We went to an Indian restaurant and she pounded back an entire plate of rogan josh like she hadn’t eaten in weeks. She attacked it like a piranha. I didn’t think a pound of meat could disappear that fast.”
Daisy pushed his arm away. “What’s gotten into you?”
Hunter’s gaze flicked from Liam to Daisy and back to Liam. “Hey, man. I don’t want to step on any toes. I heard you two were in some kind of fake relationship, but if it’s real . . .”
“It’s not,” Daisy said.
Liam leaned against the bar, arms folded across his chest. “We have a plan. Daisy is all about plans. And then we didn’t follow the plan. But now it seems the part of the plan where we can see other people is still on the table.” He looked over at Rainey. “Any hot tub parties going on tonight?”
“Ethan’s got a bead on something going on after the bar shuts down.”
“Great.” His gaze fixed on Daisy. “Tell him I’m in.”
* * *
• • •
“YOU’RE going to a hot tub party?” Daisy glared at him. “On our date?” She could just imagine him in a hot tub surrounded by women. They would be all over him like leeches.
“Our date was over when you invited the whole office along,” he said in a tone lined with frost.
“I think I’ll go wait for the food at the table.” Hunter turned from the bar. “Let you guys talk it out.”
Daisy watched Hunter cross the room. He was a nice guy. Definitely a ten in the looks department. Sociable, friendly, and fairly normal. He was an accountant, a trivia machine, and he liked art house films. They had a lot in common. She should have been over-the-moon thrilled that he was interested in her, and five weeks ago she would have been. But something was missing. Something that was staring her in the face.
“I invited them because we need people to see us out together,” she explained. Partially true. But the real reason was that she’d been worried she wouldn’t be able to keep her hands off Liam after a few drinks. And now, after discovering he’d set this date up on a quiz night and watching him glare at Hunter every time the dude even looked in her direction, it was clear she’d been right. It was taking all her effort not to throw her arms around him and drag him away.
“What good does it do if you tell them our relationship isn’t real?” Liam spluttered.
“I didn’t tell him. Mia did. She knew I liked him, and she heard that he’d asked about me . . .”
“Is that ‘like’ as in ‘like as a friend’?” His petulant tone made her lips quiver with a smile. “Or ‘like’ as in ‘I think I like him, too’?”
Daisy cupped his face between her hands. “Don’t do this,” she said softly. “We had rules, a plan.”
“I can’t help it. The dude is trying to get into your pants.” He covered her hand with his, gliding his fingers slowly over her skin. She felt his touch as a shimmer of heat through her body that coalesced into a throb between her thighs. It took only seconds, and yet she felt like they’d just spent hours between the sheets. She couldn’t move, couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe. She wanted the feeling to go on forever. She wanted to understand this curious connection and how that simple touch could set her body on fire.
“Maybe I wanted him in my pants.” She leaned closer, brushed her lips over his.
A soft growl rumbled in Liam’s chest. “Are they as pretty as your dress?”
“They would be if I were wearing some.” Rules be damned. She wanted him. Now. And it was clear he wanted her, too.
Liam raised an eyebrow. “I didn’t think you were that kind of woman.”
“The kind of woman who would come to a bar without her pants? Or the kind who would mention it?” Her pulse kicked up a notch when he slid his arm around her waist. “And why would you care about my pants since you’re going to a hot tub party?”
“I only care if they’re going to get in my way.” His free hand slid up her thigh and under her skirt.
“Get a room.” Rainey threw a set of keys on the counter. “Back office. You have fifteen minutes, and you’d better give me a good tip.”
Liam grabbed the keys and within moments they were in a dingy office with a metal desk, a worn chair, and a few half-empty shelves.
She didn’t know who moved first. One minute they were tumbling in the door, and the next she was in his arms. His mouth crashed down on hers, his hands sliding down her back to her ass, pulling her tightly against his hips. Her mouth opened for the kiss, fingers threading through his soft, thick hair.
Their tongues touched and electricity zipped through her body like a bolt of lightning, firing every nerve ending. Drunk on a cocktail of lust, alcohol, and the adrenaline rush of quiz night, that one touch made it impossible to pull away. Instead, she pulled him closer, pressing her breasts against his chest, shameless in her desire to feel every inch of his body against hers.
A groan rumbled from his chest, and he lifted her against him. Her legs wrapped around his waist and she rocked against the bulge beneath his jeans. The world faded away and she was lost in a sea of sensation—the taste of whiskey on his tongue, the rock hard muscles beneath her hands, the pure heat of his body against hers, the sound of their panting breaths, the glimpse of the Liam she remembered beneath the hooded eyes.
“Condom?”
“Got one.” Still holding her with one strong arm, he dug into his back pocket.
“Door?”
“Locked.”
“Belt?”
“I’ve run out of hands.” He released her and she jumped down and yanked on his belt.
“I hope you weren’t lying about wearing no pants.” He lifted her dress and groaned. “
Captain America? Couldn’t you have gone for someone less wholesome?”
“I wasn’t planning on sexing it up in the back room of a bar when I got dressed this morning.”
Liam leaned down and nuzzled her neck. “Anytime you’re with me, you should expect to be ravished. Come prepared. Leave the Avengers at home.”
“What happened to just once?” She yanked open his fly and slid her hand inside his jeans to stroke his shaft beneath his boxers.
Liam hissed in a breath and gently pulled her hand away. “Once at home. Once at the bar . . .” He dropped to his knees, his warm hands slipping under her dress to ease her underwear over her hips. With one hand offering her support, he helped her step out of them like the gentleman ravisher he was.
“We have ten minutes and thirty-seven seconds,” she whispered as he rolled on the condom.
“You’re sexy when you keep time in your head.” Still on his knees, he pressed her legs apart. “Open for me, my timekeeping seductress.”
“We don’t have . . .” Her words died away when she felt the heat of his mouth, the slow, sensual strokes of his tongue, the rub of his unshaven jaw against the soft skin of her inner thigh. Her pulse hammered and she sank her fingers into his scalp, holding him in place.
He took his time, stoking her desire with a steady seduction, licking, teasing, his tongue everywhere except where she needed it to go. She sank against the door, gave herself over to the long, liquid wave of pleasure, the firm grip of his hands on her thighs, the exquisite sensation of his tongue sliding over her most sensitive spot.
When he slid a thick finger deep inside her, and then another, she moaned, certain the ground was quaking beneath her feet. His mouth went from light and gentle to hot and demanding, and she rocked her hips against him, trying to soothe the wicked ache between her thighs.
She came in a rush, fisting his hair, her vision narrowing, breath lost to the exquisite pleasure of giving her body over to pure physical sensation.
Liam surged up as she rode the aftershocks of ecstasy. Wrapping his arms around her, he lifted her, bracing her back against the door. She locked her legs around his hips and crushed her mouth to his in a fevered kiss.
This was what she wanted, these wild sensations, frenzied need, liquid fire in her veins. She wanted to lose control, to stop thinking, to do nothing but feel.
He savaged her throat with hungry kisses, ground his hardened length against her slick, wet heat. Her pulse pounded in her ears, throbbed at the juncture of her thighs. She arched against him, rocked her hips, demanding his possession.
“Liam. Don’t tease.”
With a low, guttural groan, he shoved his boxers down and positioned himself at her entrance. “Say my name.”
She knew instantly what he wanted. Not his name. Their name. Their secret. “Humraaz,” she whispered. “My humraaz.”
With a satisfied growl, he pushed inside her, one hand under her ass, the other braced against the door beside her head.
“Oh!” Daisy tilted her hips, allowing him to sink deeper with every thrust. She was flying, high on being bad, on breaking the rules and loving it, on following Liam into the abyss and knowing she would survive.
“Ask me for it.” His brow furrowed, his face a mask of concentration as his body moved in a timeless rhythm. “I want to give you everything.”
“Fuck me.” Dirty words. Filthy words. But this time there were no better words in the English language to tell him what she wanted.
Sweat beaded his brow and he hammered into her, his warm breath rasping against her cheek. She came without warning, without realizing she’d tipped over the edge until she heard her own voice cry out, the sound echoing in the empty room.
Liam kept moving, pressed her against the door, his groans intensifying with his thrusts, body tensed and straining. He followed her over the edge, holding her tight, his shaft pulsing deep inside her.
He collapsed against her, his forehead resting against hers. “How’s our time?”
“I don’t know,” she said with wonder. “I wasn’t keeping count.”
His lips brushed lightly over her nose. He seemed in no hurry to release her, so she drew him closer, languid in his arms.
“I think I’m ready for that motorcycle ride.”
He looked up and grinned. “I can hardly wait.”
“Liam?”
“Yes?” He nuzzled her neck.
“You won’t be going to your hot tub party. I’m changing the rules. No dating is allowed. Your amended dating plan will be in your inbox by morning.”
“Daisy?” he whispered her name.
“Yes?”
“The only person I’d want to be in a hot tub with is you.”
• 25 •
Saturday, 8:00 A.M.
DAISY: Confirming Date #6. 9 a.m. Visit motorcycle shop to buy gear then motorcycle ride. Objective: ??
LIAM: Who gets up at 8 a.m. on a Saturday?
DAISY: I had to take Max out and I’m making you breakfast.
LIAM: Very noisy. Trying to sleep. Need to recover from night with sex-crazed fake fiancée.
DAISY: What’s our objective on this date?
LIAM: This is for us. Shared experience. Photographic evidence of you in leather.
DAISY: Confirming Date #6. 9 a.m. Visit motorcycle shop to buy gear then motorcycle ride. Objective: Shared experience, pictures of Daisy in leather.
LIAM: Did you seriously just do that?
DAISY: Don’t pretend to be surprised.
LIAM: Where’s my breakfast? Was supposed to be asleep. Now hungry.
DAISY: Stop complaining or you’ll have to make it yourself.
LIAM: Are you going to bring it to me in bed?
DAISY: It’s no longer a bed; it’s just a mattress.
LIAM: Are you going to bring it to me on the mattress?
DAISY: Yes.
LIAM: Naked?
DAISY: You want a naked breakfast?
LIAM: Is there any other kind?
* * *
• • •
HAMISH had been on the road again. Liam could tell as soon as he walked into McCallum’s Motorcycles; the familiar scents of diesel and leather were overpowered by the rich tang of barbecued ribs.
“You trying to drive the customers away?” He held the door for Daisy, and the bell tinkled behind them.
“I wish I could drive them away,” Hamish said. “I’ve got so much work I’ve barely got time to eat.”
“You clearly had time to ride. I thought the doctor told you to stay off the bike and eat healthy. Heart surgery is no joke.”
Well over six feet, with thick arms and a few extra pounds on his belly, his long brown hair streaked with gray, Hamish was the best motorcycle mechanic in the city and Liam’s first employer. He’d been approached by no less than five outlaw motorcycle clubs hoping to lure him away, but Hamish loved his shop—an old garage in the Theatre District—and his freedom. He also loved the gossip his biker customers shared about themselves and each other.
“Don’t give me a hard time about my food,” Hamish said. “Life isn’t worth living without ribs. I got my friend Lucas to bring me ribs the day after my surgery. Puked them all up and sent him out for more.” His steely blue eyes zeroed in on Daisy. “You gonna introduce me to your friend?”
“This is Daisy. My fiancée.”
Hamish wiped his hand on his Ride or Die T-shirt. “You ride, sweetheart?”
“No, but—”
“Didn’t think so.”
She gave an affronted sniff. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Means there’s some people who live to ride and some people who live to hide.” He lit a cigarette and took a slow, considered drag.
“It’s illegal to use those indoors,” Daisy said. �
�Smoking can kill.”
“But it’s fantastic after a morning ride along the coast, followed by a good fuck with a pretty girl, and an amazing three-course Korean barbecue.” He blew out a smoke ring, and Daisy coughed.
“Daisy is going to ride pillion on my bike,” Liam explained, before Hamish could share any more details of the story he was clearly dying to tell. “We came to get some gear.”
“So you finally got yourself an old lady.” Hamish took another puff.
“‘Old lady’!” Daisy huffed. “I’m not old.”
“That’s what we call the girl who sits behind her man.” Hamish wheezed out a cloud of smoke.
“What if the woman’s riding and the man’s on the back? What’s he called?”
“A pussy.” Hamish made a rumbling sound, a laugh that shook his belly.
“We’ll also need a pillion seat and pegs,” Liam said quickly. Hamish’s sense of humor wasn’t to everyone’s taste.
“You’ll need a grab bar and backrest, too, if you’re gonna take a newbie out on your XDiavel.” Hamish blew another smoke ring. “You’re lucky I’ve got some time. I can get it ready for you right away and you can be on the road in an hour.” He pointed to a rack at the back of the store. “Ladies’ gear is over there.”
Daisy dodged the drifting cloud. “I’ll go check it out.”
“So what’s the deal with her?” Hamish took another drag of his cigarette as he opened the small door that secured the cash area. “Seems a little uptight. You sure she’s the one?”
“It’s complicated.”
Hamish made an amused noise. “Nothing complicated about getting a hot piece of ass on the back of your bike. Still waters run deep, my friend.” They joined Daisy beside a wall of leather jackets. Hamish grabbed a metal hook and lifted a jacket from the top row.
“Try it on.” He handed the jacket to Daisy. “See if it fits. Elbow, shoulder, and back armor are built in. If you don’t like the leather look, you can still get good protection with a GORE-TEX jacket with integrated armor, but I wouldn’t recommend it. My friend Chains bought his old lady a GORE-TEX jacket for a bike trip to Montana. He took a curve too sharp and they went straight down the side of mountain into a ravine. Chains was wearing leather and got off with a couple of broken bones, but his old lady . . .” He sucked in a rattling breath. “Jacket shredded like paper and her skin was sheared right off her. She paid for the skin grafts out of the divorce money.”