by Dani René
“Liam, I never orgasm and tell.” I turn to the counter and find a plate with a sandwich and a mug of coffee. Focusing on that instead, I grab my lunch and slip into the stool. I didn’t realize how hungry I was until I sat down. Picking up the one half, I bring it to my lips and take a bite. It’s utter perfection. The cheese is melted, and the bread is toasted just the way I like.
“Never? Well, I don’t think you orgasmed in my shower. You’re pretty loud, that much I remember.” My gaze snaps up to his. His laugh echoes through the open-plan kitchen. Grabbing the kitchen towel, I can’t help chucking it at him. Embarrassment flames my cheeks, and my stomach comes alive with the butterflies.
“Stop being an ass.”
“Just saying, Peach. I remember you making sure the whole hotel knew my name in London.” Why is he talking about this? I’ve been annexed to the guest room. He clearly doesn’t want me. So why recall the time we spent together in London?
“Yeah, well that was a long time ago.” Six months, two weeks and about ten hours to be exact. Not that I was keeping track of the last time I had the most incredible orgasm of my life.
“It was. I was—” The phone buzzing interrupts him. With a quick swipe, he answers the phone and leaves me in the kitchen. “What’s up, doll?” The word rolls off his tongue like it’s second nature, and jealousy rears its ugly head. It’s my fault. I shouldn’t have gotten invested. His reputation precedes him, and I should have known better.
Concentrating on my lunch, I take another bite of the sandwich and finish it in a few bites. With a few long gulps, I finish the coffee, too. Grabbing the mug and plate, I make my way over to the sink. I am washing the cup when Liam rejoins me in the kitchen. He’s so quiet, I don’t notice him until I feel him behind me. His body is large, looming over me.
“Who was that?” I question, the words coming out as a whisper. He doesn’t respond right away, but I can feel his hot breath on my neck.
“Nobody.” He growls, but it’s not the sexy, deep one I love, it’s filled with frustration. I spin around and find his body inches from mine. He’s close. Too close.
“Nobody called ‘doll’?” I grip the edge of the sink behind me to keep from slapping him. Yes, I’m jealous. Should I be? Probably not, but that doesn’t stop the anger slithering through me.
“It’s an old friend.” He shakes his head as if trying to rid it of a memory, and I wonder what kind of ‘friend’ he’s talking about. He lifts his head and places a hand on either side of me, caging me in. “You want to do something fun, darling?” The change of subject is obvious I shouldn’t be asking questions I don’t want answers to . But his words are warm, and they wash over my skin like a soft blanket. Tingles race over my body. The tone of his voice is deep and rumbles like a sexy, purring engine, which has me clenching my thighs. Fuck, how can he disarm me so easily?
“Like what?” The words are a mere whisper, and the need in my voice has me cursing myself. He’s so close, I can practically taste him. My eyes fall on his toned upper body. The black T-shirt hugs his chest and shoulders like it was painted on. The man has the body of a god. Sculpted, taut, and ripped in all the right places. My mind briefly flits to the memory of my tongue dipping in those ridges, dancing across those planes. What I wouldn’t give to do that again.
His fingers reach up and lift my chin so that our eyes lock. He leans in, causing my breathing to hitch in my throat. This is the man who can make my knees wobble with a mere glance. “Anything you want.” His voice is gravelly, vibrating through him and into me.
The spark between us is a force to be reckoned with, electrifying the air. Every inch of my skin prickles in awareness. He is way too close, and he smells way too good.
“Liam...” His name on my lips is a plea, but am I begging him to come closer or to move away? Should I force the issue and ask him about doll? I fleetingly recall my sister’s advice and feel like I am already failing miserably at heeding her warning.
“I’m not supposed to do this, but I can’t help it.” His thumb swipes over my lower lip and my tongue darts out, following the path his touch ignited with heat.
He leans in closer, and his lips brush mine lightly. It’s so soft and so sweet that I can’t help reaching out and tangling my fingers in his soft hair and with a quick tug, his mouth is pressed against mine hungrily. He licks the seam of my lips, and I happily open to him, giving him a taste of me.
As soon as his tongue dances with mine, a growl vibrates in his chest. His body is pressed against mine. The sink behind me presses into my back, but all I feel is Liam Hayes.
He swallows my moans and steals my breath, using it as his own. Like he needs mine to survive. His grip on my hips sears the skin beneath the flimsy material of my top. Our bodies are so close, it’s as if we’ve become one person. Every soft inch of me yielding to every firm, ripped-as-hell muscle in his body. The feel of him has my core pulsing with need. The ache that I know only Liam could extinguish is alive and fighting its way through my body. But just as quickly as it began, he pulls away and spins on his heel, leaving me reeling from our heated kiss.
Fuck! I shouldn’t have kissed her, but God, she tastes so good. Sweet, delicate, and sinful. Slamming the bedroom door and inhaling a deep breath, I flop onto my bed and stare at the stark white ceiling. This is going to be the hardest fucking five days of my life. Why does the universe want to torture me? Why do I have to be near the one person I can’t have?
A soft knock sounds at my door. “Um, Liam? I am going to take a walk.” Her sweet voice filters through the door, and I jump up. In two long strides, I am at the door. When it swings open, the sight steals my breath. She’s changed into a pair of yoga pants, and a white tank top that hugs every curve of her luscious body. Her gorgeous tits are on display to my hungry gaze. Jesus fucking Christ!
“Where are you going? You don’t know the area. I’ll come with you.” When she shakes her head, I grind my teeth. I did this. “Emma, you’re not going anywhere alone. So either you get over it, or you—”
“Liam, just fucking leave it, okay? You’re not supposed to do this, remember?” she snaps, throwing my words from downstairs back in my face, and they cut me deep. Why am I such a dickhead? I take a step toward her, which has her stepping back, turning, and sprinting down the hallway. She heads into the guest room and shuts the door with a loud slam. I deserved that.
I take tentative steps toward her room and lift my hand to knock on the door. Her sniffles from the other side gut me. Inhaling a deep breath, I knock. It’s quiet for such a long while that I think she’s ignoring me. Then the door cracks, and big doe eyes peer up at me. “What?”
“Can we talk?” She stares at me, then nods. Stepping back and pulling the door wider, she allows me entry. As soon as I walk into the room, my senses are assaulted by her peach-scented perfume, lotion, whatever the fuck it is, and my dick throbs behind my zipper. A quick glance shows me she’s unpacked her two suitcases, but not into the closet. All her clothes are on the bed. My gaze falls on a pair of red lace panties, and I am now so fucking hard, I would give a steel pipe a run for its money. My desire to drive into her tight cunt is rendering me speechless.
“Talk, Liam. I don’t know what you have to say, but do it quickly. I want to unpack and go out.” Turning to face her, I take in the woman I’m desparate to touch. She’s so beautiful, so perfect, but I’m no good for her. There’s no way I can give her a forever. I can’t promise her that I am a good person, because I’m not.
“Peach, I’m trying to do the right thing here. I need you to understand that I’m not right for you. We had an incredible time together, but you deserve someone decent.”
Her eyes narrow and an adorable crinkle forms in the center of her brow. Like she can see right through my bullshit. “Yeah, you mean someone who isn’t going to fuck the next random chick who catches his eye?” Her question grates through me. Lifting my gaze to meet hers, I see the determination in her beautiful chocolate eyes. She�
��s hardened herself to me, and it hurts, but it’s good.
“Yes.” There’s nothing more to say. Her answering nod confirms she understands where we stand. Then she crosses her arms in front of her, and her tits push up in the tiny tank top. I’m sure I am going to come in my fucking jeans if I don’t get away from her in the next two seconds.
“Fine. Great talk. You can leave now.” She’s kicking me out of my own house? Well, room? Fuck, I would love to punish her peachy little ass right now. I head to the door but glance back at her. There’s a hardness to her stance, but her trembling hands don’t escape my notice. She’s as affected by me as I am by her. Without another word, I walk out, leaving her fuming. It’s better she hate me than want me. It will make it easier for her to get over whatever we had.
Back in my bedroom, I grab my phone and type out a message to someone I know will take the edge off. I shouldn’t, but I can’t stop. I want Emma, and I can’t have her. The reply comes instantly. Grabbing my jacket and helmet, I make my way out to the living room. The door of the guest room is shut, so I leave a note on the table with the keys to my car.
In no time, I’m on the highway heading toward a place I haven’t been to in a while. To a woman I have on speed dial if I need her.
When I pull up to the apartment, her door opens. She’s standing there in a pair of yoga pants that mold to her beautiful, toned thighs. Her tiny scrap of a top doesn’t leave much to the imagination. The same outfit on the girl I just walked out on had me hardening in seconds, but she’s not Emma.
“Liam Hayes, it’s been a long time. Come in.” Her apartment is luxurious. It’s obvious a woman lives here. Everything is pretty.
“It has been, darling.”
“To what do I owe the pleasure? Is it the girl from London you told me about?”
“Mo, can we not talk about that?” Monique is a longtime friend of over a decade. She’s been around the block with me, knows my deepest, darkest demons, and she is still here. The only thing I give her now is my secrets. I haven’t fucked her in a long time. But that doesn’t stop her from trying.
She’s pulled me—no, dragged me—from the gutter more times than I can count. Almost as many times as my brother and Ryan have.
“She’s doing a number on you, bad boy,” she states with a hand propped on her hip. I follow her into the spacious living room. That black leather sofa has seen more action than my whole apartment. I met Monique when she was a stripper. She was in school and trying to put herself through college. What a cliché life can be. The filthy, bad boy rock star and the equally-as-bad stripper.
“I need her but I can’t have her.” The growl in my voice has a shiver running over her body. When I glance at her, there’s nothing about her that reminds me of Emma. There’s no reason for me to even think about her, because when I do, that foreign feeling—that ache in my chest—becomes unbearable.
“Do you want to fuck me? Pretend I’m her?” She pushes down her yoga pants, over her curvy thighs, revealing her bare flesh that’s begging for me. Aching. Dripping. Needing. She’s always ready.
I turn away and look at the beach in the distance. “You love this, don’t you? Is that why you stick around?” I gesture between us. She’s standing there half-naked, but I feel nothing.
I know my words cut her, hurt her, but I can’t bring myself to take them back. I don’t allow any emotion to play a role in my life. And that’s okay by me, because that means I don’t get hurt.
“Mo, answer me. You of all people know I can’t give someone forever. Fucking answer me!” I am shaking with anger.
“Yes, yes, Liam. That’s why I stick around.” She pulls her pants up and when she’s fully dressed, she flops onto the sofa.
I don’t want this.
I want what my brother has.
I want love.
The realization hits me so deep that my breathing stops. When Monique turns to me, her face falls. “Are you in love with her?” It’s too soon. We barely know each other. She’s someone I could love, but I know fuck all on the how part. “Stop telling yourself you don’t. You’re too fucking scared to feel anything because you wonder if you’ll turn out like your father. I know that’s the reason. You can’t lie to me. I’m here to tell you that you won’t. You’re stronger.”
Pushing up from her sofa, she leaves me in her living room, stunned and deafened by my heartbeat hammering in my ears. I lean back and close my eyes. My father, the fuck-up.
It’s been a while since I thought about him, but the fear of turning out like him is always there. Just beneath the surface. Slowly beating away at me. Chipping away at the tiny cracks that I made when I was young and foolish.
I know if it weren’t for my brother, I would probably be six feet under by now. And if it weren’t for Mo, I would be living in a trailer. And as for Ryan, fuck, he’s put up with so much shit from me. I’m lucky. I know that. But deep down, I am still empty. I am still a shell of a man.
Desolate.
Cold.
Heartless.
“Do you want to go to a meeting? Maybe we should. I will go with you. Drink this.” She hands me a glass of water. I peer up and find her kind, emerald eyes watching me. Waiting for my reaction.
“Thanks.” Grabbing the water, I gulp it down in two long pulls. “I almost had a beer.”
“One beer wouldn’t have killed you. Stop being such a pussy. You’re strong. You’ve been through more than most people endure in their entire lifetime. If this girl means so much to you already, then why don’t you take a chance with her?”
“My brother asked me to steer clear of her. I’m still in recovery. I can’t be in a relationship.” I cut a glance to her and find her staring at the ocean, which is just a block away from her apartment. You can see water for miles out here. That’s something I love about my home—I can sit and watch the waves crashing on the shore for hours.
“I don’t believe in that shit. We both stopped at the same time. If you’re strong enough to walk away from a drink, then you’re just like a regular man.”
I chuckle, but it’s humorless. “Can I ever be a regular man?” The question is more for myself, but I don’t know if I can ever answer that. Setting the glass down, I turn to her. She’s got her gaze trained on me, watching my every move.
“Yes, you are. Don’t you see that? You need to stop living in your past. What you did then isn’t what you’re doing now. Everyone has done shit in their lives—it’s what you’re doing in the present and what you want in your future.” Her soft sigh makes me crumble. “I’m sorry about earlier. You’ve always come to me for… release.”
“It’s fine. Appreciate you for putting up with me being a dick.” There’s nothing more I want than to have a normal life. To have a wife, kids, maybe even a dog. My mother would be so proud. I can’t help but chuckle at that.
“What?”
“Just thinking. Like to have a dog one day.” When I look back at Mo, she’s staring at me like I’ve gone insane. Maybe I have. “My mother and her dogs,” I say by way of explanation.
“Ah yes, the dogs.” Since my mother is an advocate for the animal shelters in LA, we always tease her and tell her she’s going to end up with a farmyard of animals. Which I know she’d be fine with. “Liam, do you trust me?”
I nod, meeting her intense stare, and I know I am in for a lecture.
“You’re going to be okay. Being with someone... You never know. She might be the one who cracks the whip and sets you straight. The one who will make you see sense, and you’ll end up putting a ring on it.” She sings those last few words in tune with the song and that has me barking out a laugh.
Part of me would love just that, but before I do anything, I need to make sure I’m there. That I have the strength. I decide to take this week and test my strength in being ‘normal.’
Liam Hayes is such an asshole. I stare at the note he left on the table. Probably gone out to fuck some random woman. That’s what he does. I’d by ly
ing if I said it didn’t hurt. When he rejected me earlier, it took all my strength not to break down in tears, but I refuse to give him that satisfaction.
Making my way into the kitchen, I open the fridge and find ingredients for a bolognaise. I am starving again, so I start the sauce and put the pasta on to boil. Turning on some music, I notch up the volume until all I hear is Callum Hayes singing about Love & Fire. It’s a song he wrote for Tayla when they broke up. It’s so beautiful. His love for her bleeds through the lyrics.
Completely. Unbidden. Irrevocably.
I want that for myself.
Lifting the pot from the heat, I drain the water and scoop the pasta into a large bowl. I add in the tomato and coriander sauce. The aroma fills the kitchen and ultimately the living room, as well.
As soon as I am comfortable on the plush sofa, the door flies open and Liam stalks in. The look on his face is indifferent. His eyes flit between the kitchen and me. I didn’t realize he’d be back so soon, so I’m only wearing an old college T-shirt and a pair of panties. My bare legs are curled under me on the sofa.
“You cooked.” It isn’t a question, more like an accusation. I nod, my throat suddenly thick with fear that I have pushed my houseguest boundaries too far. Our eyes lock in what can only be described as a heated stare-down. There’s an undeniable emotion in his gaze, but it disappears instantly. “Thanks.” He turns and walks into the kitchen, pulling out a plate and cutlery. How the fuck can he walk in here and act like nothing is wrong?
I watch him shift around the empty space, the muscles in his shirt bulging and tightening as he moves. He isn’t huge, as in bulky, but there is definition in his arms and shoulders that reminds me of what those muscles looked like towering over me. God, this is ridiculous. I’m supposed to be angry with him. Narrowing my eyes, I shoot daggers his way, but of course, he doesn’t notice because he’s not even looking at me.
