Cassie sat at the desk in her small apartment, working on her book. When her phone buzzed, she ignored it. She and Liam had another night of no-holds-barred sex, and she was doing her level best to remember every sensation to get it down. At some point, she’d fallen asleep in the pub.
Hours later she’d awakened having to pee, and when she came back he was looking at her with that grin of his, and the next thing she knew he was balls deep inside her and she’d never felt so good in her life.
That was four hours ago. When he’d fallen asleep, she snuck out to write. It was seven a.m. and she paused long enough to stretch. Her phone dinged again.
Yawning, she glanced at the message.
You left my bed again. Do I have to tie you to it to get you to stay?
She laughed. That he was miffed with her kind of made her morning. Never in her life had she been a part of something so intense and, well, wonderful. After a few weeks with Liam, there was not an inch of her body that he hadn’t worshipped.
It had been hands down the time of her life. She dreaded the day when the other shoe might drop. It was why she left. She didn’t want him to get tired of her. At least, not yet. She still had a hundred pages to write.
That’s not why you’re worried.
Ugh.
She was so not going there. This was a temporary bit of fun. One to put in the memory book of what would probably be one of the best sexual experiences of her life.
Pursing her lips, she typed back. I don’t know. I might like it more than you think. At least in theory. She hit send. Would she? The idea of being tied up had never appealed to her before, but she was into exploring just about anything with Liam.
Fuck. You need to come back now. I need to test that theory.
She laughed again. I’m busy and you have to work.
She needed to sleep. And then she planned on writing all night. Though she’d promised she wouldn’t see him last night because her body needed a break, being in his arms was the balm to the family yuck she’d dealt with.
Two things: she really did want to keep him, well, wanting. And sleep. Dear heaven, she needed a good eight hours altogether.
But she wouldn’t trade what they’d been doing for anything.
Besides, absence made the heart grow fonder, right?
Cliché much?
I get off work early. Laird’s helping out more. Let’s go on a date tonight.
Crap. Was she the sort of woman who dropped everything to do what a guy wanted? But he’d taken the night off, hoping to spend it with her.
That was sweet, considering he worked all the time.
Planning on writing tonight. What did you have in mind?
Her phone rang. It was him.
She answered. “Hey.”
“Well…if we need to stay in, I’ll feed you, then you can write. When you’re ready to take a break, I’ll fuck that sweet cunt of yours until you beg me to stop. I might bring a few ties and we’ll try something new together. How about that?”
She swallowed hard before she could speak, her thong already wet. Why did his dirty talk affect her body this way? It was unnerving.
“So, you’ve never tied anyone up?”
“No.” His voice was husky. “And for the record, my hand is on my cock right now. You’ve got me so hard, I’m about to blow my wad right here in the office.”
She laughed, and at the same time, her hand slid down to touch the wet heat between her legs. “I’m fucking myself with my fingers while you talk. In case you’re interested in what’s happening here. It’s making it hard to write.”
He groaned. “Fuck, woman. Are you really going to make me wait all day?”
“Yes,” she said, pulling her fingers away. “I’ll stop and so will you. Anticipation is a good thing, right?”
“I’ve never been particularly patient, luv.”
Luv, with that Irish lilt. God, all her girly bits just melted. “For me. Stop touching yourself, and I promise you can fuck me any way you want.”
“Are your fingers still in that tight cunt of yours?”
Shit. They are now.
“Yes.”
“I don’t want you to wait. I want to hear you come right now. Rub that tight nub of yours. And slide three fingers in. Imagine it’s my hard cock slamming into you, luv.”
Cassie did as she was told. Never in her life had masturbating been so hot, and funny how she didn’t feel the soreness she had before. She moved to the couch so she could hoist one leg up on the back of it and then put Liam on speaker. “I’m doing it,” she said.
“Fuck,” he said. “Not touching my cock right now is impossible. Let me lock the door.”
She laughed. “You touching yourself, Liam?”
“Fuck yes, so fast and hard I’m gonna burn my bloody cock off.”
That she had that much power over him made her sex clench. “I’m so close,” she said, moaning.
“Fuck, luv. You sound so hot. I need to be inside you right now.”
That did sound like a very good idea. “Think about me sucking you off. You know how much you love my mouth.” Hell, she felt so bold. Never in her life had she talked like this, and certainly had never had phone sex.
What was that about taking a break? Was she nuts?
“Fuck, yes. You’re the best fucking cock-sucker ever.”
They laughed. “You know what I fucking mean.”
She did. “Liaaammm. Ohhhhh,” she cried out, and her sex clenched, and the bliss of the orgasm burst through her. Body shaking, it was several seconds before she remembered he was on the phone.
“Just a minute,” Liam yelled.
Was he talking to her?
“Bloody hell, I’ve come all over the fucking place and my fucking brother is at the door.”
She laughed so hard her body convulsed.
“Wench, I’m going to make you pay for that.”
“God, I hope so.”
Nine hours later, there was a knock on her door. When she peeked through the peephole, she saw nothing but grocery bags. Then Liam’s face came into view. “Dinner,” he said through the door.
She’d spent the last two hours cleaning her apartment. Making sure that he’d have no idea of just what a slob she could be. There wasn’t food left out or anything, but she hated doing laundry and there were usually piles of clothes and books.
While she shouldn’t want to impress him, she did. This was the first time for him to come to her place. She’d dressed in leggings and a red sweater and even thrown on some lip gloss and mascara.
Not that she was worried what he would think. It didn’t matter, right? She was using him for sex research, and he was getting his jollies off her body. It was a win-win.
As she opened the door, he leaned over the bags and kissed her. Backing her against the door, his beautiful assault on her mouth continued.
Fuck. I missed him.
It had only been a few hours. She was headed into dangerous territory with this guy.
“I’m making you stir-fry,” he said. “Since I wasn’t sure you had a wok, I brought my own.”
“Of course you did.” On top of everything else, he could cook like a demon. He really would make someone a great husband someday.
Regret with a side of shame boiled in her belly like a two-day old street taco.
Soon, she’d have to tell him the truth. For now, she’d enjoy his company and his food.
He stepped away, toward her tiny kitchen. It was nothing like his rooftop bachelor pad, which looked like something out of the cool guy’s guide to Pottery Barn. Her place, a tiny one-bedroom, was filled with bright colors. A mish-mash of furniture she’d inherited from her family.
Crap. When she did tell him who her parents were, he’d never speak to her again. Even if all of this had been just for fun.
But first, dinner.
“I’ve brought everything I needed, and I’ll figure out your stove. You go work,” he said. “I’ve already prepped most of
it, so it won’t take long.”
“Are you sure I can’t help?”
He nodded. “I want you to write.”
That he was so supportive—she didn’t know what to do with that. Her family had given her a hard time for so long, it was strange to be with someone who believed in her.
“Cool. Thanks.”
If she said anything else, she’d embarrass them both, so she did what he asked. At least, she tried. After opening the laptop, she found it difficult to concentrate. There’s a man in my kitchen, making my dinner.
Yes, the universe had taken a weird and wonderful turn. One she wasn’t going to think about too much. She’d decided earlier in the day to ride this crazy train until the bitter end. And it would be tough when it was over. As much as she liked to tell herself this was just a bit a fun, after a short time she was already invested.
Damn. Yep. She’d fallen in hard lust with the sexy Irishman.
Talk about adding conflict to her story. When she glanced up, she found him watching her, and she smiled nervously.
“I can see the wheels turning, but I have a feeling you aren’t writing.”
She put the laptop down. “Turns out you’re a big distraction.”
He frowned. “Do you need me to leave?”
Shaking her head, she moved toward him but sat down on a stool at the small kitchen bar. “No. I need to eat. And watching you is giving me inspiration for my book. Besides, does anyone ever send a man away if he’s cooking for them?”
He chuckled and turned back to the wok. Never had someone been sexier throwing vegetables into a pot than this man in her kitchen. He could cook and sing. Man, could he sing.
He hadn’t been kidding about that, but he’d withdrawn so fast when she asked about it.
“Did your mom teach you how to cook?”
“She did, but so did my Da and my Gran. Everyone in my family cooks, even Finn. Though he doesn’t find the joy in it like the rest of us do.”
“I—uh…can cook a little, too, but not like you,” she said, catching herself just in time. She could do more than just “cook a little,” but if she told him that, he might ask where she learned it. She went with something safe. “I’m good with eggs and pancakes. Pretty much anything in the breakfast food group. And it is a food group for me. I’d eat breakfast for every meal if I could.”
“Well, then, maybe you can make me pancakes someday.” He turned and pulled a bottle of Jameson out of the bag he’d brought with him. Then he handed it to her.
“I brought you a little house-warming gift, luv.”
Every time he said that word, her lower body responded. “You shouldn’t have, but thanks,” she said. Then she went to the small bar that was by her front door and acted as a catch-all for keys and such. The lower shelves of the glass cart held bottles of whiskey and some mismatched bar glasses. She picked two that sort of looked alike and poured two fingers each.
Then she carried them back to the bar. He wiped his hands on a kitchen towel that he must have brought with him. She had some, but since she usually got takeout from her parents’ restaurant, she seldom cooked or washed dishes.
They clinked glasses.
“Salud,” he said.
“Is there anything tastier than a sip of great whiskey?”
“I can think of one thing.” His hooded eyes sent her body into overdrive. This man was dangerous to her psyche in so many ways. It was not an exaggeration to call him a sex god.
It wasn’t fair. And how the hell could his ex have cheated on him?
She cleared her throat. “So what’s for dinner?”
“Simple chicken stir-fry.” He turned away and tossed something else into the wok.
Those strong biceps of his pulled against his sweater. Yep. Her insides just went all googly again. It was all so domestic, and she sort of loved it.
Maybe a little too much.
“I, uh, can’t sleep with you tonight.”
His shoulders tensed, and then she realized he was laughing.
“What?” she asked. She’d been so embarrassed those words had come out of her mouth.
“We’re just having dinner, but I like that your mind went there,” he said. “I know you have to work. I just want to spend time with you.”
Well. Hell.
“It’s not just work. My body needs a break. My—I’m sore.” Could this be any more embarrassing?
He plated the food and turned the fire under the wok off. “I’m sorry if I hurt you last night.”
When he faced her, his eyebrows were drawn together with worry.
She waved a hand. “No. Last night was amazing. It’s always incredible with you. I’m not used to all this—uh—sex. When we did that thing on the phone, it felt good, but then right after…I think I need a night or two off.”
He laughed and the tension dissipated from the room. “I am a bit insatiable with you. Can’t seem to get enough, but don’t be shy. If you need a break, tell me. I should have been looking after you better. We need to give you a good soak in the tub with some Epsom salts. That stuff is magic for sore muscles and such.”
Couldn’t get enough of her…yep, that one was going to stay with her for lifetime. He put the plates down on the small bar and then gathered her into his arms and kissed her, one so tender she sighed against him.
“I’m a grown woman and can look after myself. I’ve just never—I’m not as experienced as you. It’s like working out. I think I have to get used to a certain level or something. Crap. For a writer, I’m having a hard time explaining this. Why does that happen when I’m around you?”
“I’ve worn your pussy out.” He said it with a grin.
She snorted. “Yes. At least, temporarily.”
When he lifted his head, he brushed her curls off her face and behind her ear. “I need to know you’re okay.”
His heart beat through his sweater and into her hands. “I am. I promise. I just need a night away from the sexy fun. I didn’t want to disappoint you,” she admitted.
He shook his head. “You couldn’t. And I’m all right just holding you in my arms until we fall asleep, especially if it means you’ll stay the night. I’d like to wake up next to you just once.”
She gave a fake grunt. “So needy, Liam.”
“Only with you, luv.”
Then he kissed her again, the fire burning through her so fast at his tenderness she worried it might consume them. “We should eat,” he said against her lips, “while it’s still hot.”
She couldn’t manage much more than a smile, so she nodded.
The food, like everything he’d made her, was amazing.
They didn’t talk much during the meal, and she expected him to leave right after. Surprisingly, he pulled a laptop out of his backpack and started working on something. She sat down at her desk and wrote.
Every once in a while, she’d feel him watching her, but she didn’t turn around.
Starting the book in a bar seemed a bit cliché, but then she smiled. It wasn’t if the chemistry was off the charts and your partner was the wittiest when it came to banter. Once she’d cleaned that up, she went back to the last hundred pages she had left.
The words flowed out as they worked in companionable silence. A few hours later, she heard him in the kitchen again. She’d been so lost in her book she hadn’t heard him move.
Then he put a plate of chocolate strawberries on her desk, along with a cup of tea. “I didn’t want to interrupt, just thought I should keep you fed.”
She grabbed his hands in hers. “Thank you.” Kissing his knuckles, she stood. “I’m ready to take a break. Want to share these with me?”
She picked up the plate of berries and her cup and moved them to the coffee table, which was her grandma’s old trunk with a piece of glass set over it.
They sat on the couch. “You don’t have to stay,” she said. “This has to be boring. It’s Friday night. I’m sure you have better things to do.”
He leaned
forward and picked up a strawberry. “Why do you do that?”
Darn this man smelled so good. “What?”
“Assume that you aren’t interesting. It isn’t true, you know. You’re the most fascinating woman I’ve ever met. Your intelligence and wit, the way you give yourself so freely when we’re together. I’m just curious who did a number on you. I’ll take them out in the alley and knock the shite out of them for you.”
She chuckled. “I’m not really into violence, though I might consider it with my ex.” She pursed her lips. “Nah. He’s not really worth our time. The majority of it is a bit closer to home. In my family, if they don’t make you cry over the dinner table, you aren’t loved. But there’s love. It’s just they totally do not get what I do, so I have to hide the writing part of my life from them. And they never see me beyond the chubby twelve-year-old I was back in the day. It’s weird. Nothing—not the way I look or my occupation—matters. Not that I’ve told them about the books. They just wouldn’t get it.”
“They should be proud,” he said.
This would be a great time to tell him the truth. She opened her mouth, and he popped a strawberry in there. Biting off the chocolate-y fruity goodness, she swallowed.
“My background is kind of the same. We’re hard on each other, but there is love. Don’t tell my brother I said that. He’ll think he can get away with shite.”
She shook her head. “I think Finn is sweet. My brother—he’s protective. Dating, I’ve never really been able to take anyone around them. There’s the third degree, and then there’s my family. It’s like an inquisition or something. They see it as looking out for me, but it just scares them off. Though, in some cases, maybe that wasn’t such a bad thing.”
“Is this why you don’t talk about them? Do you go—”
Tell him. “Well, actually…”
His phone dinged and then rang.
He glanced down. “Sorry, I need to take this.”
“What’s up? Crap. Yep. On the way.”
“I’m so sorry,” he said to her as he grabbed his jacket and stuck his computer in his backpack. “Laird slipped and is on his way to the hospital. Finn thinks one of us should be there, and the bar is busy, so he can’t just close up.”
“Oh no. I hope Laird’s okay. Is there anything I can do?”
Bet Me to Stay Page 9
