by Dani René
“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.’
Emma
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 lying 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.
Once he’s plated some dinner, he walks over to the sofa and sits down next to me. He casts a glance at the television, which I had turned on since I thought I’d be dining alone. His dark hair is messy. He probably just pulled off his helmet. His jaw is dusted with a light stubble that contours his chiseled features and has me aching to run my hands over it.
“Is it okay?” I gesture to the plate. Hazel eyes pin me to the sofa as he slowly takes in my appearance.
“It’s incredible, Peach. Didn’t know you could cook. I may keep you around longer.” He offers me a cheeky wink, and my insides turn to molten lava. Why does he do that? Act like we’re dating or living together in one breath and then turn a cold shoulder in the next.
“Don’t want to mess up your chances at a one-night stand.” Dropping my feet to the plush white rug, I rise and walk to the kitchen. I can feel his gaze on me. It sears my skin and sends a rush over my body.
Suddenly, I feel him behind me, and when my plate hits the sink, I am spun around. Big hands grip my hips and the fire in his eyes scorches me as his body presses me into the counter. I can feel the ridge of his erection digging into my stomach. Fuck, I want to slap him and kiss him.
“Why do you always like to fuck with my head, Peach?” His voice is low and gravelly.
“What? I didn’t do anything.” His breathing is ragged and fans over my face, our lips inches apart. His heat is unbearable. His fingers press into my hips, holding me steady, but I feel delirious being so close to him and not being able to touch him. Or kiss him.
“This. Isn’t. Happening.” The harsh reminder of his rejection slices me open. Flaying me to his intense gaze. My heart constricts in my chest, and the lump in my throat chokes me. Placing both hands on his chest, I push him away, and he lets me.
“I didn’t ask to be here. I don’t fucking want you to do something you’ll clearly regret. So why don’t you take me to a fucking hotel. Because I can’t deal with this shit.” My voice raises to a screech. “You’re an asshole. Just leave me the fuck alone.”
I storm past him and he reaches for me. “Em—”I jerk away from his grasp and make my way to the bedroom. Once there, I tug on a skirt, grab my purse, and head into the hallway where I find car keys waiting for me. I expect him to stop me from leaving, but when he doesn’t, I walk out without a backward glance.
As soon as I am in the car, I let out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding. How can I be so hurt by someone who doesn’t give a shit about me? I need to get a hold of my feelings. Liam’s presence in my life isn’t going anywhere. We’re meant to spend the week together, though I don’t think I can. Once the anger boiling inside me is at a low simmer, I pull out of the garage and head down to Santa Monica. The beach will be quiet since it’s late, so I can just sit quietly and listen to the waves crashing.
There is no way I can let Tay know that I’m harboring such strong feelings for him. She warned me. She fucking told me. And here I am about to burst into tears because I didn’t listen to her.
Pulling into a parking spot, I turn off the engine and the tears that I’ve been holding back spill. I grab my purse and open the door. I need fresh air. Maybe a walk would do me good. Once the alarm on the car locks the doors, I make my way down to the pier. I was right; it’s quiet down here. There are a few couples walking along the beach, but other than that I am on my own. As usual.
At twenty-five, I didn’t think it would be possible to feel so alone. I have friends, my sister, but I know that the missing part of me is my heart. It’s empty. Since that fateful night in London, I’ve tried to fill it with meaningless flings, but it’s been pointless. There seems to be one man who’s been on my mind since we met six months ago. The only man I can’t have.
He’s so closed off to any feelings now that he pushes me away, and I know that there’s something more between us. He was so attentive and caring taking me out on a date before they left London. Even though it was one day, I felt his emotions. Perhaps that’s why it hurts. He let me in once, but somehow, since I landed in L.A., the walls have come up and there’s nothing there. Just the shell
of a man with too many women and not enough time. That thought stings.
The cool air is calming, and as the breeze picks up, a shiver runs over my body. “You shouldn’t be out here alone.” The deep timbre of a familiar voice has me pivoting. Even in the dark, his heated stare holds me hostage. There’s no one else on the pier, just me and him. He stalks toward me like a predator hunting his prey.
“Why do you care? Oh right, because I am your little sister. Isn’t that right, Liam?”
“Emma.” The warning in his tone is unmistakable.
“You may not know this, but I am a grown woman, and I can go wherever I want whenever I want.” My grip tightens on the strap of my bag, and the hold I have on the car keys turns my knuckles white.
We’re in a standoff, and the only thing stopping anything from happening is Liam. The wall that’s built around him is so high, I doubt I will ever be able to climb it. Let alone break it down. Do I just wait around for him? No, I deserve more.
“Do not talk to me like that. You’re under my care. I suggest you act like an adult if you want to be treated like one. Running out on me is not what a grown-up would do.”
Anger flares in my chest. If he were standing any closer, I would have slapped him. That was a dick thing to say. “Fuck you, Liam.”
“If I remember correctly, we already have.”
“Why do you have to be such an asshole? Do you get off on it? Do you enjoy hurting people who care about you?” My tirade stops when he closes the gap between us, his body caging me in between his arms and against the wooden beam of the pier.
When he leans in, my breath quickens and my pulse riots. Even though I’m enraged with him, I want to feel his lips on mine. If he kisses me, I know we’ll end up in his bed. There’s no doubt about that. Do I want that? To be another notch on his bedpost, again? Yes, for the life of me, as bad as it sounds, I want it. I want him. “Why are you being this way?” I ask quietly.
“I’m being this way to make you stop looking at me like that.” His growl is feral, and I want him between my legs, showing me exactly what an animal he can be. I am his prey, after all.
