by Cindi Madsen
He gripped the fabric gathered under my breasts and pulled it up and over my head.
There was the idea of being naked in front of Liam and then the reality. Sure, I’d strutted across a cage today, but this was up close, only one tiny triangle of fabric left, and while I wanted to feel bold, I felt naked in every possible way.
He owned so much of my heart already, and I had this second where I worried about how attached I’d be after this and about what would happen when I went back to Denver. I had a hard enough time not comparing every guy to Liam already, and I could only imagine how much harder it would be after this.
His eyes locked on to mine, and he wound a strand of my hair around his finger. “I can see the wheels turning, but you’re not saying anything, which always worries me.”
“Maybe I’m quiet during sex. Not even I’d know.”
He cracked a smile. “It’s me. Which means if you don’t like something or you want to try anything, all you have to do is say so.” A reverent expression overtook his features as his hand drifted down between my breasts and over my belly button. Mischief edged in as he trailed his fingers back and forth over the waistband of my thong. “Besides, if you’re quiet, I’m not doing my job.”
I had to lick my lips to help force out the words. “I want the kind of sex worth skipping wardrobe changes and food. But I realize that might take us a few tries to get right—we’ll have more than one try, won’t we?”
His hand stilled on my lower abdomen, the bottom of his palm so close to where I needed to be touched that I thought I might spontaneously combust. “One thing about me, I’m all about training and working until we get it right.”
“Even if we get it right the first time?”
“Well, then I’ve got to do it until it’s second nature. Until I know exactly what makes you whimper and how to make you scream my name.” He skated a knuckle down my center, and when I moaned, he increased the pressure.
“Liam…”
“Good start. Now, tell me exactly what you want.”
“I want you to touch me. I’m sick of having something in the way.”
He hooked his fingers in the tiny strings of my thong and tugged it down my legs and all the way off. In that moment, he didn’t shutter his emotions. I saw the awe on his face. The desire in his eyes. He dragged his fingers over me, spreading my wetness and circling my clit with his thumb, and it was so much better than anything I’d made do with that I knew it was going to ruin me. And I didn’t even care.
“Harder. Faster.”
He increased the pressure and speed, each intoxicating stroke sending me higher. “Fuck, Chelsea, I need to taste you.”
A few seconds ago I might’ve felt self-conscious, but the second he said it, white-hot desire overtook my body and had my back arching off the bed. “Mmm-hmm. Yeah, do that.”
He dropped to his knees and pushed my thighs apart, and then his mouth was on me. My head fell back against the pillows as I gripped the sheets in my hands. The tingles coursing through me multiplied at a rapid pace, growing stronger and stronger, until every inch of me ached for release.
“Liam,” I whispered. The combination of his scruff against my thighs as his soft lips and tongue sent wave after wave of bliss over me made my toes literally curl. “I’m so close. Whatever you’re doing is amazing—keep doing that.”
The tightly coiled tension burst, flooding my body with a euphoric, floating sensation. I got lost in the intoxicating abyss for a moment or two before Liam slowly, carefully brought me back down. Then my anchor stood up, still wearing way too many clothes.
He opened his mouth, and I said, “If you ask me if I’m sure one more time, I’m going to go insane.”
He huffed a laugh. “Man, you tell a girl to be assertive one time, and then you don’t even get a chance to talk.”
I raised an eyebrow, daring him to tell me I was wrong.
“Fine. You know me too well.”
“I do.” I sat up on my elbows and brazenly stared at the bulge behind his zipper. “Now, take off your pants before I come over there and do it for you.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
Liam
God, she was beautiful, her skin flushed, her red hair down around her shoulders, contrasting her pale skin. She looked completely sated, too, which made me feel a hundred feet tall.
“Didn’t we talk about your threats?” I asked. “They’re supposed to be scary, not motivational.”
She sat up, gripped the waistband of my pants, and pulled me to her. I was about to help her, but then I decided to just enjoy the show. With my pants a lot tighter than usual, it took her a couple tries to get the button undone, and I groaned in relief when she lowered the zipper and I sprang free of the tight fabric.
My eyes rolled to the back of my head as she cupped me, and I arched into her touch, a slave to her now. A slave to her always, honestly.
“Whoa,” she said when she tugged down my boxer briefs. “Like, I knew you’d be big, because everything about you is huge, but…whoa.” She wrinkled her nose. “Is that weird to say? Am I just supposed to admire it in silence?”
“Admire away,” I joked, then she wrapped her hand around my shaft and I forgot what I was saying, what my name was—basically everything but who she was.
“If I’m doing something wrong, just let me know.”
I groaned in reply, and she grinned, her confidence buoying back up and radiating through her. She stroked me until sparks danced across my vision, and I quickly gripped her wrist so the fun wouldn’t end sooner than either of us wanted it to.
“If we’re… We should…” Not that words usually came easy, but I’d completely lost the ability to form sentences, so instead I leaned over and kissed her, soaking in the skin-on-skin sensation for several long moments.
Chelsea scraped her fingernails down my back and rolled her tongue over mine. Then she arched against me, her damp heat gliding across my erection and annihilating every other thought or emotion besides the need to bury myself between her thighs and take her in every possible way.
I exhaled what little air I could summon and reminded myself that I couldn’t forget to take it slow and easy. I could still hardly believe she was a virgin, or that I was the one who got to be her first, and I’d be damned if I screwed that up.
I reached over her, opened the nightstand drawer, and retrieved a condom.
Her eyes lit up as she watched me roll it on, and seriously, how did I get so lucky to have her in my life?
I cupped her cheek and smoothed my thumb over her soft skin. “Okay, you need to talk to me now more than ever. Understand?”
Her chest rose and fell with a big breath, and then she nodded. “I…” Her eyes implored mine, and I paused, ready to abort if she changed her mind, as agonizing as it’d be. It’d be far worse knowing I hurt her in any way. “I’m glad it’s you. That’s all. I just wanted you to know that.”
“I’m glad it’s me, too,” I said, before realizing that sounded totally self-centered. “I mean, I’m glad you trust me, and you know I care about you, right?”
A beautiful smile spread across her face, and I swore I caught a flicker of relief. “I know.”
“Good.”
She ran her hands up my arms and settled them on my shoulders. “I’m ready.”
I positioned the head of my cock at her entrance, grunting at how wet she was. Torturously slowly, I eased inside her, just a few inches, and then I gave her body a second to adjust.
“I’m okay,” she said. “Keep going.”
A few more inches, and she was so fucking tight and it felt so fucking good that I had to work on reining in my control. A groan ripped from my throat as I slid the rest of the way in.
Chelsea bit her lip, exhaled a breath, and then placed her hand on the side of my face. For a moment we stayed like that, bodies and eyes locked together. One inch at a time, I lowered my lips to hers, kissing her as I began gently moving inside her. Only she had a different
idea. She arched her hips, sending me even deeper. “I’m not fragile. You won’t break me.”
“It’d kill me if I hurt you.”
“You won’t hurt me,” she assured me. “I… It feels good. So much better than I expected, especially for my first time.”
To make sure it stayed that way, I reached between us and circled her clit with my thumb, focusing on matching that rhythm to my strokes. Every few seconds, her body became more pliant, even as her breath hitched faster and faster.
And it hit me just how incredible this night was, from the fact that Chelsea trusted me to be her first and how perfectly we fit together to how we’d ended up here after all this time. I spent so much of my life worrying about the future, but I shoved thoughts of it far, far away where it couldn’t touch us, and I focused on how right this felt and how if I had the ability to stop time, I’d choose this moment so I could relive it again and again.
Her muscles coiled, her oncoming orgasm about to claim her, and I delved my tongue into her mouth, kissing her deeply as I amped up the speed and pressure of my thumb. She cried out my name, her walls clamping me tighter and sending me over the edge before I realized it was happening. It hit me hard, pleasure ripping through me as I tried to hold Chelsea to me and keep my movements as still as possible.
As soon as I managed to regain control of my body, I gently lowered her to the mattress and brushed the sweat-dampened strands of hair from her eyes. “You okay?”
“Mmm,” she said, her smile stretching ear to ear. “That was freaking amazing.”
Pride flooded me, and I fell to the side of her, finally giving myself permission to relax and catch my breath.
She headed to the bathroom to clean up, and I went in after she finished. But when I returned to my bed, she wasn’t lying there waiting for me. I frowned and stalked down the hall, still completely naked. I pushed her bedroom door open a few more feet and found her in her own bed, the covers pulled over her, a book in her hands—although I noticed she hadn’t opened it.
“What are you doing?” I asked.
She blinked up at me. “I didn’t know what we were, and we already live together, so I didn’t want to crowd you even more, and—”
I flung off her covers, grunting my displeasure at the T-shirt she’d already put on, then scooped her up and carried her back to my bedroom. Just as I was about to close the door, George showed up, meowing his dismay at being left behind.
Chelsea looked at me, and I was a goner.
“Fine. George can sleep in here, too. But he’d better stay on your side of the bed.”
“Of course,” she said, although we both knew George would do whatever the hell he wanted. Right now, all I cared about was having Chelsea next to me. I lowered her into a seated position on the bed and peeled off her T-shirt, leaving her in just a pair of panties—much better. Then I climbed in next to her and pulled her to my chest.
George leaped onto the bed and haughtily tilted his nose to the sky before cozying up to her other side. Chelsea ran her fingers up and down my arm, her scent invading my senses as my eyes drifted closed.
Mmm, I could get used to this. That brought me up short, those thoughts of the future I’d been keeping at bay rising up to take a bite out of my happiness. It couldn’t be like this, not really. Life would only get busier and more chaotic and yank us in different directions again. As much as it sucked, it was almost a relief our time together had an expiration date. It meant that we could hold on to the now without risking complications that’d come from a full-blown relationship.
In the end, that would probably be the thing that saved us.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chelsea
Try two in the kitchen wasn’t going much better than my disastrous attempt at dinner had. My first pancake was burned on the outside and raw and squishy in the middle, but I’d adjusted the temperature and the second one looked semi-edible.
Only then I noticed the bacon was rather black and quickly moved it off the burner, only for the hot grease to splatter my arm. “Ouch, dammit!”
This was probably why people usually wore more than their…guy friend’s T-shirt to cook in. This morning I’d woken up more refreshed than I had in weeks. I’d rolled over, looked at Liam, and thought, It was real. It actually happened.
The slight soreness added more proof, and for that reason, I reveled in it. Liam and I had sex and it was amazing and I can’t wait to do it again.
Liam stepped out of the hallway with George in his arms, and my cat had a begrudgingly accepting it but not exactly happy about it expression on his cute kitty face. “He was sleeping on my chest.”
“How dare he! That’s my place.”
A slow smile spread across Liam’s lips, sending warmth tumbling through me, but then his eyebrows ticked together as he scanned the mess of pans. “Cooking again?”
“I’m getting better.”
He set George on the counter and moved closer to study the black, beyond-crisp bacon. “I, uh, see that.”
I smacked his bare chest with the back of my hand, and he caught my wrist and spun me to face him. His gaze dipped, and that was all it took for my nipples to harden. Judging from the heat in his eyes, he’d definitely noticed. I licked my lips. “I borrowed your T-shirt.”
“I see that, too” he said, his voice husky. He slipped his hand up, under his shirt, and thumbed my nipple as he lowered his mouth to mine. The spatula hit the ground, but I didn’t bother worrying about that. I gripped the sides of his waist and threw myself into kissing him back.
He rested his forehead against mine. “Morning.”
“Morning. Admittedly, I worried you might shut down, or things might be weird or strained.”
“Let’s not do weird or strained. Ever.”
“I can get onboard with that.”
“Although, you making breakfast is kinda weird.”
“Hey, I’m trying to pay you back for so thoroughly taking care of me.” I turned to check on the pancake, but Liam’s lips hit my neck, and I momentarily forgot what I was doing.
“Are you sore?” he asked against my skin, the deep vibrations of his voice traveling down to my very center and tethering me to him.
“A little bit. It’s a good sore, though. Like when you work out at the gym and your muscles have to get used to it, but you know that it’s going to be easier and better each time.”
I felt him harden against my butt. “Just ignore him. I’m good with waiting, but he needs some time to get the message.”
I bent to pick up the spatula, and Liam groaned. I shot him a smile over my shoulder, then flipped the pancake onto the plate and frowned at the blackened underside. “That one’s your fault. You distracted me.”
“How much would I have to distract you to convince you to go out for breakfast?”
“I think dates are supposed to come before the sex.”
“Damn. I always get the order all messed up.” He wound his arms around my waist as he tucked his chin on my shoulder. “Let me take you out for breakfast.”
I surveyed the ruined food, and despite being practically starving, my stomach couldn’t even work up a growl. “You win. Let me go put on some clothes.”
“If you really think it’s necessary,” he said, sighing like it was a shame, and I laughed.
“I’m afraid that going out means pants. But don’t worry…” I twisted my head so I could kiss his cheek, and then added an exaggerated eyebrow waggle. “Eventually we’ll be back in.”
…
Liam and I had one of those magical days that was just ours. We went to breakfast and walked along the beach, watched a movie, ordered dinner in, and then changed into pajamas—I opted for his T-shirt again—and cuddled as we watched TV. As the sun dipped lower in the sky, I shot it a disgruntled glare through the patio doors, as if it would care. I knew the day had to end, but that didn’t prevent me from wanting to stop it somehow.
As soon as tomorrow came along, life would cro
wd in, other things would get in the way, and then our carefree day would turn into a distant memory. A pleasant one I’d never forget, but still.
Guess I better make the best of every single minute, then.
I shifted positions, moving to straddle Liam’s lap and seek out his mouth with mine.
His hands came up on my sides, his fingers digging into my hips, and he groaned as I sank farther onto his lap.
“I figured there’s one more thing we need to do to make sure this is the perfect day,” I whispered.
Liam drove his fingers into my hair and used his grip to tilt back my head. He pressed his lips to the spot on my neck where my pulse beat like crazy. As he licked and sucked, my pulse skyrocketed to whatever the step past crazy was. Erratic. Hypnotic. Addictive. All of the above.
I rocked against him, glad for the thin fabric of his sweats as opposed to the jeans he had been wearing earlier, and he grazed his teeth across my sensitive flesh.
But just as quickly as our make-out session started, he was suddenly pulling away, the strong hands on my hips holding me a few inches from where I wanted to be.
Where I needed to be.
A whimper escaped, and I stuck my lips out in a pout.
He remained unaffected. Well, not completely unaffected. I could feel his hard length against my thigh, and if I could just drop another inch or two down, life would be good again.
His vise grip tightened and he arched an eyebrow.
I wrapped my hands around his wrists and traced the tightly corded muscles and tendons in his arms. “Just so you know, when I said there was one more thing we needed to do to make this the perfect day, torturing me wasn’t what I had in mind.”
“I’m plenty tortured.” His words came out short and clipped, adding proof to his claim.
“All you have to do is let go, and then neither of us has to be.” I twisted a strand of hair around my finger and went overboard on the ditzy eye-batting. “Unless you’re into that. I’m open to experimenting.”
