Page 33 of I Can't Even

“If we stay here much longer I’m going to take you right here against the wall,” he said. “And that’s not how I pictured this going.”

Oh, my!

On shaky legs, I turned and led the way upstairs. When his hand ran from the small of my back down over the curve of my ass, I stumbled. Liam didn’t let me fall but rather caught me close, putting his arm around my back, pressing his body into my side as his warm palm cupped my hip, keeping me close, as if my hipbone had been shaped specifically for him to hold.

Every cell in my body was hyperaware of him. The hard roped muscles barely restrained by the form-fitting shirt, the scent of sunshine and sea that swirled around him, the feel of his hot gaze on the side of my face as he studied me. I was torn between stripping myself bare in front of him to offer him everything I had, and pushing out of his arms to run as far as fast as I could.

Stripping won.

We reached my room and I pushed the door open, leading the way inside. I supposed if I’d been in my rational mind or even marginally polite, I would have started a conversation or offered him a beverage, but I wasn’t rational or polite. In fact, I was barely in control of the crazy, lust-infused desire I felt for this man, who I had never, not once, stopped loving over the past nine years.

It was a truth I knew I couldn’t share with him or anyone.

Liam followed me inside and then kicked the door shut. He didn’t glance around the room or pause to assess whether I was a good housekeeper or not. No, his focus was solely on me. I didn’t turn on the light, preferring to stay in the shadows. Liam had no such reservations. He snapped on the bedside lamp, casting the room in a soft glow.

He started to walk toward me. I stood my ground right in front of the bed, refusing to back up or look away. I didn’t want him to know how overwhelmed I was by him, by us, by our dramatic past that slithered around us in the shadows just waiting for the first sign of weakness to raise havoc and mayhem between us. I refused to let it.

When he stopped in front of me, I reached for him. Without saying a word, I grabbed him by the shoulders and pulled him in. He didn’t fight me. When I twined my arms about his neck and put my mouth on his, he stood completely still as if committing my every move to memory.

I pressed myself into his chest while my arms moved over his shoulders and down, holding him close while I parted my lips and let my tongue trace the seam of his lips. I was gentle, teasing, tasting, drawing his lower lip into my mouth and then nipping it with my teeth. He groaned a low rumble in his throat and opened for me, letting me slowly make love to his mouth, mimicking with my tongue what I was hoping his body would do to mine.

He stood perfectly still while I drank him, wooing him until I felt the telltale hard press of his erection against my pelvis. Yes! I wanted to pump my fist, but I was too busy running my hands across his muscled back and then spreading my hands to cup his butt and bring him in closer.

I thought I was in control of this seduction. I thought I was the one making love to my ex-boyfriend. I thought wrong, so very wrong. He wrenched his mouth away from mine.

“Tell me what you want,” he demanded.

His fingers were at the hem of my dress. He lifted the skirt and put a hand on each of my thighs. His thumbs ran up along the inside. I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t think.

“Tell me,” Liam ordered. His hands stilled and I got the feeling that if I didn’t tell him what I wanted he was going to stop, which was not even comprehensible to me at this moment.

“This,” I said. “I want this.”

“Be specific, surfer girl,” he said. His voice was stern. The teenage boy I’d been so in love with had never spoken to me like that. I was alarmed that I found the command in his voice to be incredibly hot. What was wrong with me?

He started to move his hands away. I panicked. I wanted those hands to stay right on course.

“You,” I gasped. “I want you.”

He raised one eyebrow at me and I knew I’d said what he wanted to hear. His hands began to move again, slowly, tracing circles on my skin, back toward the ache that throbbed between my legs. He was so close, so deliciously close, I was sure if he didn’t put his hands on me soon I would die.

I pressed closer to him and dug my hands into his hair to angle his head just the way I liked it so I could fully claim his mouth with mine. And, oh, his fingers were close so close. Given the chance, I would beg, I would absolutely plead, to feel him press his thumb on my clit.

Finally, his fingers were within reach. One thumb slid over the hot, wet part of me that was positively throbbing but as I moaned in sweet relief, he yanked his hand away.

No! I wanted to cry out in protest but I couldn’t even form the word.

“Jesus, Jules, you...you’re not wearing...Christ, you’re bare assed,” he said.

At any other time, I would have taken great pleasure in his surprise but right now I had other needs, specifically, getting us both naked down under.

“Sorry, laundry issues,” I said, my voice breathy and bewildered. “I keep forgetting to run a load so...”

“Do. Not. Apologize.” He punctuated every word with a kiss and the heat in his gaze let me know just how much my inability to maintain my laundry turned him on. “I think you should always forget.”

His hands dove back under my dress and a slow smile curved his lips as his hands moved back up my legs to cup my bare backside. I barely had a chance to register the feel of his callused hands on my skin when he was lifting me and tossing me back onto the bed. He wasted no time but flipped the fabric up so that I was completely bare to him from the waist down.

He hissed a breath and when I would have sat up to pull him down with me, he put a large warm hand right below my breasts and held me still.

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