Page 78 of Fix Them Up
Our lips met, and I gasped at the contact. Liam’s hands were back in my hair. It was hard and fast. Liam’s tongue stroking mine. Memories of Liam’s head between my legs resurfaced, as they had every moment since.
Then, he was gone.
‘Sorry,’ Liam said, his forehead against mine. ‘I’ve wanted to do that for three days.’
‘You should have texted me.’
Liam winced. ‘Abigail –’
‘Yeah, it’s weird,’ I admitted.
‘She’s back at Yas’s tonight.’ He winced. ‘I don’t want it to come across like I want her out –’
‘I didn’t think that, Liam.’
‘She is my priority. Always.’ Liam’s eyes flicked to me, serious. ‘I just want to say that upfront. She will always be my priority.’
My throat thickened. God, that was such a lovely thing to say. I knew the bar was on the floor when it came to fathers. They just picked their kids up, and it had everyone swooning. But it didn’t mean it wasn’t lovely to hear from Liam’s mouth. His expression was serious, like he was ready to jump into action for Abigail, no matter what. I knew from experience how lucky Abigail was to have a dad like that. I’d been without one.
‘I know, Liam. I wouldn’t expect anything less.’
He nodded. ‘Come on.’ Liam smirked. ‘I need to get through a day without thinking of that mouth.’ I snorted, and Liam’s eyebrows shot up. ‘I’m not joking. I’ve got a serious case of blue balls.’
‘Such a baby.’ I shook my head. I leaned across the console, grabbing a fistful of his soft hair. ‘If you get through today, maybe I’ll come around tonight and –’
‘Careful how you finish that sentence,’ Liam said, his eyes burning.
I leaned closer and whispered, ‘I’ll get on my knees and use my mouth.’
Liam closed his eyes and groaned; the noise shot straight to my core.
Liam shook his head, and a grin overtook him. ‘You don’t know what you just started.’
*
With the first fix on the electrics and plumbing completed, with my cute new antique bronze switches hanging off the walls, Liam enlisted Danny, a plasterer. Danny was in his mid-thirties, with a stocky build, a moustache, and a mullet. His strange blend of New Zealand and Mancunian accents made me want to smile. As Danny set up his radio, Liam got a call to pick up the bathroom materials, leaving me twiddling my thumbs. I paced from room to room, energy humming around my brain and legs.
I bit my lip.
God, I hated having nothing to do.
I poked my head around to see Danny drilling the plasterboard into the walls.
An idea hit: a cartoon lightbulb above my head.
‘Danny,’ I said, my voice going sing-song.
Danny raised an eyebrow when I asked him. But, like most people being asked about their skills, he enjoyed teaching me and gained enthusiasm with each question I threw at him. He taught me how to fix the plasterboard, mix the plaster mixture with a power stir and then apply a thin coat of plaster over the joints. As we chatted away, I learnt that Danny moved from New Zealandfive years ago and had lived all over the UK. He settled in Manchester because he liked the city and had supported Manchester United from afar since he was a kid.
He raised his bushy eyebrows. ‘Liam mentioned you were from the Big Smoke. Are you liking it here?’
‘Yes,’ I said, and I realised I was telling the truth. ‘Even if it’s a bit mad here.’
‘It’s barmy.’ Danny grinned. ‘But I wouldn’t live anywhere else.’ He arched an eyebrow at me. ‘London is mad expensive.’
I nodded. ‘It is.’
‘And everyone is fucking rude.’
