Page 22 of Liam

One Week Later

Why did I agree to go fishing with Liam? I regret that decision as I glare at the clock sitting on the nightstand; it reads 4:00 a.m.

He wants to be on the water right at the ass crack of dawn. Don’t get me wrong—I love me some fishing—but night fishing is just as great in my opinion.

“Baby.” He laughs loudly, pulling at my feet.

I kick my legs, burrowing my head deeper into the pillow and tucking the blanket under my neck.

He laughs again, thoroughly amused by me, apparently. I am not a morning person, not one bit. The blanket under my neck is pulled away, and my hand scrambles trying to catch it.

It’s tossed onto the floor, and I look up at Liam, ready to hurt him. He holds his stomach, bent over because he’s laughing at me so hard.

“Baby, we have to go! The fish will be biting soon,” he informs me, grinning at me ear-to-ear. I am trying to ignore the fact that he is absolutely gorgeous.

“I am cold. I have to brush my hair and get my clothes on,” I whine, pulling the shirt I am wearing down over my legs.

He rolls his eyes at me, turns around, and stalks to my closet.

“Did you just roll your eyes at me, Liam?” I ask him, pretending to be mad.

He laughs and comes out of the closet with a pair of jeans, a T-shirt, a jacket, and my muck boots. He puts the stuff on the bed by me, and he grabs the bottom of my shirt, pulling it over my head.

Is he really doing what I think he is right now?

He throws my shirt in the laundry basket by the door; then he bends down and picks my bra up off the ground. He puts the bra on way too easily and grins when I look down in astonishment.

“Baby, I have been tearing that thing off of you for the past week, over and over.” He smirks, looking way too pleased with himself.

I blush and cover my face. He is correct; we have been playing and experimenting a lot. I finally went down on him, and I was thoroughly terrified. I had to ask him what to do, and he walked me through it. I was embarrassed because I was so clueless.

He thought it was the cutest thing in the world, of course

Ugh, men. Fuck my life.

Right now he is being the cutest thing alive. He pulls my shirt over my head, and I smile at him. He shakes his head and pulls my jeans over my feet and up to my thighs. Then he wraps an arm around my back, lifts me, and pulls them over my ass, which is a hard feat, mind you, since it’s not the smallest thing in the world.

He sets me back down on the bed then walks into the bathroom and comes out with a hairbrush.

“You’re the sweetest person on earth.”

He glares at me and pulls me to the edge of the bed, and I cross my legs, letting him brush my hair.

“I am not sweet,” he grumbles.

I laugh. “Well, you are to me.”

The hairbrush stops. “Of course I am, Baby, you’re my woman and you deserve to be handed the fucking world.”

Be still my heart, I just can’t with this person.

“Liam,” I choke out, my eyes filled with tears and my throat tight.

The hairbrush stops once more. “You better not be fucking crying, you know what I said about that shit.” He tosses the brush on the bed and smacks the side of my ass, drying my tears right up.

“Ouch.” I rub the side of my ass.

“Want me to kiss it better?” His eyes darken, looking right at my pussy. I push his chest, getting up. “We both know if you do that we won’t go fishing today.”

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