Page 9 of Hooking Her Up

“Tell me when you have time,” I demand. Her head drops and I tip up her chin with a fingertip, making her look at me. Her eyes can’t lie. She knows she’s mine. “Tell me,” I repeat.

“Liam,” she whispers. “I…”

Her hands rest on my chest and the light touch sends me over the edge. I wrap my fingers in her hair and tug her head further back. Her eyes are hungry and pleading.

“Tell me,” I say again.

“Kiss me,” she replies.

Our mouths collide, her soft lips opening so my tongue can enter her. Her hands slide up my chest and lock around my neck. With soft murmurs, she presses her body to mine as I tighten my grip in her hair.

We’re in the car bay, with nothing but a huge glass window between us and the world. Anyone could walk past or come in. This only adds to my frenzy. I don’t care—I want people to see that she’s mine. I let go of her silky hair and pull her body roughly to me. She gasps when she feels the steel of my cock against her middle but doesn’t pull away.

It’s me who gasps against her lips when she wraps her leg around mine, grinding even closer.

“Liam,” she says, breathless as she pulls away, running her fingers through my hair.

The sound of her saying my name with such urgent longing has me dipping for another taste of her tongue. Tugging her top out of her skirt, my hand finds its way up the smooth length of her back, easing under her bra strap.

Her chest heaves up against mine and I push her back just enough to get my other hand on one of her ripe tits. Her nipple hardens under my palm, the layers of fabric between me and her heat about to drive me insane.

“Oh my God, Liam,” she says, letting go of my hair to press against my chest. Her pupils are huge in her wide eyes, her lips wet, and the edges of her mouth reddened from my beard. “This is so good, but I have to go.”

It’s then that I notice the incessant buzzing coming from her bag, abandoned at her feet when we grabbed each other. I smooth her tousled hair behind her ear, tracing my finger down her cheek. Her eyes flutter shut for a moment but she shakes her head.

“I really have to go.”

“For now,” I say. “Tell me when I can come get you. Because I am coming to get you, Kayla.”

She blushes, smiling shyly up at me. “I’ll see what I can manage. Maybe lunch tomorrow?”

“Definitely.” I step away so she can get in the car. As soon as she’s seated, it’s like a cloud descends around her. Her shoulders round and the misery is all over her face again. Before she closes the door, I lean in. “You should live your life for yourself,” I tell her. “Make sure that you’re happy. You first, got it?”

She looks stunned and a little confused, but nods as she starts the car. I watch her back out and keep my eyes trained on her car until she rounds the corner. I need her to understand that she’s the most important thing in the world to me. I’m not going to stand seeing her so sad. Whatever it takes, that’s going away for good.

I lean against the wall, still rock hard, my blood coursing from the feel of her still on my fingertips.

Holy fuck, and I thought that kiss at the pizzeria was hot? It’s going to be another sleepless night.

Chapter 5

Kayla

A shadow looms over me as I read over the text Liam just sent me.

I’m heading your way for lunch.

I smile at the carnival advertisement he wrote on, tacked up in my cubicle at my dad’s firm. Sitting here wearing business casual while waiting for my next assignment isn’t how I wanted to spend my summer, and God forbid I have any time to myself. I might start thinking too much.

The shadow doesn’t pass by, but instead clears its throat.

I slide my phone under a pile of papers I’m supposed to proofread and turn to face my father. With a deeper scowl than usual on his face, he reaches over and pulls the carnival ad down, crumpling it in his hand.

“Walk with me,” he orders. He’d never make a scene with the other lackeys looking on. Once we get in his office, though…

Instead, he heads toward the elevators. Once the doors close us in, he shakes the wadded paper at me. “You’re not going to have time for this sort of thing. If you’re bored, there are the club socials every weekend. Benjamin’s son Brent will be home for the summer soon. He’d be happy to—”

“I’m not interested in Brent like that. We’ve never even been close friends,” I say, cutting him off at the pass. The idea of my dad playing matchmaker is ludicrous and he’s never tried it before. “Why do you care so much about my social life all of a sudden?”

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