Page 58 of Three Grumpy Groomsmen

“Because this is probably not going to be sweet and romantic. I’m not going to make love to you. Not this first time. I’m going to fuck you. Fuck three years of pent up lust and emotion into you. Fuck the I-almost-lost-this-chance into you.”

I laugh, even as every inch of my body feels like it’s on fire. I wouldn’t expect sweet and romantic from Liam, even if we didn’t have feelings building between us for years. But I say, “Well, believe it or not, that is kind of romantic. And perfect for us. And I’m all in.”

He gives me a delicious growl, then kisses me quickly before taking my hand and practically dragging me into the motel, upthe flight of stairs to the second floor and down the hallway to room two seventeen, then through the door.

I expect to be spun and pressed against the door or wall, but instead he pushes me toward the bed.

“Stay right there,” he commands.

He goes around the room, opening the curtains fully so the sunlight spills in, then turning on every light. Then he grabs the armchair near the window and drags it over.

He positions the chair so there are a few feet between the chair and the foot of the bed. He drops into the chair, props one ankle on his opposite knee, sits back, then says, “Okay.”

“You’re not going to undress or even get on the bed?”

“I have been waiting for this moment for three years. I intend to savor every single moment, study every single inch,touchand taste every single inch of you.”

I shiver as desire ripples through me.

“Well,” I say, my voice breathless. “Just tell me what you want me to do.”

He grips the arms of the chair, but says, “Strip.”

This won’t take long. I’m wearing a simple summer dress. Underneath, I am wearing a bra and panties, though.

When I pulled them on this morning, I remembered what Ford had said about the jumpsuit I wore months ago that he still remembered.

You have to stop thinking about Ford.

It’s not like I’m not focused on Liam. I am. I am so happy to be here with him. I feel like my entire body is buzzing with excitement and I very much want to do this with him.

I kick my sandals off to the side, then start unbuttoning the tiny buttons that run down the front of the dress. I wouldn’t have to. I can slip the dress on and off over my head, but there’s something about unbuttoning for him that makes me feel sexy.And the way he grips the arms of the chair tighter, and the flare of heat in his eyes tells me this is the right choice.

I unbutton to my waist and he growls, “Enough.”

I smirk as I let the dress drop to the floor. I pause, letting him study me in my bra and panties. I don’t have huge breasts, but they are enough to fill his hands, and I can’t wait to feel his touch. My nipples are very hard, and I’m sure he can see them through the thin silk of my bra.

“Bra and panties. Off.”

Liam is a man of few words anyway, but the gruffness in his voice tells me that some of his short commands have to do with his tightly wound desire. That gives me a heady thrill.

I reach behind me and unfasten my bra, tossing it to the side. He sucks in a sharp breath as my bare breasts are revealed for the first time. Then I hook my thumbs in the top of my panties and push them down.

I can feel his gaze on me as if he’s touching me. I stand, waiting for my next command. There’s something about letting him lead this that makes my pussy flutter.

Liam does not coddle me. He’s always there for me. If I need a ride home, if I need someone to bounce ideas off of, the time I was sick with strep throat and Brad was out of town and I needed someone to bring me soup and more cough drops. But Liam doesn’t assume I need to be taken care of. He’ll help me with anything if I ask, but he doesn't take over. Usually, I like that. He fully respects me and admires my independence.

But now? Here in the bedroom? With sex? It’s very hot to be taking orders.

“Turn around,” he tells me.

I do, intending to turn a full three-sixty. But he stops me when I’m facing away. He leans forward and I feel his hands on my waist. I shiver. “I love having your hands on me.”

“Good thing. I’m going to be doing a lot of touching for a long time.”

I smile, but then he drags his hands down the outside of my thighs, and my smile dies. His touch sends sparks along all of my nerve endings.

He runs his hands back up my thighs, then to my ass, where he kneads and squeezes before running them up my back, then around to my stomach, then back to my hips.

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