Page 33 of Stronger Than Love

The paradox left me with a pounding headache and sleep deprivation. I stood under the shower until my skin wrinkled and complained, and I dried my hair so straight it gleamed as it was tamed into a high ponytail. My makeup was light but concentrated around the eyes and mouth. It was a trick my friend Angie taught me a few years ago—accentuate one or two assets and keep the rest nothing more than background makeup.

My jeans and shirt would have to do until I got to the hospital. I didn’t want to appear wrinkled for my interview.

The crunch of Liam’s tyres on the drive alerted me to his arrival. To dissipate my nervous energy, I’d already made breakfast and poured strong tea into mugs. No matter what anyone said, I would never drink coffee.

A brief knock sounded at the kitchen door before Liam prowled in. He stopped, his gaze moving to the breakfast waiting for him, and blinked.

“You made pancakes and bacon?” he asked, his voice husky.

It had always been his favourite, the bacon extra crispy, and the pancakes mid-brown.

I sipped my tea, pushing his plate across the counter. Some things never changed, and Liam’s appetite fit into that category. He devoured the entire plate in record time, munching on the bacon with a happy smile on his face. My pancakes had maple syrup drizzled on them since I possessed an ultra sweet tooth.

“You do realise adults drink coffee in the morning?” Liam commented with the devious twinkle in his eye that said he was creating mischief.

“Tea has caffeine in it too, and it doesn’t taste terrible,” I retaliated, clearing the dishes into the sink.

“What is it with you and tea?”

“I’m Irish, it’s in my DNA to drink tea,” I deadpanned.

His laughter washed over me, clothing me in the deep, luxurious flavour of it. “Ready?” he finally asked.

Nodding, I headed to the door.

“Oonagh?” I spun around. “I’m not a doctor, but even I know you shouldn’t go to an interview in your jeans.”

“Really?” Sarcasm dripped from my tone. “Thank goodness I packed my suit to change into.” Lifting the bag from the hanger beside the door, I waved it in front of him.

His brow furrowed. “Where do you plan to change?”

“The toilet.”

“Fuck that. I need to turn into a professional for the morning and my clothes are at my apartment. You can get dressed there before I drop you off.” He lifted the bag from my hand and pressed a hard kiss on my lips. “Thanks for breakfast. Let’s go.”

When did Liam get so bossy and why did it make my stomach tighten? If another man spoke to me like that, I would be enraged and quoting women’s rights legislation. He took control, dragging me behind him, and it left me hot and bothered. His ass disappeared out the door, clad in tight denim that clung to him in a way that had me biting my bottom lip.

Holy moly, what was I doing?

I needed to stay away from him, protect my heart. Instead, every day and every action hauled me deeper into his web of desire.

After seeing his sleek bike, in my mind I expected a sports car. Instead, there was a jeep that wouldn’t look out of place on any farm in shiny black metallic paint. I stopped to stare, my hands landing on my hips.

“What?” His lips twitched. “I have to go on all types of terrain to chart jobs. This baby lets me go anywhere I need.”

“I guess I should be grateful that you didn’t bring your bike,” I muttered, throwing him a sour look while he hung my suit bag in the back of the vehicle.

“Couldn’t get your hair mussed up,” he replied, tugging my ponytail on the way past.

The ghostly memory of his fingers wrapped in my hair last night sent a shiver of lust pulsing down my spine. Mybest game face of neutrality settled on my face as I climbed into his monster machine.

Nervous butterflies invaded my stomach and cascaded up into my chest. Up until now, our relationship had been based on this village. This was the first time Liam and I were leaving it together. To distract myself from my mental dialogue, I flicked between radio channels until I found a song I liked.

“Please tell me you aren’t one of those people…” Liam pleaded.

“What people?”

“The ones that keeps changing the radio station at the end of every song.” His eyes left the road briefly to throw me a disbelieving look.

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