Page 123 of Not That Impossible

I looked at the calendar.

He’d added an event on Saturday. It was blocked out for the whole day. And on Sunday. Monday. Tuesday. I swiped to the next month. And the next. And the next.

The next year.

The event said: Liam. He’d set it to recur every day. I didn’t know if it was a cliche or the most romantic thing I’d ever come across in my life.

“Well?” he said.

“I think we can make it work.”

28

We didn’t get together on Saturday in the end, thanks to real life getting in the way in the form of Liam being snowed under at work. I didn’t mind. As real life was what I actually wanted with Liam, not just convenient orgasms, I almost liked it.

Almost.

The day my second—and last—front-page article was published had been a hell of a rollercoaster. It had started off bad, crescendoed into the worst, taken a wild turn towards what the fuck, and ended with Liam kissing me on his doorstep, letting me go, pulling me back for one more, then standing and watching as I drove away.

Now here I was, two weeks later, and to my astonishment, I hadn’t yet exploded from unsatisfied desire.

Probably because I’d satisfied myself alot, on a daily basis. When I wasn’t busy satisfying myself, I was working out like a fiend. That always helped to clear my mind. When I wasn’t working out like a fiend, I was sitting cross-legged at my computer, my keyboard balanced on my lap, as I wrote like a man possessed.

My Liam Nash fanfic mojo was back with a vengeance.

One story I wrote was so filthy, I was half horrified at myself and my depraved imagination, and half aroused.

Okay, fully aroused, but still. The nerve of me.

What the hell would Liam think if he read this, I thought, merrily bashing away at the keyboard.

The caveman held my wrists locked together at my back and pushed me inexorably down to the pile of furs on the cold stone floor.

Firelight danced, warming the chill air of the cave where he’d taken me after accepting me as tribute from the rival tribe.

I thrashed beneath him but it was no good. Perhaps in the twenty-first century my fighting skills would have won my freedom but not here, and not now.

This powerful man had spent a lifetime wrestling sabre-toothed tigers, and mammoths and the like. What could a poor time traveller do?

I grunted and heaved against him. He straddled the back of my thighs and held me down without effort.

My struggles amused him. And aroused him—an enormous cock pressed against my quivering buttocks. He rumbled with amusement as he braced an arm beside my head and leaned over me to murmur something in my ear.

I couldn’t understand a word of his mysterious language. His meaning, though, was clear as anything. He bit the back of my neck and gripped my nape with his teeth as he released my hands to slowly drag down my sweatpants—

I blinked and came back to myself.

If I’d tried writing this a few weeks ago, Liam would have probably stripped me, tied me to a stake and left me as a snack for the tigers. This was a big improvement.

I’d gone into the trash bin on my MacBook, restored all the deleted stories where Liam had rejected me over and over again, and put them in their own sub-folder inside my secret fanfic folder. It seemed a shame to destroy them. I’d worked hard on them, even though they all kept going sideways. Perhaps one day I’d reread them and rework a few.

What would Liam think if he read any ofthoseones, I thought, smiling to myself.

My smile faded.

Oh my god.

What would Liam think?

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