Page 52 of Our Lips Are Sealed
Another bellowing exhale passed Jamison’s lips, and he cringed, staring at her with tired eyes. This racket had gone on all night. Grant it, he could have left, but stayed for… well, he had his reasons.
When he and Samuel arrived at the hotel, Samuel interrogated the front desk clerk until she told them what she knew about the girls and where they might have gone. Nari had also been constantly monitoring the charges coming in from Jamison’s credit card, updating them with alerts every few minutes.
The woman really liked to shop.
Finally tracking them to a jazz club sitting off Bourbon, Samuel insisted on waiting outside for Evie to come to him.
“Don’t worry,” he’d said to Liam, leaning against the brick wall outside the entrance. “She’ll find me.”
He was right, of course. The second Evie caught sight of Liam entering the club, she’d nearly knocked him over to get to Samuel. However, respecting Samuel’s request, Liam wouldn’t let her pass until he apologized properly.
And he’d done so as best he could while Jamison glared at him with some weird doll in her hand. It had needles rammed into its eye sockets and a tuft of light brown hair eerily similar to his own sticking out its head.
After Evie left, he’d sat without invitation, intent on wearing Jamison down until she forgave him. As he expected, she made him work for it, pretending to ignore everything he said as she continued to toy with the doll she was holding.
“Is that supposed to be me?” A second doll sat on the table next to her wine glass, and Liam picked it up to examine the black haired thing. “And I’m guessing this one is Samuel?”
“I don’t know,” she mumbled, removing the pins from the brown haired doll’s eyes to poke them into its chest. “Feeling any pain?
Liam tossed the Samuel doll on the table and leaned in close, wanting to make sure she heard him over the music. “I’m sitting in a jazz club on a Friday night with the most beautiful woman that has ever, or will ever, exist,” he replied, allowing his lips to graze her ear. “The very last thing I’m feeling right now is pain.”
She shivered from his touch, and Liam left her to get a drink at the bar. By the second round, they were sitting hip to hip, oblivious to the other patrons.
As the evening wore on, they ended up leaving the Maison and eating po-boys on the street with a group of drag queens on their way to a nightclub. The idea of dancing excited Jamison, and Liam wasn’t about to say no, unwilling to deny himself seeing her on the floor. They were in New Orleans, and might as well make the best of it. At the club, she continued to drink under his watchful eye, moving to the music with her new friends while he stood back, hypnotized.
But then a slow song hit.
One of those old eighties ballads that was more cheesy than meaningful. It was enough to lure him to her, and they swayed to the music, held together by some unknown power.
This close, he couldn’t hold her gaze, his eyes repeatedly dropping to her mouth.
“You look like you want to kiss me, Agent Cohen.”
Liam huffed out a laugh, licking his lips as he locked a hand on the back of her neck. “I want to do a lot more than kiss you.”
So right there on the dance floor, in front of God and everyone else, William Cohen Jr. kissed Jamison Fairweather for the first time.
And it was so fucking worth it.
The taste of her was something he would never get over. This time, crossing the line of propriety didn’t involve any hesitation. Liam ran over it like an Olympic speed runner, waving goodbye to his better judgment as he left it in the dust.
Sliding his tongue past her lips, feeling the echo of her moan ripple through him, Liam knew then that he could never walk away from this woman unscathed.
Days.
He had known her for nothing more than a handful of days, but he was hooked.
The song eventually ended, and the kiss was over, their gazes meeting. “Are you ready to go back to the hotel?”
She nodded, continuing to cling to him with a heated look that said she was all in for what he had planned.
But unfortunately, Jamison’s stomach had other ideas, and the look of lust on her face quickly changed into one of alarm, mere seconds before vomit ejected with the force of a jet engine out of her mouth.
It landed on his shoes, his clothes, and a couple of bystanders.
Liam gave up on letting her walk back to the hotel within the first block of the club and carried her the rest of the way with people everywhere stopping them to make sure she was okay.
Once they made it to her room, he fished the key out of her purse and let them inside. Kicking the door shut, he’d stripped off her vomit-soaked clothes and tucked her into bed. She asked him to stay before passing out, and not strong enough to say no, he’d removed his shirt and pants to lay next to her. For the rest of the night, their kiss replayed in his mind, running in a loop to the soundtrack of dying animal noises coming out of Jamison’s mouth.
