Page 88 of Somebody's Watching Me
Grimacing as if fighting to stay in control of his emotions, Liam dropped his hands. “We’re past the sorrys.”
He took a step back, but she wouldn’t let him get far. With two hands, she grabbed hold of his shirt. “Don’t say that.”
Anger rippled through his pain, shattering it until only rage remained. He stared down at her. Hard and cold, letting a damn near unbearable silence swell between them. The phone in his pocket vibrated again and again, but he ignored it.
“Liam?”
Scanning the grounds, the guards, and the cameras, he tilted his head as he studied something in the distance.
Confused, she strained to see if there was anything out there. “What?”
“Why is it that every time I see you, you’re in a damn robe?” Returning his attention to her, Liam pressed forward, fitting his muscled frame against her soft curves. She groaned, unable to hold it in. “You should never hide your body.” With a hard yank, he worked the sash at her waist loose. “It’s too perfect.”
He spread the robe, his hands stalling when he saw what she was wearing. First the lingerie, then the cat pajamas, and now this.
“I still like to wear your clothes.”
His throat bobbed as he took in the sight of her in his T-shirt and the cutoff sweatpants she’d stolen from the duffle bag.
“This is almost as good as the lingerie.” He hooked a finger under the waistband rolled to stay on her narrow hips. “Almost.”
Tired of waiting, she arched up on her toes and attempted to kiss him.
Expecting the move, he jerked his head back. “No.”
She snapped her teeth, the months of sexual frustration reducing her into an animal. “Let’s go inside.”
“We’re not done talking out here.”
“What else is there to talk about?” Not beneath pouting, she stuck her bottom lip out and gazed up at him through her eyelashes. “I want you. You want me. The end. Let’s have sex.”
There was a debate. A quick one, playing out smoothly across his face to where he probably thought he was hiding it well.
And again, his gaze snapped beyond the tree to something on the lawn.
“The hot and cold routine is giving me whiplash, William.”
His attention returned to her, and he didn’t bother to stop his smile. “But you said sex was off the table.”
She let out an inelegant puff of air, her lips flapping on the exhale. “I’m overly tired and clearly fell into idiot mode. Ignore what I said.”
“I’m not going to do that.” Lowering his head, he laid a kiss on her neck, working his way up. Once he reached her earlobe, he nipped at it lightly. “Sex remains off the table.”
If he didn’t leave her ear alone, sex wasn’t going to be off the table. It was going to be on it, under it, and with her bent over it.
“But that doesn’t mean I’m not going to be good to you,” he whispered. “How many times since we broke up have you made yourself come while thinking of me?”
“None,” she confessed. “I haven’t had an orgasm since you left.”
Liam’s head lifted, and he smirked, his hand diving under her baggy T-shirt. “And do you know why?”
His thumb brushed across a nipple, and she shuddered. Needing to kiss him, she tried again, but again, he wouldn’t allow it. “Let me hear your answer.”
To everyone else, Liam came off as level-headed and calm. Whenever he met the fresh out of college interns in her department, they would often say he had agolden retrievertype of energy. Kind. Loyal. A man with an impeccable reputation and sweet smile.
It always made her laugh.
Not because Liam wasn’t those things. He was, and much more. But what no one understood was that beneath that calm demeanor and sweet smile, hergolden retrieverliked to bite.
