Page 14 of Every Moment with You

Regret floods me, especially as I realize I will likely have to talk to him to get my ID. My humiliation quota for the night is nearly full, but the universe doesn’t seem to care about that.

Liam looks up from the register, his gaze traveling around the bar before his eyes land on me. His lips curve downward as he stares at me. After a moment of his gaze freezing me in place, he rounds the bar and walks in my direction. His hand slides into his pocket, pulling out what I suspect is my ID.

“Missing something?” he asks as he stops in front of me. He holds the ID out, waiting for me to take it.

“Thank you.” I tuck the plastic into my purse.

“So, why’d you run out on our date like that?” A frown mars his handsome features.

“Honestly?” I ask, shifting my weight, and looking around the room. “I was terrified.”

Liam’s lips twitch, the frown disappearing as understanding crosses his face. “Well, tell you what, I want to see you again. And if you promise not to run out me again, I’d love to take you out.”

I smile, though the embarrassment of ditching him is still making me uneasy. “I promise.”

Liam grins, closing the space between us. I tilt my head back to look at him, my heart pounding in my chest. There are butterflies beating their wings against my stomach, the feeling of that moment before a first kiss returning as if it hasn’t been missing from my life for years.

Liam’s arms wrap around my waist, my arms circling his neck before he leans down and presses his mouth against mine. His lips move softly, coaxing out a slow kiss that I melt into.

When we part, I’m grinning like a fool, wondering what I’ve been missing the last few years. That one kiss with Liam has more passion than the last several years of kissing my ex-husband had.

“I’ll see you soon,” Liam says as I leave the bar and get into another Uber.

As the driver steers the vehicle away from the curb, the sense of danger curdles my stomach once again. I think I’m falling for Liam, and I’m falling fast.

Chapter Eight

Liam

Tracey:I’m sorry, I can’t see you tonight. Deja is in a photography competition, and I don’t want to miss it. It’s a long time since she’s been interested in something other than giving me a headache.

Me:No worries. I understand.

Tracey:Thank you. I promise I’ll make it up to you.

Me:You could make it up to me now. Remember that picture you sent me last week? That sexy lace bra and thong? Send me another one in that.

I groan as the photo—albeit without her face showing—comes through. With a smirk, I stare at the picture as I stroke my erection hard and slow.

Tracey and I have been texting several times every day in lieu of actually physically hanging out with each other. Her daughter didn’t take too kindly to her going out with me, so Tracey decided we should keep things low-key and not flaunt our relationship—at least until Deja is in a better frame of mind. I’m not too happy about it because it makes me feel as if Tracey and I are hiding what’s happening between us, but I understand. Although I had a privileged life growing up, my childhood was marred with issues that no child should have to deal with, so I can empathize with Deja a whole lot. And besides, Tracey has every right to raise her daughter in the way she sees fit.

Before we’d met in person, our texts to each other were merely the friendly, getting-to-know-each-other kind. But, since then, those mainly platonic messages have seamlessly moved into the NSFW category. Obviously, these latest texts are strictly NSFW. I quickly type another message.

Bzzzt, bzzzt, bzzzt.

The reminder on my phone lets me know it’s time to get going. With a scowl, I quickly message Tracey to let her know I’ve got to go but will talk to her later, and then I tuck the device into my pocket. Getting up, I mentally prepare myself for the worst blue balls ever during brunch with my mother.

When I arrive at the country club, my mother is sitting by the pool at one of the tables. She doesn’t look up when I give her the obligatory kiss on both of her surgically-enhanced cheeks. I sit down across from her, her thumbs flying over her phone as she finishes a message. When she looks up, there’s a bright smile on her face. That’s probably the only thing I’ve inherited from her—her smile. Other than that, I’m the replica of my father, less the greying hair.

“Liam, good to see you finally. I was starting to think you were ignoring me.”

“I would never ignore you,” I say tightly, looking at the menu. “I’ve been busy trying to avoid your shenanigans.”

She laughs and waves a dismissive hand. “I’m not up to any shenanigans, son.” Raising her gaze beyond me, she says, “We need to wait a few minutes before ordering. There’s another person joining us.””

“Dad?”

“No.” Mother shakes her head, smirking as she looks down at her own menu. I pull my phone out of my pocket and look at the message Tracey sent.

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