The cold metal of the bench presses into my shins but I barely feel it. All that matters is the way Liam’s hands are gripping my hips, guiding my movements as I ride him.
“Yes.” He looks up, his eyes dilated, hooded, cheeks flushed, almost boyish. “Fuck, yes, yes. Keep going, baby. Keep rocking like that. Jesus, this feels unbelievable.”
“Oh god, I’m going to scream.”
Liam puts a hand over my mouth. “Come for me. I want to see your beautiful face come. Come all over my cock.”
I do as I’m told, my body shuddering around him as he empties every last bit of his come inside me.
CHAPTER 35
Gemma
“This is beautiful,” Igush, staring at the white rocky mounds in the sea, known as The Needles. What the Isle of Wight is famous for. The jagged stacks jut out of the sea like the spine of a prehistoric beast. “They look like a sea monster.”
We’re perched on a grassy cliff top, the wind whipping my hair into a frenzy that I’m sure makes me look like I’ve been dragged through a hedge backward. But, man, the view is worth every knot I’ll be untangling later.
After a sail to the island that didn’t involve me pulling on ropes, thank goodness, we explored the island. These cliff walks make me feel like I’m in a Jane Austen novel.
Tonight, we’ll stay back in the port there. I’m starting to appreciate the gentle rocking of the boat. Despite having a Greek god beside me, I’m out like a light in five seconds flat. Which is fantastic for my beauty sleep but terrible for my paranoia about sleep-farting. Please, for the love of god, do not let me Dutch oven this man.
I tear my eyes away from the view to find Liam watching me instead of the world-famous rock formation. My heart does a little flip.
“I’m glad you like it,” he says. “This is the most secluded spot to see them.”
We hiked for thirty minutes to get here, completely off the beaten track. “Okay, maybe my moaning was uncalled for. This is worth it,” I admit, trying not to focus on how out of shape I am. Or how good Liam looked sweaty.
He takes my hand and pulls me close as the wind whips through me. It’s all very romantic and couple-y, which is both thrilling and terrifying. Is Liam as good at compartmentalizing as he claims? Because we’re all but acting like a real couple here, and I’m not sure my poor heart can take it. You have to be a real fucking psycho to compartmentalize this level of intimacy. Hannibal Lecter–levels. Maybe Liam has a secret freezer full of hearts somewhere.
The way he casually suggested we stay for Saturday night too. He’s a smart guy—he must know that two nights together is a big deal. At least, it is to me.
But my poor, gullible mind is already away with the wind to France. The garlic festival is in August, four months away. I wonder if we’ll still be doing this arrangement then. I wonder if we’ll attend together. I’m already picturing us there, strolling hand in hand, our breath so potent it could clear out a small village.
“Thank you for coming here,” he says. “I’m having a really good time with you.”
“Even though I made you do all the work on the sail across?” I ask, batting my eyelashes at him.
“It was safer that way. For everyone within a five-mile radius.”
Before I can come up with a snarky retort, he cups my face and plants one on me that has my toes curling in my hiking boots.
I rise up, desperate to close the gap between us. My arms snake around his neck, clinging to him.
Liam lifts me into the air effortlessly and before I know it, I’m doing the classic rom-com leg pop. Who knew fisherman Liam had a hidden romantic streak? Certainly not him, if his constant denials are anything to go by.
Fisherman Liam is also horny, I quickly realize.
He tugs me down onto the grass, rolling us over so I’m lying on top of him.
“Seriously?” I hiss, trying to wriggle free and maintain some semblance of modesty. “Here? What if someone walks along this path?”
“We haven’t seen a soul on this trail,” he growls, his hands sliding south with purpose. “Relax, Gemma. Or don’t. I like you worked up.”
“You exhibitionist maniac,” I accuse, even as my body betrays me by melting against him. “First last night, now this.”
But this time it’s broad daylight, for crying out loud.
He lets out a low, rumbling chuckle that vibrates through his chest into mine. “Nobody knows us here.”
