She could hate herself for it in the morning.
Chapter Six
Liam drove to her apartment rather than his condo or Vice. Despite the hungry pumping of his heart, going to Kate’s place would give her an out in case they came to their senses.
He didn’t want to come to his senses.
Driven by a primal need to orchestrate what happened next, he fought the urge to grab her and throw her on the nearest surface. Not easy to do, considering he’d wanted to fuck Kate until she screamed his name. He needed to lose himself in her and forget the ghosts in his life, the ones that haunted him in spite of his successes.
As he tore up the freeway, he recognized what was really behind his needs. Andy had said Liam was pissed at losing Michelle, his possession. As much as he railed at the idea, he wondered now if there might be a kernel of truth in the statement.
He’d never been a gracious loser. When you’ve lost so much, it was hard to smile as life sodomized you again and again.
Part of the reason he had trouble letting go of Michelle was because others had let go of him without a thought for his feelings. Without one word of comfort.
Now he wanted to seek a different kind of comfort with Kate. What was so wrong about that? They both needed the release. They’d both planned on turning a page tonight. She’d already begun to dominate his every thought. Now he’d have a chance to dominate her for a while.
They arrived at her building and parked in back. Kate frowned at her purse, searching for her keys.
“Hey.” Liam ran a hand up her arm hoping to calm her as much as himself. “You can always say no.”
“I don’t want to say no,” she answered in a hushed voice, and handed him the keys.
He didn’t say another word as they got out of the car. They walked hand in hand as he led her up the staircase. He opened the door and locked it again behind them once they were inside.
He hadn’t taken note of her décor before. Her walls were coral, bright and cheerful. The focal point of the living room was an overstuffed chintz couch with big flowers. Bookshelves were crammed with books and decorative picture frames which housed photos of an older woman with auburn hair. Kate’s mom? He could ask later. He liked the atmosphere she’d created in these humble quarters. The place seemed warm and homey, much like her.
He looked towards Kate. Her ponytail rested on her shoulder and she played with the end. She was nervous. The knowledge excited him as much as it disappointed him. She seemed to look around everywhere but at him.
“Um, would you like a drink? Coffee? Or I think I have some iced tea in the fridge.” She shifted her weight from foot to foot, like a gazelle getting ready to bolt.
He approached her, feeling as ravenous as a tiger, and allowed himself to linger on the cleavage that had intrigued him for days. “No drinks.”
She twisted the tip of her ponytail. “Right down to business, huh?”
He stood in front of her and breathed her in. Damn, she smelled good. It made him want to traipse barefoot through a fucking meadow. “I want to do something. I’ve wanted to do it since I met you.”
She frowned.
“Trust me, Kate. I won’t hurt you.” He reached around her head and gently tugged the elastic from her hair. He watched as its red radiance tumbled over her shoulders. So beautiful. He fingered the soft strands. “Damn, woman. You don’t know how much I’ve wanted to lose myself in all this hair.”
She narrowed her eyes, clearly not believing him.
“It’s true,” he said. “Just thinking of you on a bed, your hair spread out on a pillow, makes me so hard.”
Her blush made him even bolder.
He lowered his hand, rounding it over her hip, reaching toward her ass. Jesus, her curves felt so good. They seemed designed for his touch alone, and he longed to explore her more fully. To see what she hid under her sensible blouses. She gasped as he touched her, stiffened in his arms, but then relaxed into his caress. Just that little smidgeon of surrender had him biting his lip and straining in his jeans. “When I get your jeans off, gorgeous, am I going to find some more pretty red hair?”
In a moment of lustful madness, he grazed the area between her legs with one finger. Her knees gave into a quick buckle. “I don’t want to give too much away. Maybe you should find out.”
He grinned, tightening his grip with his other hand, holding her up. With one, slow caress, he removed his hand from between her legs. “I can’t wait to see you. All of you.” He turned her around, and marched her into the bedroom. Her every movement, every breath, spoke of desire and white-hot fire.
She wanted him, too.
Damn, he was going to enjoy this way too much for his own good.
What am I doing? This is Liam Doyle of Doyle Gaming. You hate him.
