The TV sitting above the faux fireplace made it seem like it should be called a living room. But to me, it felt like a library. An honest-to-goodness library from a fairytale.
“I’ll leave you be,” I said and gave him a clipped nod.
“Stop.”
The command rippled down my spine.
Slowly, I turned and looked over my shoulder.
“Stay.” Liam gestured to the sofa.
“I don’t know, I don’t want to intrude—”
“I said, stay.” He set the laptop on the footstool, which was pushed to the side of the armchair, and plucked his emptytumbler off the side table. Going to the liquor cart, he filled the glass.
And brought it to me.
“Please…stay.”
Something about the way he said that made me forget why this was a bad idea.
I reached out my hand, but Liam shook his head. He took a small sip, eyes boring into me as his throat worked to swallow the liquid. When he handed it to me, his focus was too intense. I curled my fingers around the thing and scooted to the couch, placing the beverage on the coffee table. With a huff that did a poor job of hiding my rapid breaths, I sank onto the seat.
Liam returned to his work, while I opened the book and failed to comprehend the words.
It was a mistake coming in here. I’d just spent the last thirty minutes taming my horny little inner sex goddess. After rereading the same paragraph three times, I reached for my tea.
My fingers collided with the whiskey.
Screw it.
I plucked the thing and took a healthy gulp. Heat seared the back of my throat. It worked its way down to my belly. I shifted in the seat, placed the glass back, and stretched out.
I didn’t have to look up to see his gaze. I felt it track my movements. For the next ten minutes, I tried to concentrate on the novel.
Pushing up on my elbow, I reached for the drink. The button on the front of my jeans dug into my stomach, and I shifted to adjust the wedgie forming from the damn pants. The cotton strip of my panties was hot…and damp. Discreetly adjusting it only created more friction against my pussy.
He probably has no idea.
That was a good thing. I just had to sit here and learn to control my raging lust.
From across the room, keys tapped in a tight rhythm.
I rolled onto my stomach. I crossed my legs over at the ankles. I flexed my muscles—and my core contracted. The same paragraph stared back accusingly as I tried again. Something about the protagonist searching her neighbor’s house and hearing a car pull in the driveway. It should have had me pinned in suspense.
Unfortunately, the whiskey made me lift my gaze off the page. I stared into the shadows. Those stormy eyes were glued to the screen. I ran my tongue across my bottom lip. My legs shifted again, and this time, I pressed into the couch, searching for friction.
The ring of a phone made me jump out of my skin. Guilty at being caught staring and licking my lips like a hungry, feral little cat, I stared at the page, scanned the words, and flipped to the next. The poor protagonist was trying to hide. Or…was she running? Who knew.
“Yes?” Liam’s smooth answer sounded the way the whiskey felt.
I reached for the glass again, this time taking a bigger gulp. I didn’t used to like this stuff, but something about the amber liquid washing over my tongue had me smacking my lips. Quietly, of course. Like a lady. I licked them, making sure to savor the taste as my gaze rose without my consent.
It was snared by the sight of a storm. Energy crackled through the room. Liam’s gaze burned as it held mine.
“Tell him we won’t take a cent less,” Liam snapped. “Why are you wasting my time with this shite?”
The mobster didn’t give the other person time to answer.
