Bullets & Bonfires
All afternoon, he’s had me dancing on the edge of orgasm. The intense way he watched me. Standing behind me to give instructions, so close I could feel his heat. Who knew target practice could be so exciting? A few minutes of his hips pistoning back and forth might be all I need.
Oh, the sweet, sweet friction. My muscles tense and a scream tears from my throat.
He moves faster in response, giving me the right rhythm to draw out my orgasm.
Our skin is slick with sweat but he holds onto me as he groans and comes in long, hard jerks.
When he’s finished, he drops his sweaty forehead to mine for a second. We stay that way, holding onto each other until our breaths slow and our hearts stop racing. He releases me and rolls to his back and we both stare up at the sky. “You all right?”
“Mmmhmm.”
He comes into focus, gazing down at me. I reach up and run my fingers through his hair. “You know, I used to fantasize about doing something like that with you all the time when we had these bonfires.”
He raises an eyebrow. “Did I live up to your fantasy?”
I nod vigorously. “Oh yes.”
“You’re gorgeous all naked in front of the fire.” His fingers trace the lines of my shoulders, down my arms, over my chest and down to my belly. “You’re so soft.”
“Weird, since I like it when you give it to me hard.”
He bursts into laughter. “Careful, sweetness or you’re going to get it hard again.”
We trade silly jokes laced with sexual innuendo until I’m laughing so hard I can’t breathe.
“Let’s go inside before you get eaten up by mosquitos.” He reaches over and plucks his shirt off the ground, slipping it over my head. “We can sleep in my old room,” he says, picking himself up and pulling on his shorts. He leaves them unbuttoned and it’s such an unconsciously sexy thing to do, I can’t help running my fingers around the edge of his waistband. “That’s a good look for you, Hollister.”
He nods at the T-shirt I’m wearing that hits me at mid-thigh level. “You look damn fine in my shirt, Avery.” He holds out a hand and I take it.
I follow him around the house while he sprinkles flakes of food in his mother’s small fish tank and does a few other tasks.
“You’re such a good son,” I blurt out. Liam glances at me as if he thinks I’m making fun of him, but I’m not. “I mean it.”
He gives a quick shrug. “They’re good parents.”
Is it possible to be any more in love with this man?
With Liam, I can vividly picture having a family. He’ll be a wonderful father and protector.
“Hey.” His hand taps my shoulder. “What’s going on in your head?” He opens the door to his bedroom and leads me inside.
I doubt he wants to hear about my primal you’re-a-good-baby-making-candidate instincts, so I go with something more lighthearted.
“Wow, I finally made it into Liam Hollister’s bedroom. The best wide receiver Johnsonville High has ever had,” I tease, glancing around the room that hasn’t changed all that much from when he was a teenager.
“It’s weird when you say my full name like that.”
“I doubt I’m the first girl to say it.”
“You’re the first one to say it in here.”
I decide not to pull at that thread. Nothing before us matters. Only our future.
He drops down on the bed and pulls me to stand between his knees. “I spent a lot of time in this bed thinking about you.”
“Really? I thought I was like a sister to you?”
“No. Not at all.” He cocks his head. “I told you I had a crush on you the first day we met.”
I try to recall the conversation he’s referring to. “You rescuing me from the playground bully?”
“Yes.”
“I figured you were just trying to make me feel better.”
He sighs and shakes his head. “What am I going to do with you?” His hands skim up the back of my legs, up under my shirt, and he slowly lifts it over my head. “You won’t be needing this tonight.”
The next morning, sunlight stabs me in the eyes much earlier than I usually prefer. I grumble and roll back over, shoving my head under the pillows.
Cold air rushes over my skin as Liam rips away the covers. “Noooo. It’s too early,” I whine.
Liam’s warm body replaces the blankets. His hands roaming everywhere. Over my hip, my belly, up to cup my breast and nuzzle my neck. “Time to wake up.”
I open one eye and peer up at him. “You kept me up half the night. I’m still sleepy.”
“Come on. I want to take you to my apartment. We can stay there until Kimber’s back from the vet. You can take a nap after I leave for work.”
My lips push into an unhappy pout. “Do you have to go to work?”
“Yes, baby girl.” He gives my butt a few affectionate pats before rolling away from me.
“I would like to finally see your apartment.”
“Good. I’ll go make breakfast while you get ready.”
After breakfast, we tidy up the house and grab the mail, leaving it in a neat stack on the counter.
“First, let’s stop at your brother’s so we can get your things,” he suggests.
“I do need some clothes,” I grumble, staring at my grass-stained shorts and the shirt I borrowed from Liam since mine was damp with morning dew from sitting outside all night.
He settles his hand on my leg. “Bring anything and everything you want with you.”
“Careful, or I’ll move in with you.”
He glances over. “Fine by me.”
My stomach flutters and I rest my hand against his.
Everything seems exactly the way we left it at Vince’s. Liam still stalks around the perimeter of the house to check.
Excited because I’m finally visiting Liam’s apartment, I blow through the house like a tornado tossing stuff in my backpack and duffle bag.
Liam’s footsteps thud over the hardwood floor and I glance up to find him standing in the bedroom doorway.
“Got everything?” he asks.
I pat the bag I have crushed to my chest and motion to the other bag strapped to my back. “Ready.”
His mouth quirks. I probably look as eager as a kid headed to summer camp. Heck, I almost feel like one.
“Follow me over in your car. I don’t want you to feel stranded.”
“Works for me.”
It’s a short drive to the complex Liam calls home. His apartment is on the second floor. He gives me a quick tour. One bedroom. Nothing fancy.
“It’s so neat and tidy.”
My observation makes him laugh and he places his hands on his hips. “It sounds like you expected my place to be a pig sty.”
“No, but you are a single guy.”
He drops the teasing smile. “Not anymore. Never again.”
Wow. I don’t have time to fully absorb and appreciate his words before he pulls me against his body. “I can’t believe I finally have you at my place and I have to go to work.”
“I’ll be here when you come home.”
“I like that,” he whispers, pressing a soft kiss against my lips.
After Liam leaves, I unpack a few of my things. I brought tea and decide to make that before flicking on the television.
At least I feel safe here. I didn’t want to admit to Liam that after the last freaky occurrence, I was scared to be alone at Vince’s house. Her
e, I’m safe. No one should be able to find me.
My phone beeps and flashes red, telling me it’s almost out of juice.
Crap.
In my hurry to pack up my stuff, I forgot my cell phone charger. After rummaging through Liam’s drawer of electronic odds and ends, I still can’t find one to fit my phone.
“Shit.” I need to charge it soon. My brother was supposed to call and let one of us know when he’s finally coming home.
Will he flip out when he finds out Liam and I are together? Or will he act like an adult and be happy for us? I’m ashamed to say, I don’t really know my brother that well anymore, so it could go either way, although I’m leaning toward flip his shit.
Never mind Vince. If Liam calls later and he’s sent to voicemail, I don’t want him to worry. I also don’t want to miss any of the texts he might send me tonight.
I won’t be the cause of any more stress in his life. His job is hard enough. So, I grab my keys, shove my almost-dead phone in my pocket, and trot downstairs to my car.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
“I need coffee. Stop at the Stewart’s at the bottom of the hill,” Brady directs, waving his hand at the windshield. As if I don’t know which store he’s talking about. Or why he really wants to stop there.
“Coffee my ass. You want to flirt with what’s-her-face.”
Brady chuckles, not offended because we both know it’s the truth.
“I’ll wait in the car. Don’t want you to be embarrassed when you get shot down again.” While he’s busy getting the brush-off from the checkout girl, I plan to call my girl and make sure she’s comfortable at my apartment.
She wants her independence, but the urge to protect her isn’t ever going to go away. She might as well get used to it now.
Through the store window, I can see Brady chatting with the girl he’s had his eye on for at least a month. With the way I’ve seen him go through women, watching him get shot down multiple times has been entertaining as hell. For me, anyway. Today, he’s clearly working the Irish charm hard. If I had to guess, he’s laying the accent on thick. Poor girl.