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"You're fascinating."
I inhaled sharply. No one had even called me fascinating before. "You're arrogant and controlling."
"You don't trust your own instincts."
My shoulders slumped. "You got me there."
He tilted my chin up. "And yeah, I'm pretty controlling. I'm working on that." He grinned. "You're helping." He bent his lips, closer, closer, holding back, "Ah!" he teased, pulling back as soon as I started reaching for him. "I have a condition, though. When I kiss you again, it's for real. You believe me when I tell you you're it."
I watched his face, breathless with how near he was. Those instincts I was learning to trust were screaming at me to kiss him, kiss him now, and never stop kissing him. "Okay," I half-moaned, "I believe you."
I finally did.
"Shay." The way he said my name was just sinful. Like a whisper of a promise, it slid across his tongue, more breath than word. It was a sigh and a song at the same time and it made my toes curl. I strained upward, wrapping my arms around his neck and pulling him to me, eager to close the distance I was tired of feeling.
When he finally kissed me, I knew it was with everything he had. Relief, desire, pent-up yearning, he poured it all out into the intensity of his kiss. His mouth covered mine, the heat searing and intense. We stayed that way, locked in a frantic embrace, for maybe forever, I wasn't sure.
I was breathless, my breasts heaving, when he finally pulled away.
"I have a condition too," I panted, holding up my hand.
"Talk quickly," he growled against my ear.
I pushed lightly on his chest. "You keep taking me on these incredible dates to impress me, but I barely know you. I need you to stop trying to impress me and be normal."
He stepped back, looking slightly stunned. A flicker of a wistful grin twitched on his face. "I'd love to be normal," he said. "Tell me how."
"Hang out with me," I urged. "Spend time with me...without all the grand gestures. Not everything has to be a huge production."
He blinked and hesitated. I could see the muscle jumping at his chiseled jawline. I held my breath until he finally agreed, "Okay."
I smiled widely and touched his collar. "Come over and hang out with my friends tomorrow. We'll make dinner." I couldn't keep the excitement out of my voice.
He paused. Swallowed. Then nodded. "Okay, Shay. Let's be normal."
Chapter Nineteen
This time, when I closed up the shop, I wasn't surprised to see him standing there.
But everything else about him was surprising.
The first thing I noticed was that he was wearing jeans. My eyes trailed up his long legs to take in the unzipped leather jacket and the white Henley underneath. Casual dress.
"Is this the real Liam?" I asked him. If it was, I heartily approved.
"It might be," he replied cryptically.
"Close your eyes," I instructed.
"Why?" He dutifully closed his eyes and I went to the refrigerator case.
"You keep buying me presents. I wanted to get something for you." Shyly, I pulled the flowerpot out of the case. It looked so much smaller now, so much more inadequate. Meager, even. The tiny little blossoms were nothing compared to the dazzling bouquets he had showered me with.
"Okay, open them," I told him, setting the pot in his hands.
Several different emotions flicked across his sculpted face. Confusion, amusement, and then deep, beautiful gratitude. I felt my heart jump to see it.
"What do they mean?" he asked immediately.
"Well, you got right to the heart of it, didn't you?"
"I'm still trying to learn," he smiled, showing that devastating dimple.
I had to tear my eyes away from his face if I had a hope of making sense. "Well, the flower itself is traditionally masculine." I began blushing immediately. "Gallantry," I swallowed.
"That's good," he said, his voice a little thicker.
"They are often given," I continued, "just to brighten someone's day."
"It worked." He touched the red and white petals. "What are they called?"
I giggled. "Sweet William."
His gray eyes darkened. "You think I'm sweet?"
I recognized the dark danger in his eyes, and momentarily flashed back to his face between my thighs. My voice wavered a little as I said, "They are also given as a sign of perfection. To tell the recipient that they are as good as it gets."
He kissed me roughly. "I haven't even shown you how good it can be."
I pulled back, blinking. "We're hanging out," I reminded him, even though my whole body was on fire.
"You are a very bossy lady," he complained.
"And you're terrible at following directions," I teased.
He gripped my upper arm, lightly, but with enough force to let me know he had me. "That's because I'm used to giving them," he murmured in my ear.
"Oh?" I exhaled. "So if you were in charge right now, what would you do?"
"Spread your sweet thighs on this counter and make you scream my name again."
"You're awfully cocky for someone with one foot still in the doghouse."
He arched his eyebrow and said nothing. But he didn't let go of my arm.
He held on to it all the way to Jasmine's building, guiding me along the slippery streets with a firm, protective hand. The sun had been warm today, and all the melted snow was now refreezing as darkness fell. Twice I nearly slipped and was grateful for his tight grip on me. Sometimes he held me so tightly, I wondered if his fingers would leave marks on me.
I liked the idea.
I had no idea why I liked the idea.
Kiki was already over and the apartment was already steamy and overly warm. I unwound my scarf, "Hi honeys, we're home!" I called into the bustle. I shot a look over to Liam. Some of that arrogance had slid from his face, replaced with nervousness about meeting my best friends.
It was kind of charming.
Jasmine strode over, a chef's knife casually gripped in her left hand. I saw Liam eye it before he shook her right one. "You're Liam, huh?" she raised her eyebrows. "I'll have you know my place smelled like rotted flowers for a week."
He laughed and shook her hand. "You must be Jasmine. I'm sorry, I thought Shay would know how to take better care of flowers."
"I'll have you know I spend all day taking care of flowers. For work." I nudged him. "When I get home, no more watering or trimming."
"Mmm," Jasmine rumbled noncommittally, then casually glanced at her knife before heading back into the kitchen.
"Liam, it's so great to meet you," Kiki gushed. I felt myself relax when she grabbed his hand and pumped it enthusiastically up and down. "I'm Keysha. Kiki."
"It's wonderful to meet you as well, Kiki." Liam seemed just as charmed as he should be.
Just then a buzzer sounded. "Whoops, gotta go grab that before it starts smoking." Kiki whirled on her heel, a slightly crazed look in her wide eyes.
I shot a look at Liam, who shrugged. "How'd I do?" he mouthed.
"So far so good," I told him. "Shall we head into the fray?" I took his reluctant hand and pulled him into the hive of estrogen that was the kitchen.
He stood in the corner for a moment, his hands shoved into the pockets of his jeans. "You didn't have to go to the trouble of cooking," he grumbled. "I could have taken us all out."
&nb
sp; I opened my mouth to protest but Jazzy beat me to it, of course.
"Nope." Jasmine grabbed an apron off the hook in the corner and shoved it in his direction. "Put this on so you don't mess up those nice jeans. How are you with chopping?"
