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nearby.
I pulled it on, my feeling of exposure increasing when I registered him moving behind me, going into the bathroom, presumably to deal with the protection. I looked behind and all I could see were his taut buttocks and the gorgeous curve of that broad back. Not helping.
The memory of all that hard-packed muscular strength thrusting deep inside me made my breath catch again. And the lingering letdown of sexual frustration. The clasping emptiness. It was that bloody recurring dream. Except now it was humiliating reality. Give me a mocking vibrator any day of the week than a real live sex god calling me out.
I found my panties, pulled them on and stood up, feeling wobbly. Between my legs was tender. Liam came back out, tall and unashamed in his nakedness. Like some golden being. I kept my eyes averted from his middle section. He frowned when he saw that I was dressed. I folded my arms over my chest.
‘What are you doing?’
I hated this sudden feeling of vulnerability. ‘I have to be up early to look for jobs tomorrow. You should go.’
Liam looked at his watch and said incredulously, ‘It’s not even eleven yet.’
‘Look,’ I said, feeling increasingly panicked. ‘We had some fun, okay? That’s all I was looking for, nothing heavy or serious.’
‘Is this because you didn’t come?’
No, it’s because you noticed. Why the hell did he have to be the guy who cared about whether a woman came or not? Panic gripped me and I protested hotly, ‘I did come.’
The lie made me cringe inwardly and I said hurriedly, ‘Look, it doesn’t even matter. I’m not into a post-mortem and hanging out all night, okay?’
Liam snorted and grabbed for his own jeans, pulling them on. I could breathe easier even as I saw the lines of tension in his body as he buttoned up over that mouth-watering package.
He looked at me with narrowed eyes. ‘I don’t do post-mortems, either, sweetheart, and I know what an orgasm feels like and you weren’t even close.’
Feeling angry now that he wouldn’t let it go, I said, ‘Why do you even care? Most guys don’t.’ Shit. I cursed myself for letting that last bit slip out.
Liam’s expression became veiled, he looked at his watch again. There was a distinct iciness in his voice now. ‘You’re right, it’s late and I should get going.’
He stalked back out to the living area, presumably to get his T-shirt. I followed warily, my insides hollowing out, and saw him tying the laces on his sneakers. He stood up again and just looked at me for a long moment before saying, ‘See you around, Caitlin.’
I opened my mouth to respond, but Liam had opened the door and was gone before I could get a word out. A lone siren pierced the night. A week into my New York adventure and my first one-night stand. Or, more accurately, a half-night stand.
I tried to rationalize the experience and not to think about how watching Liam walk away made me feel inside. I’d never expected to feel a connection of lust powerful enough to have me hopping into bed within hours of meeting a complete stranger.
And I certainly hadn’t expected a stranger to bring me closer to an orgasm than I’d ever been in my life...and I hadn’t expected him to realize I’d faked it.
No, that wasn’t part of the plan at all. The sooner I forgot about Liam and how close he’d come to a deeply secret part of me that wasn’t up for discussion no matter how gorgeous or talented he was, the better.
* * *
Liam was still scowling as he walked through his bar to get to his apartment upstairs. When he asked Toby, his bar manager, how the night was going, the young man took one look at Liam’s face and backed away with his hands raised. ‘Fine, boss, fine.’
That didn’t help Liam’s mood. He took the stairs two at a time and slammed the door of his apartment behind him. He’d gone through every conceivable curse in his head and then some. Why was it that he couldn’t get her face out of his head? Or those huge eyes looking bruised and wounded as she’d affected a nonchalance that had had about as much authenticity as her fake orgasm. And worse, why had he even noticed? Or cared? He knew that not every woman came every time, and hell, even he’d struggled a few times.
But, having said that, Liam prided himself on being a good lover. God knew, he should be after the in-depth initiation he’d received. He knew his way around a woman’s body. He knew how to get them off and he enjoyed getting them off. It heightened his own enjoyment.
But somewhere in the last couple of hours, with her, his lust had overtaken him, and for the first time in a long time, his sole focus had been on himself and satisfying the inferno in his own body.
It galled him that Caitlin hadn’t come. That he’d noticed too late to stop and do something about it. And it shouldn’t be bothering him. After all, hadn’t she said she didn’t want a post-mortem? He sensed it had bothered her more than she’d let on, but he reiterated to himself—what did he care?
He’d never see her again. That assertion caused his insides to clench minutely and Liam scowled in response. He could hardly judge her for not wanting more than a little no-strings action when that’s exactly what he’d gone into the bar looking for earlier.
Most women he knew were not shy about coming forward and going after what they wanted. And Caitlin was no different. But she’d shown intriguing glimpses of someone far less...street smart and confident. And Liam hated that it caught at him...piqued his interest.
Damn. He needed to stay away from women for a while. Take a leaf out of her hippie aunt’s book—practice some meditation shit to divert his libido into some chakra or other.
He lifted his hands to run them through his hair and stopped midway when the scent of Caitlin’s arousal hit his nostrils, coming from his fingers. Hell. Liam stalked to the shower and turned it on full blast.
