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“I wouldn’t... put it like that, exactly.” I took a step, then two. Liam was a sculpted masterpiece stretched out in that chair—his Caddell pants molded to his calves, and shirt open at the chest. His beauty crushed me... because it couldn’t be mine. “It was one of those ‘write an angry letter and don’t send it’ situations. I never meant for you to see it.”
Liam crooked a brow. “So, you didn’t mean what you said? You don’t want me to strum your clit till it sings, bend you over my couch, or fuck your pussy—”
“Liam, stop,” I cried, clapping my hands over my face. “I’m sorry, okay. If your goal is to humiliate me—mission accomplished. Can we forget this ever happened?”
“I don’t think so.” His deep baritone rolled out of his chest. “Kneel.”
“Excuse me?”
“You heard me. Come over here. Kneel.”
Confused, I slowly closed the distance. Stopping short of his armchair, I dropped to my knees as he got to his feet.
“Look at that.” He tangled in my hair, leaning my head back. “I had no trouble getting you on your knees.”
My mouth opened and nothing came out. What did he just say? What is happening right now?
“Want to know what your accidental text did to me, Miss Blaine?” Liam circled me, his hand dropping beneath my chin, and keeping my eyes on him all the while. “I didn’t get a minute’s sleep.”
“Why?” I rasped.
“Because I’d close my eyes and one line of your message would pop in my head. Next thing I know my hand’s in my boxers and I’m jacking off to the first, second, third, and fourth best tugs of my life.”
A strangled noise escaped my lips. I couldn’t have heard what I thought I did. It wasn’t possible Liam Hunt confessed he spent the night masturbating to fantasies of me.
The air thickening with my arousal proved he did.
“So, now we have a problem, Mackenzie.”
“We do?”
Liam’s hand traveled down, slipping inside my iridescent cutout-back minidress, skimming the top of my bra cup. My breath trapped in my lungs. I would pass out—from his touch or lack of oxygen, either way, I would sink into dark bliss.
“Yes, we do. You’re in my head now. Whispering filthy promises through your bee-stung lips. Teasing me in a dripping wet bikini. Crouching on your hands and knees, ass in the air—daring me to get a taste.”
He traced a pattern between my chest.
An X. Liam’s X branded above my heart, marking his next conquest.
“I can’t get a thing done. Can’t focus without drifting back to that text, and craving to prove I’ll win your challenge. So, yes, we do have a problem, Mackenzie, ’cause I have to get you out of my system.”
“Liam,” I whispered.
He towered over me, dominating my world with Liam, Liam, Liam.
Then he disappeared.
My blood thrummed as he blindfolded me with his tie. A million awkward situations tormented me since that text pinged his phone, but this never crossed my mind.
I couldn’t see him, though I felt Liam around me, stroking my throat, thudding the floor as he dropped, grasping my zipper. Liam peeled my dress off and sucked in a sharp intake of breath.
He unwittingly unwrapped another Kenzie Lingerie Creation. My recent change in relationship status with Sunny prompted an end to my granny panty days, and the return of lace thongs and sheer bodysuits. We hadn’t been together long and Sunny managed to have me out of my clothes for more hours in the day than I was in them. I wanted Sunny to get a new treat every time he unzipped me, but that morning’s treat was taken by Liam.
A blue bralette weaved in bright lilac roses twined around my breasts, drawing his eyes to my hardening nubs—its wanton need displayed for all to see through the sheer tulle. My boy shorts were no better—made of all tulle bearing only embroidery on the sides, they left nothing to the imagination.
“You are”—his tongue tasted my neck, making me gasp—“exquisite.”
“No one has ever called me exquisite before.”
I shook like a leaf—trembling down to my toes. Something about not seeing him or knowing what he’d do next left me helpless in the best way. He was well named as Liam Hunt.
I was his prey.
“Because you’ve been with boys before.” My bra popped and fell to the floor with a soft sound, covered by my squeak. “A real man would’ve told you every day that you’re a masterpiece.”
“Ah!” Liam swept me into his arms. I had the brief sensation of being carried, then something cool pressed against my stomach.
Leather. Liam bent me over the couch, and ripped hours of painstaking, delicate work off my body. I had a second to register the cold air on my cheeks, before a firm swat zinged my left butt cheek.
“Liam,” I cried.
“Won’t have the balls to go near your ass, am I getting that right? Couldn’t find your pussy with a map and a flashlight?” He stroked my lower lips, discovering their wet secret, and teased inside. “Looks like I found it.”
