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Her breath picks up, and then she spits. Intentional wetness hits me on the cheek.
I laugh and wipe it off with the hem of her cheap pink dress. “You want this more than I thought, don’t you, princess?”
She cackles. “What the hell is wrong with you? Seriously? How does me spitting in your face equal me wanting you?”
“Come on… you went to therapy school long enough to figure this one out. It’s simple.”
“Simple?Why don’t you explain it to me then, Freud? I’m not sure a country girl like me can figure this one out.” She’s sarcastic when she speaks.
I loosen the grip on her chin and straighten. “You’ll see soon enough. For now, you rest until you’re ready to tell me what’s wrong with your fiancé.”
She rolls her eyes. “Can you get me a drink? My mouth is dry.”
It pains me that she’s thirsty, but she doesn’t strike me as the kind of person that will hold on much past her limits. The woman thrives in comfort zones. Going thirsty for more than an hour will, for sure, get her talking. And when she does, I’ll quench her thirst.
Chapter Three
Beth
My mouth is dry, my bladder is full, and my stomach has been growling for at least an hour. I have half a mind to piss right here in this leather chair, but I suppose I’m not that barbaric… yet.
I haven’t seen Dex since we left Clearwater, but Liam hasn’t moved an inch. He sits in the chair opposite mine and reads a book. It’s something that was in the house already, a cowboy thing. I can’t clearly see the title in the dark room, but the shadow of a man on a horse is apparent. Is that all men’s fantasy? To wear a cowboy hat, sling guns around, and ride horses?
My stomach rumbles again, loud this time. Loud enough that Liam surely heard it from the other side of the room, but he doesn’t mention it. In fact, he ignores me completely.
Fuck. I’m Sicilian. We don’t go more than two hours without some bread or cheese. But maybe thinking like that is denouncing America.
Fuck. This fish and chips bastard has me questioning myself.
I scrape my tongue against the roof of my mouth as though trying to sponge out some liquid, but it’s no use. It’s dry as a bone. Unlike my panties, which are sopping wet. They have been since Liam had his big body bent over me talking about adventure and sex and blah, blah, blah.
He thinks he knows me so well. And while yes, I would like something more sexually, I love Bryan a lot. He’s smart, thoughtful, well educated, and he’s cute as hell in aDr. Whosort of way. Besides that, he’s my best friend.
“I have to piss,” I announce, straight faced.
Liam shrugs. “Go ahead, piss.”
“You want me to piss in this chair? I’ll ruin it, and the room will smell. Plus, you’d just be sitting there like a pervert watching me pee.”
“How do you know I’m not into that?” Why is everything the man says so evocative?
“Into what… watching people piss?”
“Maybe.”
“I’m not pissing in the chair,” I chide. “And I’m hungry and thirsty. I need something soon or I’m going to pass out.”
“You’re not going to pass out,” he says. “People fast for days all the time.”
“With water!You’re putting my body under a tremendous amount of stress. If you let me eat and drink, I’ll feel better, and I can rationalize giving you an answer.”
He shrugs and lifts his book back to his face. “Doesn’t work like that, princess.”
My full bladder presses against my will to survive. Two more minutes and I will pee right here in this chair… which is a look I decided to give up in the new year. “Fine! I’ll tell you… but it’s a long story. Can I pee first?”
He sets his book on the side table and looks toward me. “It’s not a long story. It’s simple. You tell me what’s wrong with Bryan, and I let you piss. One sentence.”
I rummage through my brain for an excuse. Anything to throw this sexy, annoying, brutal man off track, but his stare distracts me. Finally, for the sake of pissing, I say, “It’s not Bryan who’s sick. Can I go now?”
