Catching Liam (Good Girls Don't) (8 page)

chapter thirteen

I chose a horror movie, because it seemed like the right choice for our first date. I couldn’t think of anything worse than winding up at a sappy romantic comedy full of awkward moments. Those inevitably feature Happily Ever Afters, which was a bit presumptuous on a first date, if you asked me. Liam bought the tickets and held open the door for me, and every once in a while as we stood in line for popcorn, he’d lean over and kiss my forehead, sending flutters tumbling through my stomach.

“A large popcorn and chocolate-covered raisins,” Liam ordered. “Do you want candy?”

“You eat chocolate-covered raisins?” I asked.

“Says the girl obsessed with Chiclets.” His hand pressed against the small of my back, hot and strong, as he teased me.

The teenage cashier coughed politely, and I shook myself out of my daze.

“Those chocolate mint thingys,” I said to the kid.

“Is that the technical term?”

I stuck my tongue out at him, but he just grinned wider and slid his hand down to hook his thumb into the waistline of my jeans.

Liam paid and we grabbed our snacks. The theater lights had already dimmed by the time we made it into the very last row. As we tucked ourselves into the corner seats, I considered putting the armrest up between our seats or placing my hand on his leg or laying my head on his shoulder, but I couldn’t make myself move. I had forgotten how to be on a date. I had forgotten how horrible those in-between moments were when you first started going out with someone. Always waiting for a sign to make a move. The constant bumping together of hands like each person is daring the other to finally reach out and hold hands. I tugged at my shirt and adjusted my sweater, suddenly feeling warm and cold and confused at the same time.

Then Liam slung an arm over my shoulder and pulled me closer to him.

“Hold on,” he said, pushing the armrest up between the seats. “That’s better.”

I snuggled down next to him, watching the previews, feeling relieved. I wasn’t used to being the girl who didn’t know how to make a move. Kiss a boy? Sure. Flirt? I could totally handle it. But apparently seeing a movie was way out of my wheelhouse, and I didn’t like it. I slid my hand onto his thigh, close enough to his groin to feel a slight twinge of lust. Liam lifted my hand and put it back in my lap.

So that was how this date was going to go? Two could play that game. I sat up straighter, putting space between the two of us, but letting his arm dangle casually over my shoulder. Liam offered me the popcorn tub, but I shook my head, my eyes glued to the screen and a lump in my throat.

He leaned over and put his lips so close to my ear that his breath tickled my neck. “Don’t be mad, chicken.”

“I’m not mad,” I said too loudly, which elicited a shush from someone a couple rows away.

He pulled me back towards him, his strong arm wrapping possessively around my shoulders as his other hand turned my chin. As soon as our eyes met, I felt silly.

“It’ll be more fun this way,” he whispered. “I promise.”

“What will be more fun?” I asked in a low voice, narrowing my eyes and trying to still look put out by his rejection.

He answered me with his lips. His kiss was hard and demanding, and despite my every intention to play hard to get, my fingers reached for his chest. I trailed my hands down, my fingertips practically vibrating over his washboard abs, but when I got to his jeans, he reached down, his mouth still over mine, and brought my arms up to his neck. I forgot the slight instantly as his teeth caught my tongue ever so lightly. I moaned, and he drew me closer, pressing our mouths harder together, to stifle the noise. His lips trailed away from my mouth, sketching across my jawline and finding my ear. He nibbled at it, and I had to clamp my mouth shut. It would set a bad precedent if we got kicked out of every place we went to together.

“Like secondary school, remember?” he breathed to me.

I couldn’t help but remember the torture that was a high school date. There was always plenty of kissing and tongues and a fair bit of awkward groping. I’d even gotten the courage up to go down on my boyfriend senior year in a theater not unlike this one, but for the most part, a high school date was like being pumped full of aphrodisiacs and then put in separate glass boxes. There were always too many clothes and zippers and buttons.

But there was also the fear—of getting caught, of going one step too far. The fear was nearly as all-consuming as the hormones, and the fear made every single nerve in my body tingle with nervous anticipation. And then there was the possibility. That this would be the time he slipped his hand down my pants and magically knew exactly what to do. I could act shocked afterwards.

Liam and I were already well past this stage. I’d barely known his name when we covered all the old bases.

“I wouldn’t have had the guts to do this in high school,” I whispered to him, running a hand quickly over his crotch. I could feel that he was rock hard under his jeans, but Liam pushed my hand away again.

“You don’t want me to?” I asked.

“Oh, chicken, I want you to,” he said in a husky voice. “But I’ll be able to screw you six ways to Sunday if you keep your hands off me.”

So that’s what this was about. Suddenly I made contact with my inner, horny teenager. I’d been in these positions before, clenching my thighs together and kissing for so long that I almost ceased being able to breathe independently. Yes, it had been torture to hold back then, but I’d gotten pretty good at teasing myself. I reached for my box of chocolate mints and ripped open the top. On the screen, a girl was already running through the woods, inexplicably topless, but I didn’t care. Next to me, Liam shifted around in his seat, and I knew he was uncomfortable. I tilted my head toward him and popped a mint in my mouth, sucking off the chocolate coating. Liam raised an eyebrow, and I smiled at him, leaning over to kiss him. I kept the soft mint muddled under my tongue and opened my mouth against his, blowing ever so slightly into his mouth, my breath cold and hot at the same time. Liam’s hand clamped over my shoulder, but I tugged it down onto my breast. He might not let me touch him, but second base was clearly within high school make-out session territory. His fingers skimmed over it lightly, and then he flicked my nipple. It was an expert move. No boy I dated in high school would have had the skill to do that, which is why a loud moan slipped from my lips.

A head popped over the seat in front of us. “That is disgusting,” the woman chastised us. “Don’t you have any shame?”

“Ma’am,” Liam said in a polite tone, “there is a man currently dismembering someone in the film you chose to see. I could ask you the same thing.”

She gawked at him, her face frozen against the gruesome scene on the screen.

“Make love, not war,” I added.

She turned back in her seat and began whispering furiously to her friend, but neither of them turned back around.

“Should we go?” I asked him.

He shook his head. “New rule: mouths only.”

“I can do a lot of things with my mouth,” I said with an anticipatory bite of my lip.

He held a hand up to his throat. “Here and above,” he whispered.

“You’re no fun.”

“Believe me, this will be fun,” he said.

As it turned out, there is a lot more ground to cover at the neck and above than I had previously thought. With an hour of available study time, I learned that Liam was ticklish—two inches to the right of his collarbone to be precise; that having the spot behind my earlobe bit, licked, sucked, kissed, or hell, breathed on, sent my toes curling in my shoes and my legs pressing together; and that I could actually kiss a boy so long and so deeply that I forgot about wanting to have sex. The kiss with his fingers clutching my hair or his hands warm on my face was enough. And when the movie ended and the credits rolled, I didn’t want to leave our dark corner.

I just wanted to kiss him some more.

As the house lights came up, the woman in front of us turned to shoot us a dirty glance.

“I hope you two enjoyed your evening,” she snapped, saddling her way through the seats toward the aisle.

“Oh, it’s not over yet,” I called after her. “He promised to screw me six ways to Sunday.”

The women scurried out of the theater as Liam stood and pulled me up.

“My place?” I asked.

“Not yet,” he said, kissing me softly. “Ice cream.”

He grabbed my hand as we exited the theater. It was so easy and natural for him that all of my earlier paranoia seemed to vanish.

“So you like horror movies?” he asked.

“Not particularly,” I admitted with a laugh.

“Then why did we see a horror movie?”

“I didn’t think our plans including watching the movie.” I knocked my hip against his good-naturedly.

“I did imply that.”

“You not only implied it,” I said. “You followed through.”

Liam caught me with his free arm and swept me into his arms, spinning me around once before depositing me onto my feet.

It was the kind of thing that only happens in the bad romantic comedies I’d avoided so carefully when I picked the movie. Now I was living in one. Of course, those movies never had any sex in them, so we already had them beat.

“It’s quiet tonight.” Liam urged me along, bringing me out of my thoughts and back to him.

“Sunday is truly a day of rest around here. Everyone is still recovering from Friday and Saturday,” I said.

“I hope Coffee & Cream is still open,” he said.

“No coffee shop would dare to close down before midnight in this town,” I reassured him. I’d been shocked at the sheer number of coffee shops and shacks when I’d come here three years ago from California. I’d once seen two kids selling espresso shots at a makeshift coffee stand instead of lemonade. There was no way the premier—meaning closest to campus—Olympic Falls coffee shop would be closed.

We walked through downtown Olympic Falls under the glow of street lamps. Only restaurants and coffee shops were open this late on a Sunday night, so the streets were clear of the usual bar crowd. I’d never been out when it was this quiet, and between the softly lit shopfronts and the bay glistening with moonlight in the distance, there was magic in the air.

I stopped and lifted my eyes to the stars. “No matter where you stand in Olympic Falls, it always looks like you could reach right up and pluck one from the darkness.”

“What would you do with it?” he asked.

“Make a wish,” I said in a soft voice. I turned into him and wrapped my arms around his waist, pushing up on my tiptoes to kiss him. Liam’s hand cradled my head as he held me to him. Our bodies didn’t fight to get closer as we pressed our lips together. This kiss was nothing more than a wish.

chapter fourteen

Coffee & Cream hummed with the energy of a dozen laptops but was fairly quiet otherwise. Sunday night was always little dead at the spots near campus. Monday and Tuesday were the most well-attended class days of the week, and people were busy catching up with the coursework they had put off over the weekend. The coffee shop was a mish-mash of couches and chairs. I imagined it had been decorated during the height of the
Friends
frenzy and not much had changed since then. A large chalkboard listed fifty different espresso drinks and today’s available ice creams. We wandered up to the counter and peered into the glass case.

“Does anyone really eat green tea ice cream?” Liam asked me.

“Oh, I love it.” I waved for the girl behind the counter to give us a sample. I held it up to Liam, and he opened his mouth apprehensively. As soon as it hit his tongue, he grimaced and swallowed it hard.

“You like that?” he asked.

“Don’t your people eat haggis?” I tossed the sample spoon into a Dixie cup.

“Not if we can help it.”

He ordered a dark Mexican chocolate, and I got the offending green tea—both to go. As we turned to head back to my apartment, we ran directly into Professor Markson.

“Miss Nichols. Mr. McAvoy. Have a nice weekend?” he asked. He was juggling a hefty-looking briefcase and a steaming mug of coffee, but there was a slight smirk on his face. He was probably enjoying catching us together after all the grief I’d given Liam so far this semester.

“It’s not over yet, sir,” Liam said, sliding an arm around my waist.

“I’ll expect to see you both in class on Tuesday,” Markson said, and I could almost swear he winked at Liam. “If you aren’t too busy.”

“I’m sure we can drag ourselves out of bed to be in class.”

I smacked Liam’s shoulder, my face on fire.

“Out of our beds. Plural. As in two. As in separate,” Liam corrected. It only made me blush deeper.

Markson didn’t bother to hide his smile. “I think you both still have a ways to go in your communication skills.”

“We’ve learned a lot already. Haven’t we, chicken?”

I wanted to melt into a puddle on the floor and seep through the tiles. Had he really just called me chicken in front of a professor that took an inordinate amount of joy in embarrassing me?

“I will see you both on Tuesday then,” Markson said, scooching past us to an unoccupied couch.

“Can you not call me chicken in front of people set on making my life a living hell?” I asked Liam as he opened the shop’s door for me.

“Are there a lot of people who make your life hell?”

“Let me rephrase that: can you not call me chicken in front of other people?” I was only just getting used to the nickname myself, and I could only imagine how horrible it would be to have Cassie and Jess pick up on the nickname. Or even worse, someone like my mother.

“‘Kay, chicken.” He sealed the deal with a quick brush of his lips over my forehead.

As soon as we got back to my apartment, I did a quick check for Jess, but she was still out at study group. That girl seriously needed to get a life. Maybe if she had found a boyfriend with a real personality, she wouldn’t spend all of her time reading medical textbooks. I grabbed a ceramic frog from the cabinet and set it on the counter.

“Redecorating?” Liam asked as he pulled two spoons from the drawer.

“It’s a secret code,” I told him. Jess and I had established the ceramic frog as a way to communicate that one of us had a boy over. We hadn’t used it much lately. Not because we weren’t getting any action, even though I hadn’t brought a boy home since Liam. We had just fallen into a comfortable routine, but I knew Jess would be dying for details of my date as soon as she got in. I didn’t really want her to pop her head into my room tonight though.

I had plans.

“Like espionage?” Liam asked. He picked up the frog and studied it as though it would reveal its secrets if he looked long enough.

“I don’t want her to, uh, interrupt us.” I blushed again and was immediately annoyed with myself. Jillian Nichols didn’t blush, and yet I’d been doing just that since I met him. What was it about Liam that brought out this giggly, flushed girly side of me?

I excused myself to the bathroom. After popping my meds and doing a few stretches, I stared into the mirror. I’d never consciously come into the bathroom knowing that the guy I was with would be here in the morning. If I was going to bed on a normal night, I would take off my makeup. Maybe I would throw my bra on the floor. But he was going to be here when I walked out the bathroom door, and I knew he would be there in the morning, maybe even making me breakfast, when I woke up. I grabbed my face wash and scrubbed off my makeup. I slathered some lotion on my face, a remnant from when Cassie lived across from us. She was obsessed with facial care.

The girl looking back at me from the mirror wasn’t the usual vixen that brought home boys. There was no coral lipstick or carefully applied eyeliner, but she was fresh with slightly pink cheeks. I felt naked like this, more exposed than I’d ever really let a boy see me. I thought briefly about taking off my bra, but decided there was no need to get too comfortable.

Liam was in my bedroom when I came out. I sucked in a breath at the sight of him. He’d pulled off his shirt and was lounging on the bed in his jeans. Two spoons lay across his chiseled abs, and he held up a pint of ice cream. But when his eyes met mine, they widened and his lips parted slightly.

“You should never wear makeup,” he told me.

I covered my face with my hands. He’d noticed that I’d taken it off.

“Don’t,” he said in a low voice. “You look so unbelievably sexy. I’m afraid we won’t be getting any sleep tonight.”

“I usually don’t eat in bed,” I said to him, suddenly feeling flustered.

“That’s a shame, because I’m going to have to break that rule.”

I put my hands on my hips. “You are, huh?”

“Do you wear pantyhose?” he asked me.

“This just took a strange turn,” I said, not hiding my confusion.

“Or scarves?” he suggested.

“That I have.” I dug into my closet and tossed him a few.

“Perfect,” he said. He stood up, abandoning the scarves and the spoons and drew me roughly to him. His mouth settled over my neck, biting down lightly where it curved into my shoulder. I slid my arms around him and ran my hands over his tight back as shivers raced through my body. He pulled back and stared into my eyes, and I couldn’t look away. The blue of his eyes was so deep that I thought I might drown in them. I felt like a swimmer at sea, being pulled under by the tide. I was losing myself in him, and I was helpless to stop it.

His fingers snaked under my shirt, my skin blazing where he touched me as he tugged off my sweater. Then he unsnapped my jeans and pushed them down to my ankles. I stepped out of them, never once looking away from him as his eyes burned into my own. But once I was down to my thong and bra, he took a step back. His eyes travelled down my body and I felt it. I’d never been studied this way before. His gaze lingered slowly as it journeyed all the way down to my calves.

I reached out to unbutton his pants, but his hand caught my wrist as he shook his head.

“I need you on the bed now.” There was a hunger in his words that sent a quiver through my core. Liam nudged me gently toward the bed, and then he was on top of me, his lips covering mine possessively. He pinned my wrists over my head and then I felt a scarf wrap around one of them. My eyes flew open in surprise.

“What are you doing?” I asked. “Are we getting all Fifty Shades up in here?”

He shushed me. “Nothing that dangerous. You won’t need a safe word.”

“It’s considered polite to ask a woman before you tie her up,” I reminded him.

“Jillian, I would like to spend the next hour giving you the greatest sixty minutes of your life,” he said softly.

My knees trembled at the thought as nearly every muscle in my body tensed with anticipation at his offer.

“Can I tie you up?” he asked me.

I wet my lips with my tongue and nodded.

“And I’d like to cover up those beautiful eyes,” he added.

“I like to see you.” The confession escaped my lips before I could hold it back.

“You will, chicken. I promise. But trust me, please.” He brushed a strand of hair from my face and laid a soft kiss on my lips.

“Okay,” I said with some apprehension. The thing about one-night stands was that they weren’t all that creative when it came to foreplay. I’d never let a guy tie me up, let alone blindfold me. My stomach did a little flip as he wrapped a scarf around my hands. Once. Twice. Three times. I heard him slide the scarf around the bars of my cheap, IKEA headboard, and my hands hit the cold metal as he tied me to it. He lifted my head gently and placed a scarf under it.

“Wait,” I said.

He paused, and I took in his face—the strong curve of his jaw, his messy hair, the slight crookedness of his nose—and his body, hovering like a perfect statue over me. I arched my back, trying to raise my head to his for a kiss.

“None of that, chicken,” he whispered as he brought his lips to mine. Our mouths crushed together, leaving me breathless and panting. I was totally at his mercy. He looked into my eyes as he drew the scarf over them. He wrapped it around again, tying it off in a soft knot behind my head.

“No safe word, Jillian, but if you want to stop, just say so,” he whispered into my ear.

Between being trapped under him and the hotness of his lips against my ear, I was just ready to get started. I felt a familiar frenzy pulsing between my legs as he lingered over my body, barely touching me.

I couldn’t see him, but I could sense him, and then I felt his fingers pluck at the straps of my lacy, red bra.

“This is so, so sexy, chicken, but I want to see them.” He twisted the front closure, and I felt the air hit my nipples as he opened my bra wide. I waited for him to touch them. I wanted him to, but he moved down instead, his body heat gliding over me. There was no contact, and I squirmed against the scarves.

“Be patient,” he whispered.

“You’re not the one tied up,” I told him, adding silently,
and totally revved up
.

He chuckled lowly as he hooked his thumbs under my thong and wrenched it over my knees and off me entirely. I spread my legs a little, eager for him, but he pushed them back together. The heat of his body disappeared entirely, and I felt cold and exposed.

“If this is a joke…” I warned him, but my threat was met with a harsh shush.

And then he was back over me, and my body tensed, ready, for his lips and his hands. Ice ricocheted through my nerves as something cold and wet dripped down between my breasts. I moaned and bucked up, but his hand held me down as more of the cold liquid drizzled over my nipples.

“What is that?” I murmured.

“Dessert, baby.” And then heat burst against the chill as his tongue licked across the ice cream. He licked it up with long strokes, starting between my breasts and circling up in slow, even motions upward. His tongue flicked against my already hard left nipple, and then he brought his mouth over it, licking and sucking it against his teeth. I gasped as the throb between my legs ratcheted up a notch. He moved to the next one, and I pulled against the scarves. I wanted to wrap my arms around him. I wanted to force him between my legs, but Liam’s bindings held.

“I’m not done,” he warned me. I melted into a mix of anticipation and longing at his words.

The spoon drew a biting line down my stomach, circling around my navel, and Liam’s tongue followed in a trail of fire with one extended stroke downwards. He lingered at my belly button as one of his hands pushed my legs apart. I waited, biting down on my lip. He had me panting now, but nothing happened.

And then his tongue plunged into me, cold and hot at the same time, sending the first waves of pleasure off like emissaries sent to bring back the full onslaught. As quickly as it started, it disappeared, and I was left feeling bare and unsatisfied.

“Don’t stop,” I begged.

“I won’t,” he promised. His lips kissed along the edge of my bikini line. If my hands were free, I would push him down and make him finish what he started, but I was at his mercy.

And Liam knew it.

“I feel like I could stay here all day, looking at you like this.”

“Stop using ‘I’ statements,” I snapped. “You’re driving me crazy.”

“Good.” There was a smile in his voice. He was enjoying this. Not just seeing me spread before him but making me wait, like I made him wait so long for me.

“Please,” I whimpered.

“Since you asked nicely.” His mouth closed over me, his tongue forcing me open to him. He stroked me deep and hard with his tongue, and I felt my muscles tightening. My hands gripped the headboard and I held on as he fucked me with his mouth.

“Do. Not. Stop!” I cried in one breath. His finger slipped into me, thrusting me over the edge as he sucked me hungrily.

My body split and knit together as I bucked against his mouth. I couldn’t reach out to stop him and the pressure built up, pleasure cascading in surges through my body. It was relentless, and I never wanted it to end. But even as I held my body rigid, trying to linger in the moment, I shattered again as I called his name, my legs clamping him to me.

Liam pried my thighs from his head and rested it on my bare belly. He breathed in hot pants against my skin, and I wanted to reach down and pull him to me. Pull him into me.

I heard him get up and then water running in the bathroom. I didn’t care that I was naked, tied up and covered in sticky ice cream. I cared that he was gone. But then he came back, climbing in over me. He tugged the knot of the blindfold and pulled it off. I blinked against the light.

“Are you going to untie me?” I asked him. I wanted the use of my hands so that I could rip his jeans off.

“I’m considering it,” he said with a devilish smile.

“Less considering, more doing,” I urged.

“But I like this. Jillian is caught,” he murmured. He brought his wicked smile within centimeters of mine, but he didn’t kiss me. I could smell mint on his breath. His body still hovered carefully over me, not letting us touch.