Three to Tango (20 page)

“You running out that evening hurt because it was what
he
did. All I wanted was to make things better for both of you.”

“No one could have done that. Not really.”

“I wanted to try,” he said stubbornly.

But how much did you want to?
she thought.
Enough to love Shay the same way that he loved you? Enough to forgive me for not being able to choose only one of you?

She bit her lip, her feelings too raw to expose right then. She’d never explained that last part to Liam. She’d let him think embarrassment alone was behind them drifting apart. She turned her gaze to the distant door of his apartment, her heart clenched tight for what she’d lost. All the old problems still lay between them, the tangle of loyalties she couldn’t figure how to unknot. Liam was a traditional man. Chelsea could pretend she was, if it was important enough, but her nature was always going to be more complex.

Liam drew her from her thoughts by giving her shoulders an exasperated squeeze.
“Chel.”

“Do you hear from Shay?” she asked in a tiny voice.

Emotions flickered across his features. With more patience than she deserved, he tucked an errant curl back behind her ear. “We see him at Christmas. And for Mom’s birthday. Even Shay wouldn’t break her heart and miss that.”

“I hear his carpentry shop in Boston is doing well.”

A smile tugged at Liam’s mouth. “I guess you’ve been keeping track.”

“Googling,” she admitted, then forced herself to go on. “He was important to me, Liam. He was the first friend I made after I lost my parents—my best friend, really. I wouldn’t forget either one of you.”

“He was my best friend, too.”

Chelsea guessed Shay had been more than his brother. When he’d decided to leave home at eighteen and support himself, it couldn’t have been easy for Liam. Feeling for him, she stroked the warm skin of his temple, beside the sweet green eyes that were welling up with sincerity. Falling for this man again would be as easy as falling off a log.

She didn’t expect the frustration that twisted across his face.

“I can’t,” he said, his grip suddenly capturing her wrist like iron.

“You can’t what?” The question was breathy for more reasons than surprise. His body crowded hers against the island, so much taller, so much
maler
, that she didn’t want to break free. Something long and hot was nudging at her belly, something thick and insistent. All her pent-up longings melted like butter.

“I miss you, too,” he said, as if it were an accusation. “When I heard your voice on the phone, I swear my heart turned over. I miss you loving me, and I miss being in love with you. My life is good now. I have friends and a job I love. Every day, I get to accomplish things I’m proud of. Part of me, though, never came back to life after you left. I can’t still be worrying about Shay’s feelings if there’s even a chance of making this work with you.”

Chelsea’s hormones were short-circuiting her brain. And maybe her heart was, too.
Don’t hurt him,
she ordered sternly.
Be sure of what you’re doing.
“We … I … I can’t deny it touches me to hear you say that, but—”

“Look, I get why you’re nervous. We haven’t been together in a long while. I know you’re probably thinking we need to get to know each other as we are now.”

She
was
thinking that, but it wasn’t the whole story.

“We could wait until the job is done,” she offered tentatively. “It’d be awkward if we started dating and then broke up.”

Liam wagged his head. “I’d go crazy seeing you every day. You don’t know what you do to me. I’ll swear on anything you want that, no matter what, I’ll help you turn that house into a palace, but please don’t make me wait six months to do this.”

She thought he was going to kiss her, but instead he pulled her gently against him, decimating her defenses by the simple act of enveloping her in his arms. He was warm and big and his hold seemed like the only real home she might have left. He bent his neck until his lips were against her hair. “I missed you, Chelsea, so fucking much you wouldn’t believe it.”

His roughly uttered words were almost too sweet to trust. Because she wanted to, she wrapped her arms around him with more strength than probably was wise.

“I’d believe it,” she said into his hard chest. “I felt so stupid, not being able to forget you in all this time.”

He groaned, not only for what she’d said, but because their aroused bodies were pressed so closely together. His sweat smelled good, as did his faint aftershave. His hands roamed her back, almost ventured onto her ass, and—after an instant’s hesitation—slid up to massage her shoulder blades again.

That he wanted to be bolder was obvious.

“Chelsea,” he said, his face nuzzling her neck. His heart was pounding as his lungs moved shallowly in and out.

When he did no more, she realized it was up to her. He wasn’t going to push her. She let her own hands roam and turned her mouth toward his.

Their lips found each other on a mutual gasp. The kiss started sweet, but soon it grew deep and hard, their tongues relearning each other to the music of hungry moans. As Chelsea wriggled to press her itches to the right spots, Liam apparently decided he was permitted to hold her butt.

“Chel,” he panted, his fingers kneading forcefully through her jeans. “Is this just a kiss we’re having? Do you want me to stop?”

He’d leaned his forehead on hers to ask. Her body trembled from wanting him, her hands knotting in the front of his yellow shirt as if secretly planning to rip it off. Did she have to solve
everything
before she did this? Couldn’t she just enjoy the moment?

“I don’t want you to stop,” she said. “Not for anything.”

He’d been holding back before when they kissed. Now he devoured her, hauling her up and using his weight to pin her against the front of his fancy European refrigerator. He ground his hard-on into her, groaning at the give of her pussy beneath her jeans.

Chelsea tore the tails of his shirt out of his trousers. His back was sweating as she drove her hands under it. Taking this as permission to do the same, Liam shoved up her top, hitched her higher, and sucked half her breast into his mouth through her bra.

Chelsea choked out a strangled cry. Her nipples had always been a hot zone for her, and Liam wasn’t shy about suckling them.

“Get undressed,” she pleaded as he switched sides to nip the other. The pressure of his teeth was perfect. Her hips bucked tighter against him. “God, Liam, don’t waste time.”

His eyes were burning as he pulled back. “I remember this,” he said thickly. “I remember how fucking hot to go you were.”

She didn’t know how to be insulted, especially since
he
seemed so exultant. He let her slide down him, let her measure the rock-hard ridge thrusting out the front of his pants. To her relief, once she was on her feet, he started tearing off his clothes.

They both wrestled themselves down to their underwear: she in scraps of pink push-up lace, he in gray boxer briefs. Chelsea’s underwear wasn’t always so fancy. Considering how she felt about Liam, her “just in case” choice seemed justified. Once she saw how good he looked, she was grateful. In truth, she was having some trouble breathing. Liam was a big guy, and his abs were Greekstatue good, his long muscular legs fuzzed with the same dark gold hair that graced his forearms. Between lay Chelsea’s idea of porn. Liam’s briefs stretched over his erection, the shape of it stark and clear. The blood-flushed head poked above his waistband, pre-come glistening in the slit. He looked up from disrobing to gawk at her. Though Chelsea knew her job kept her in good shape, she wasn’t prepared for his reaction.

“Jesus,” he cursed. “You’re even sexier than I remember.”

She didn’t have time to thank him. He was on her in a second, scooping her up to carry her down a hall.

“I have a bed,” he said as she clung to him. “A big, soft bed with a sturdy frame.”

She laughed and hugged him, nothing in her in that moment but lust and joy.

He wasn’t laughing, but she didn’t mind that, either. With a look of intense sexual purpose, he tossed her onto his mattress, pushed his dampened underwear down his legs, and crawled over her like a wolf in man form.

The blistering French kiss he gave her nearly burned her lips off.

“Liam,” she groaned when he broke long enough for air. His weight was on her, and she had to struggle to kick free of her panties.

Liam rose to his elbows and snapped her out of her bra. His cock throbbed along her thigh as if it were drumming her. His callused hands smoothed over her now-bare breasts, shaping them lovingly. Chelsea’s body stretched like a cat.

To her surprise, he didn’t move to take her.

“I gave up,” he stopped to admit, though she was so ready she was melting. “The night you ran out on me in that restaurant, I finally gave up. Up till then, I’d assumed we’d be together again someday. For seven years, I kept myself together by believing it would happen.”

“I’m here now,” Chelsea said, covering the hands that caressed her breasts.

He shook his head, unconvinced. “I went home that night and got very drunk. Missed my first day on a site in years. You didn’t know you were doing it, but—by God—you devastated me.”

“I didn’t mean to.”

“I know.” He smiled, just a little. “And it’s not like I told you what I was hoping for.” His thumbs circled her nipples, drawing them painfully tight. His expression was still haunted. “I need so much from you now it scares me.”

Liam being afraid was no small event. He was one of the least dramatic people she knew. She rubbed her leg reassuringly along his. “Tell me what you need. If I can, I’ll give it to you.”

She could see him wondering if he dared open himself that way. The question he ended up asking wasn’t what she expected. “Are you using contraception?”

“Yes,” she said, “but—”

“I’m healthy,” he said. “I swear I’d never lie to you about that.”

She trailed one fingertip around the smile line framing his serious mouth. “I know you wouldn’t.”

Her trust caused his eyes to darken. He let his chest sink to hers, the meeting of hard to soft, of smooth to hairy delicious. Then, with his gaze locked on hers, he dragged his big body over hers—inches up, inches down—his naked skin to hers.

“I want to be bare inside you,” he said gruffly.

It seemed important. “Yes,” she said. “Take me any way you want.”

He didn’t waste time making sure she meant it. He rolled them deftly onto their sides. Even as her breath caught, his hand smoothed down the back of her thigh. When he reached her knee, he curved his fingers behind the bend, pulling up until her leg bracketed his thigh. The combined heat of their groins was incredible.

“Feel me go in,” he growled.

She couldn’t help but feel him. His big rounded tip was heated silk parting her wet folds. He probed, then pushed, and then a groan ripped out of her throat.

“Oh God,” she gasped, fingers clutching him as her eyelids closed.

No one else filled her like he did. No one trembled with awe as he slid inside. She moaned in protest when he backed his hips off before reaching the end of her. She knew she was tight, but she wanted them joined so badly she thought she’d cry.

“Chel,” he said, stroking her side to soothe her. “Give yourself a minute to get used to me.”

“I feel like I don’t have a minute.”

He laughed as if he didn’t have enough air. “Then give
me
a minute. You feel so good; if I’m not careful, I’m going to go before you.”

That brought her eyes open. His face
was
strained, his cock extremely full and hard inside her, though he wasn’t penetrating her completely. She slid her hands up his back, then took him by surprise by pulling his body on top of hers. He gasped, the shift in weight doing what he’d been too cautious to. As her pussy took all of him, all either of them could do for a couple seconds was squirm with intense pleasure.

“Don’t worry,” she panted, once she was able. “I’m not going to take long.”

He swallowed, moved his hips so that they pressed hers harder, and reached up to brace one hand on his platform bed’s wide headboard. Chelsea took her own grip on his hard, muscled waist. They needed no words then. His eyes told her what hers probably told him: that it had been a long wait for this. With one last pause for air, he drew back and started plunging in so strongly she knew she hadn’t exaggerated her readiness.

Her neck arched back as very welcome sensations rocketed through her nerves. Oh, she remembered this: being so excited that she didn’t have to be coaxed, knowing her partner was utterly there for her. Freed from any worry that she’d respond, she raced for the finish, loving the harsh cries her abandon called from him.

His hand clamped over her bottom, his teeth clenching. Wanting him even deeper, Chelsea tried to stretch her thighs wider.

“Come,” she urged, feeling the giant climax well up in her.

“After … you,” he said between grunts.

“
With
me.” She was so close she was panting, her inner muscles wanting desperately to clutch down on him. If they did, she knew the friction would be too good not to fly over.

Liam’s hips pumped faster. He tried to say something and couldn’t. He was going deeper, harder, his balls beginning to slap her despite how tight they were.

“Do it,” she said, fists clenched at the small of his back. “Shoot your seed into me.”

She’d hit on the right demand. This was the secret thing he’d wanted when he’d asked to take her bare: to mark her in the most primitive way men could. His thrusts turned uneven as she pressed the button, then sped up even more. He growled from trying to restrain his climax, his expression twisted like the pleasure was killing him.

“Feel me,” she goaded. “Feel how wet my pussy is twitching on your cock.”

He shouted and she went over at the same time—hard, bright spears of bliss that had her sheath tightly fisting him. He must have liked it. He was flooding her, or maybe it was the other way around. She spilled over with heat and pleasure, but he didn’t stop driving in and out, making muffled noises like he was still hungry. Only when she came a second time, even harder, did he let his weight relax over her.