“I like that about you,” Liam said.
“Thank you. Just remember it, should you ever get on my bad side,” Fi promised.
“I’d like to get… and stay… on your good side.” Liam measured a look heavy with meaning across the table at her and Fi almost rolled her eyes. Of course he would try and push his feelings away by pretending to flirt with her.
“Well, you know what they say is the best way to get over a broken heart…”
Liam smiled, a slow languid smile that had heat pulsing low in her stomach.
“What’s that, Fi?”
“A pub crawl with your mates. And seeing as I’m your only mate here at the moment, it’s on me to handle the job. Let’s get you a solid base of food, and then I’m taking you to play pool.” Fi let out a delighted laugh when Liam’s mouth dropped open.
“Pool.”
“Oh yes, pool. Or darts. But first, we need to find a proper pub, and some whiskey. Go on then, let’s get some food in you,” Fi said, gesturing to the steaming plates the waiter had just delivered to their table. “See if you can keep up.”
“Why do I feel like you’re about to drink me under the table?”
“Saddle up, boyo.”
Chapter 3
“The table’s not in the best shape,” Fi groused. They were in the tiniest corner pub she’d ever seen and she was inspecting the pool table, with its cracked and worn felt. In the corner sat one tired barman, chain-smoking and largely ignoring the tourists who peered in the door and then quickly moved on. Liam, fueled by about half a bottle of whiskey that Fi had all but poured down his throat at the last pub they’d been to, grabbed the cue from her hand.
“Looking for excuses already? Sounds liked you’re scared.” he said as he bent to rack the balls. The barman watched, a vague spark of interest flaring in his dull eyes.
“You don’t scare me, Liam. I was just commenting on the condition of the pool table.”
“Spoken like someone who doesn’t trust her pool game. I’ll have you know that I am quite a good shot,” Liam teased, wobbling a little, and narrowed his eyes at her.
“Christ, this’ll be like taking candy from a baby. You’re three sheets to the wind already.”
“Then you shouldn’t be having a problem with playing me.”
Fi rolled her eyes as the barman lazily flicked the switch on an old sound system. A low pulse of music filled the pub, and her skin tingled when Liam brushed past her.
“I just don’t think it’s a fair fight,” Fi warned.
“Noted,” Liam said, lazily chalking the cue. “You to break or me?”
“Have at it, handsome,” Fi smiled and choked down a laugh as he teetered on one foot, righted himself, and then managed to break the balls apart in a messy pattern on the table. What he lacked in finesse he surely made up for in enthusiasm, Fi decided as she studied the table.
“You didn’t get anything in,” she pointed out.
“Sure and you’ve an eye for details, don’t you, sweet Fi?” Liam raised an eyebrow at her.
“I’ll go stripes. Corner pocket,” Fi said, and set to working the table. Liam crowed as her first ball sank into the pocket. By the fifth, he’d gone silent.
“Seems like you may have played this a few times, Fi.”
“Here and there.”
“I’d say more than here and there.”
“Did I tell you I used to be in a league? I earned a lot of pocket money from those games.” Fi walked the table and studied her angles for her last shot. She kicked her foot up so Liam looked dumbly down at her soft leather boots. “Paid for extra purchases like these gorgeous leather boots.”
“Sure, those are some smart boots, Fi.” Liam winced as she bent over the table once more. “Aren’t you going to let me play at all?”
“You had your chance when I let you break.” With that, Fi shot the eight ball into the corner pocket – much to the delight of the barman, who clapped his hands and held up a bottle with a shot glass. “Looks like the winner gets a shot.”
“Damn it. I’ve been hustled by a wee wisp of a lass,” Liam grumbled, but then a wide smile broke across his handsome face and Fi caught her breath. Shaking her head, she hooked her arm through his. “Come on then. Shot’s on me.”
They’d stumbled their way through the windy streets that night, arms wrapped around each other, laughing so hard they cried. When they’d finally reached the door of the small flat Fi was renting, Liam had leaned against it, smiling down at her.
“There. Safely delivered home. I’ve done my duty,” Liam said.
The moment held and Fi looked up at him, the buzz of alcohol and something else holding her there, her gaze on his lips.
“Have you then? Is there anything else you’d like to do?”
“Aye, Fi, you’re testing me limits here,” Liam said, running a hand through his hair.
“I wonder just how far I can push them.” Fi leaned in and nipped at his lip, brushing hers lightly over his, before turning to unlock her door and push it open. “Will you be joining me then?”
Liam paused in the doorway, his head swinging between the street outside and the staircase up to her flat.
“I suppose it would be ungentlemanly of me not to see you all the way to your door,” Liam said, following her in.
Fi bit back a smile as they climbed the stairs in silence, the heat and nearness of him burning through her. Once at her door, she quickly unlocked it, then pushed it open and stepped inside, leaving him to decide. When she heard the door click behind her, she turned and smiled.
“Is this a bad idea?” Liam asked, looking huge in the tiny living room of her apartment.
“Likely,” Fi said, unzipping her coat and tossing it to the chair.
“I should go.”
“Probably.” She crossed to him and ran a hand up his chest.
“I like you, Fi.”
“I like you too, Liam.” Reaching up, she stood on her tiptoes to brush a kiss over his lips once more. Testing him.
“I don’t want you to stop liking me.”
“Then don’t do something that would make me stop liking you.” She reached for his hand, tugging him to her miniscule bedroom. A single bed lay tucked under a small window, and Fi flicked on the pretty beaded lamp on the dresser, making light dance across the ceiling like stars.
“Then I promise you’ll like this,” Liam said, his voice husky as he picked her up. Her breath rushed from her lungs in one excited gasp as he laid her on the bed. His mouth trailed down her neck, nuzzling into her collarbone, as he began to explore. Fi gasped, arching her neck backward, as his hands found her shirt and unbuttoned it. He pulled her wrists over her head, leaving them tangled in their sleeves. Prisoned there, unable to move or touch him, Fi arched once again as his mouth found her breast, naked beneath her shirt, and began a languid exploration.
Heat speared through her as he took his time at her breasts – an area many men bypassed, as she wasn’t particularly blessed in that department – and shivered as his teeth scraped a sensitive nipple. The man had a mouth dreams were made of, she decided. Wanting to touch him, she pushed against the hand that held her pinned. Instead, he moved further down her body, flicking the button of her pants open with one hand and tugging them down her hips.