"The name’s..." He looks down at his glass of whiskey then back at me. "Liam."
"How come you sound so unsure of that?"
"Because…alcohol." He gives me a crooked smile, and I giggle. "Hey, I'm improving."
"You are."
"Cheers to that then." He lifts his glass of whiskey, and I raise my shot of tequila.
"Cheers." We clink glasses and then toss them back. “Whoo.” I shake my head as the tequila burns down my throat.
Liam picks up the lime and places it to my lips. “Suck,” his husky voice croons. My lips wrap around the lime, and I suck the tart juices, my eyes never leaving his as I do so. “I have a feeling it’s going to be a good night, Holly.” He winks, and his thumb brushes across my bottom lip. I pucker against it, and he smirks. “Oh, yes, a very good night.”
The liquor starts to flow between us, and my somber man loses the wig sometime between the fourth and fifth drink. It turns out Liam is actually funny as the night goes on. He has been keeping me in stitches, and the weight he was carrying when he came in appears to be lifting slightly.
I also haven’t felt this relaxed in months.
Never in a million years would I let myself get this drunk in a bar and on top of it all with a stranger.
I have been so worried about following rules, making plans, sticking to my routine, I never let myself be so reckless.
Tonight, I want to break all the rules I made for myself, live a little. Take a chance, especially with Liam, who has been spending the whole night making me feel like the sexiest woman in the world.
I can't say how many times he's called me beautiful or found a reason to touch me or run his thumb across my lips.
Every brush of his fingers makes my skin ignite, and I’m desperate for more.
“So, what exactly are you doing here alone? I’m sure it didn't start that way for you,” I ask as I roam my finger over his bulging biceps.
“I got left behind too. I thought I was coming here to have fun. I needed it. It’s been a fucking rough…rough couple of months.”
“Do you want to talk about it?” I offer an ear. I can tell he needs it. Every time he looks down into that brown liquor, I swear he just wants to drown in it.
“I wouldn’t want to bore you with my problems. Plus, we are having fun.”
“You won’t bore me.”
“You’re too sweet to get weighed down with my problems.” He brushes my hair off my shoulder and rests his other hand on my hip.
“I don't mind. I'm a great listener.”
“I can think of something much more entertaining to do than having some heart to heart.”
“Yeah?” My lips wet as he moves in closer to me.
He pushes my legs apart with his knees and stands in between them. “Oh yeah. Do you want to have some fun, Holly?” My heart pounds in my chest and words escape me. The scent of the whiskey on his breath overtaking all my senses. “Are you going to say anything?”
I shake my head. Talking seems so overrated right now.
He leans into me, only millimeters from my lips, and I grab onto the edge of his vest demanding him closer. “How about this then?” His arm slips around my waist and he lifts me off the stool. His tongue traces over my lips, demanding I open, and I submit, allowing him in.
He moans down my throat. “Fuck, you taste good.”
The sounds of hoots and hollers pull me away from him reminding me of our very public display. “I really shouldn’t,” I murmur against his lips and place my hands on his firm chest to push him back.
“I really shouldn’t either, but I really want to.” He takes my bottom lip between his teeth. "You fucking captivated me tonight. I need this. One night with you.” His brown eyes blaze into mine.
"Just one night?" I swallow.
"One is all we need." He smirks, his fingers tracing over the curve of my ass. “I promise to make it memorable. Come up to my room with me.”
If you say no, I’ll kick your ass, some voice within me screams.
I nod, not willing to argue with my inner voice while at the same time losing myself in his lust-filled eyes.
“I need to hear you say it," he whispers, pressing a kiss to the side of my lips.
"Yes," I murmur.
Liam tells the bartender to put everything on his tab, and before I can protest, he’s pulling me into another hazing kiss.
This isn’t me. I have never been the girl who throws caution to the wind. I’m not reckless and I don’t do things on a whim.
I, Holly Jenkins, do NOT have one night stands. Especially not with total strangers I meet at the bar.
I date and let my heart be broken the natural way.
However, as Liam wraps his hands around my waist and leads me to the elevators, it isn’t my brain leading the game; it’s my libido begging for an orgasm from a man who looks like pure sex. Whose arms I've been staring at all night and every time his biceps flex my panties only got wetter. I want to live dangerously for once. I want Liam to take me on every inch of his hotel suite. Liam’s lips attach to the side of my neck as we fumble our way into his hotel room. Clothes go flying before the door has a chance to latch closed. My mind abandons all other thoughts as Liam lifts me to the dresser and his mouth attaches to my achy core.
The sun rises on the next morning, and I wake up naked and alone. Beside me is a note laying on the wrinkled white pillowcase.
I pull the sheet tight to my bare skin and unfold the note. With messy scribble, it reads:
Sorry I had to run and get to work. Room is paid for till 12.
Thanks for a great night. Last night was fun.
-Thor
I crumble up his note and throw it onto the floor.
Asshole.
What did I expect though? I knew what I was getting myself into the second Liam asked me to come up here. I knew he was trouble. My body aches all over, and as I fall back down to the bed, the memories of last night fill my mind. It was all worth it. I shower, dress, and make my exit into the muggy morning, doing the walk of shame back to my car, five blocks away.
CHAPTER ONE
LIAM
Three years later
Music drifts from the garden as I make my way to the deck that overlooks the crowd of mingling socialites, hoping for a moment of peace. I grab my bowtie and yank it loose from my neck. These black-tie events always make me feel as if I'm choking. Money hungry people at every corner nipping at my heels to get a piece of my action. I try to avoid these galas, but I've been forced here against my will by my parents. Though, I know I'm not completely wanted here and only been brought for show. My parents throw these lavish affairs every six months at their estate to make sure their names are always the talk of the elite crowd. It's how it's been since I can remember.
“Champagne, sir?” a pimple faced kid, not old enough to drink himself, offers.
“No,” I grunt, glaring at the kid, who stumbles back, making the drinks wobble. I have an urge to finish knocking them over. “Didn’t they tell you not to bother me?”
“I’m—no—I’m sorry, sir.” The kid tucks his head down and surges away.