Liam nodded, completely transfixed, staring out at the water where a riverboat that carried passengers passed one of the fire pits in the middle of the river. The fire had already been lit, and a man in the boat leaned over the fire to add wood to it.
“How many fires do you think there are?” His gaze traveled down the river to each of the fire pits.
“I think I read somewhere that there are over one hundred.”
“This is incredible.”
I nodded. Living in Providence, I could easily take this stuff for granted and forget it was there. “I guess you’d call it a spiritual communal ritual. It was created in the midnineties as a symbol of Providence’s renaissance.” I didn’t pretend to know more than what I’d heard over the years, and Liam didn’t question the art of it all. He simply leaned into the night show and watched as the soundtrack changed and more boats traveled by.
The crowds thickened, packing in around us, and Liam gave up his spot at the balcony for a family and stood behind me. Somehow, above all the senses that WaterFire captured, all I could see, hear, smell, or feel was Liam. He wrapped his arms around my middle and pressed his lips to my cheek, causing me to smile and sneak a peek at him over my shoulder.
He wore that intense gaze again. The one that, back at the café, told me we were on the verge of kissing. But this time, when I started to close the distance, he closed it first.
13
Liam
She tasted like campfire and wine—smoky, hot, and completely capable of making me drunk after one taste.
I grazed her bottom lip with my teeth, my head spinning with visions of Chelsea wrapping those same lips around other parts of me, especially the part of me that was twitching below my belt. It was no longer possible to be cautious with my thoughts or hands or mouth—to save her any more than I ought to save myself from a fling that could only end in disaster. All I wanted was this moment and the next, all with her, all of her. What would happen in two weeks or a month didn’t matter. What she still didn’t know about me could wait. Nothing mattered except for this kiss that sparked the air like the flames that licked the river water below us.
With my hands on her waist, I spun her body to face me, then I palmed the back of her neck, pulling her deeper into a kiss that I never wanted to end. She clung to me, her fingers gripping my sides like she needed the leverage to keep herself upright. When her tongue darted out, slipping between my lips and touching mine, I groaned and grew harder between her legs.
I pulled away, sucking in a breath and searching her eyes. They were glazed over, her mouth parted, and even under the night sky, I could see pink staining her cheeks. She was glowing, beautiful, and I knew I wouldn’t be able to stand in that park another minute without ripping off her clothes.
“Want to get out of here?”
She nodded quickly, and I smiled before pulling her from the balcony to the riverwalk, where we rushed back to the car. Once we were inside, I leaned over the console, stealing another kiss as she tried to start her car. I placed my hand between her thighs and squeezed her bare leg, growling when I realized it would be at least another ten minutes before I could take off every scrap of fabric that kept us apart.
She let out a light laugh, this time successfully starting the car. I threw myself back into my seat, groaning at the erection still fighting my pants.
When we got on the road, I calmed down a little, enough to switch on the music to distract me from the sexy woman behind the wheel. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d been so turned on, so desperate to get a woman naked. On British Bachelor, I’d made out with plenty of the women, nearly all of them, in fact. But I’d only gotten close to sleeping with two of them. In the end, I’d slept with none of them, something the viewers would never in a million years believe.
Every single viewer who commented on my social media accounts before I shut them down had something to say about “guys like me” who just went on the show to “get Insta-famous” and “rich.” None of those comments applied to me, but no one would look deep enough to know the truth. Instead, the women from the show had become victimized heroes who should have won medals for putting up with a scam artist like me. And that just touched the surface of how I had been labeled after the final taping aired.
Before the show, I’d slept with women, but I couldn’t remember it ever feeling like this.
Chelsea parked her car in front of the garage beside the entrance to the pool house then turned to me. “This is crazy, right? We’ve known each other for four days.”
I reached out to take her hand, reveling at how small and dainty it was in mine. “You’re overthinking it. Let’s go inside, pour some wine, put on some music.” The corner of my mouth tipped up in a smile. “And then…” I leaned over, brushing my lips against hers. “I’ll let you touch my giant willy.”
The sound of her laughter made me smile. This was how it should be—natural, easy, completely right.
“It’s no joke, love. Just think, you’ll have something to talk to Gwen about the next time you stop by the tearoom.”
She laughed again, swatting me with her hand. I caught it and dragged it down my chest and onto the fabric of my trousers. As I stared deeply into her wide silver-moon eyes, I cupped her hand around the subject in question. While the size of any man’s willy, big or small, was in the eye of the beholder, I was confident enough to know Chelsea wouldn’t be disappointed. When her small hand squeezed, I kissed her firmly and breathed her in.
“Come with me,” I whispered when I finally pulled away.
I made the first move to exit the car and took her hand when she approached. We passed through the main gate then through the pool gate and went straight to her pool house.
After entering, I shut the door and locked it behind me before leaning against it and letting out a breath. “C’mere.”
Chelsea stepped up to me, the top of her head just reaching the top of my chest. I tilted her chin up, gripped her waist, and pulled her flush to my body. Slipping a hand beneath her blouse, I ran a finger against her silky-smooth skin, growing harder at the touch.
“I’ve never done this before.”
Her quiet words made me freeze because I didn’t understand what she meant. “Done what, love?”
Her breath shook as she exhaled. “I mean, I’ve only slept with guys who I’ve dated—not strangers. I’ve never had a one-night stand.”
I shook my head, her words rattling me more than I knew they should. “We haven’t known each other long, but I’m certainly not a stranger. And who said anything about this being a one-night stand? I’m happy to fuck you for as many days and nights as you wish.”
My comment brought a smile to her lips, but it faded as her gaze filled with doubt.
“Chelsea.” I tipped her chin up again. “I’d very much like to take you to bed but only if you want me to.”
“I do.”
Her quick answer gave me a burst of confidence, and I couldn’t hold back my smile. “Well, then—”
“I just don’t want to find out you’re a psycho or anything.” She blushed at her comment then shook her head like she was embarrassed. “I mean, I know you’re not a psycho. But you haven’t even told me why you left London so abruptly. Was it a girl? An ex? Is she a psycho?” Her eyes widened as if she’d just hit the jackpot. “You’re married, aren’t you?”