“What are you doing here, Liam? You scared the hell out of me,” she hissed, her eyes furious at my surprise visit, but I couldn’t stop smiling.
“It’s been two days. A deal’s a deal.”
Her jaw dropped, then her hands moved to her hips. “We made plans for tomorrow, not tonight.”
“Well, I have a surprise tonight, so get dressed.”
Chelsea looked down—and so did I—at her headlights poking through a silk white tank. “Or we could stay here.” My gaze slipped down farther to find her in black panties that had me stepping back and shoving my hands into my pockets. “Bloody hell, you had to be wearing that?”
Her arm flew over her chest, and she glared up at me. “I wasn’t expecting company.”
“What were you doing?”
It was a simple question, but by the silence that followed and the guilty look in her eyes, I knew exactly what she’d been doing. Now that I was studying her closely, I recognized a glow to her I’d only seen one time before—the night we’d shagged like animals for hours.
“Well then,” I said before clearing my throat. I wasn’t one to get uncomfortable around a lady, especially an attractive one, but the longer I stood in front of Chelsea, the dirtier my thoughts became. Surprisingly, that wasn’t what tonight was about. “I hope you were thinking of me at least.”
She let out a half groan, half scream before pulling me inside and shutting the door behind me. When she turned around, I got an eyeful of her bum, bare with just a slip of material between her cheeks.
“I’ll get dressed.”
Stifling my groan, I stepped behind her into her bedroom and hopped onto her bed. Leaning against the headboard, I rested my hands behind my head and bit my lip while I watched her peruse her closet. She reached for a blue sundress first then turned to me for approval.
I shook my head. “As much as I love you in those dresses, you’ll want to put on some long pants tonight.”
She narrowed her eyes then leaned down to open a drawer beneath her hanging clothes. I shifted against my tightening trousers, my bum hitting something hard when I moved. Glancing down, I found a pink U-shaped object made of silicone with gentle ridges across the top. I picked it up, running my thumb over one end of it before realizing what I was touching.
“Is this what I think it is?” I held up the device while Chelsea’s eyes shot up in surprise.
“Oh my God, put that down.” She charged for the bed, throwing her leggings to the side as she climbed toward me, her face heavily flushed with embarrassment.
I couldn’t stop laughing as my question was confirmed. I held the vibrator high in the air as she mounted me, her jubblies bouncing in her wild rush to grab for it.
“I hate you,” she growled as her hips bounced off my lap to reach for it again.
“You don’t hate me, love.” My free hand slid up her leg, around her body, and over her bum cheek. I pressed her down on my lap and moved my mouth to her neck, kissing her there before darting my tongue out for a taste. God, I’d missed her, her taste, her smell. Her entire essence wrapped around me like a warm winter blanket.
Her breathing was still heavy, but she stopped fighting as she moved against me, her knickers to my trousers. When a buzzing sound lit the air, she froze while I smiled wide. I’d found the power button on her vibrator and switched it on.
“How about I help you out with this before we leave?”
Chelsea sat back on my lap, her eyes glazed over and staring at my hand that held her special toy. I moved it closer, allowing her the chance to refuse my offer, but she didn’t move an inch. I aimed for her leg first, running it up her thigh and over her hip, then to her stomach. The moment the vibrator touched her belly button, her abs shook so hard I thought I might come from osmosis.
She sucked in a deep breath, her legs tightening around me. I ran the vibrations over her abs a little longer before working the device up beneath her top and over her breasts. Her eyes slammed shut, and she moaned as I circled her nipples slowly one at a time. I was having too much fun watching her as I teased her slowly. Willy, on the other hand, was not impressed. He twitched beneath her, aching each time she moved against him like she was trying to get herself off.
When I couldn’t stand it anymore, I pushed her top up to reveal her breasts. Her pretty pink nipples were swollen and hard and ripe enough to taste. My mouth covered one, and I moaned as I slipped the vibrator between Chelsea’s legs and settled on the fabric above her clit.
I pulled back to watch her eyes flutter closed as her knees quaked around me. Usually, when I gave, I had every expectation of receiving. Not this time. I found myself quite fascinated with the redheaded vixen as she lit up with my touch, moaning and quivering as she came.
Tossing the pink toy, I cupped Chelsea’s head and pulled her to my mouth, slamming her to me with my own desire swirling beneath my waistline. “Good heavens, woman,” I growled between kisses. “How am I supposed to walk after that?”
She laughed, the sound airy in comparison to her moans a moment ago. “Did you really have plans for us, or was that just a ploy to get into my bed?”
I grinned and grabbed her by the bum, lifting her off my lap. “Come and find out.”
26
Chelsea
We walked a few hundred feet down the sidewalk before I spotted it sitting there, all shiny black and chrome. “Please don’t tell me you’re going to make me get on that thing.” That was when I saw them—two helmets hanging off the handlebars, confirming my fears.
Liam chuckled when he saw my reaction and tugged on my hand, pulling me closer. “Oh, come on. I rented it for the rest of my visit. You have to ride with me.”
It wasn’t that I was afraid of motorcycles. I used to go dirt biking with my friends when I was in high school. I had just realized there was more to Liam that I didn’t know. “Do you even know how to drive this thing?”
“I got the motorcycle here, didn’t I?”
I supposed he had a point.
He plucked a black helmet from the handlebar and pushed it to my chest. “What’s the matter, Chelsea? Afraid of a little wind in your hair?”
“Hardly.” I grabbed the helmet and placed it over my head while I took in his outfit with a smirk—white shirt, zip-up hoodie, ripped black jeans. It was the same outfit he’d had on when I’d first spotted him at Spill the Tea, but it all made sense now. Liam looked like a walking, talking stereotype—the bad boy Brit with seemingly nothing to lose. And while this was the version of him I’d gotten to know well, the Liam from back in London—who the media was having a frenzy over—was someone completely different.
The question now was, Who’s the real Liam Colborn?
That question bothered me for the entire ride south. As I used Liam as my shield from the wind and rested my cheek against his back, I squeezed around his middle and tried to picture the Liam the world knew, the man who attended fancy dinners and dressed in tailored suits and styled his hair. My heart squeezed at the remote possibility that I was getting the phony version of him, that when he returned to London, he would continue to live the life he’d known before he’d escaped the camera’s eye.