Neither one of us says anything for a moment. He’s standing close enough to touch. I can feel the tension crackling between us, and if I didn’t know better, I’d almost think we to repeat that moment from the first night we met—that he’s about to take me into his arms and kiss me silly, right here in the middle of the brightly-lit bowling alley.
True love could be waiting around the next corner…
He leans in, and I close my eyes…
That’s when a portly, balding man in the lane beside us beside us hits a noisy, game-ending strike, his entire team erupting into boozy, rowdy cheers.
“Wohooo!”
Liam and I spring apart. He looks away, a guilty expression on his face.
“Are you hungry?” he blurts, never mind the fact that we’re halfway through our game. I’m glad. All of a sudden it feels like both of us could use some fresh air, and fast. “Because I’m starving.”
“Great idea,” I say quickly.
Besides, I need something in my hands that isn’t his body, and stat.
We head back downtown to grab hot dogs at Gray’s Papaya, standing at the counter that lines the plate-glass window and watching the people rush by. Even late at night, even at the end of summer, the crowd is still thick. I wonder, not for the first time, where everyone is coming from and headed toward, what their stories might be.
“Okay,” Liam says, two dogs down with mustard all over his chin. “This might be my favorite place to eat in New York.”
I smile. Even the hot robot has a weakness for junk food hidden under those healthy abs. “My ex is the one who introduced me to it,” I confess with a laugh. “I made sure I got to keep it when we broke up.”
Liam raises his eyebrows. “Recently?”
I shake my head. “A few months back.”
“I’m sorry to hear it.”
“Don’t be,” I say. “It’s fine. And honestly, that’s all he was, too: Fine. Maybe it’s the romance editor in me, but I can’t help but want that big love…” I shrug, catching myself. “You probably think that’s ridiculous, I know.”
But Liam shakes his head, surprising me. “I don’t think it’s ridiculous,” he says. “I think it’s human. And I think you deserve it.”
“Well. Thanks.” I clear my throat, blushing. “What about you?” I ask. “Lots of heartbroken ladies pining after you back in LA?”
Liam gives a wry chuckle. “I don’t know about that,” he says. “I’ve been in a few relationships over the last few years, but nothing worthy of a Verity Lange novel.”
I nod seriously. “You took a look at their bank statements and just weren’t impressed by their 401K contributions?”
“Oh, you’re funny,” he says. Then he winks. “401K was fine, actually. But her escrow account was a total turnoff.”
I laugh. Could it be that Liam Sterling has an actual sense of humor about himself? Nothing about this night has turned out like I was expecting.
We finish our hot dogs and he walks me back to my apartment through the warm, humid night. The leafy sidewalks of the Upper West Side are mostly empty but he stays close anyway, the backs of our hands just brushing.
“This is me,” I tell him when we get to the brownstone that houses my tiny studio. My downstairs neighbors have their lights on, married professors in their seventies. He brings her flowers every Friday night. It’s as much the thought of their enduring romance as it is Liam’s scorching hotness that has me blurting, “Um. Do you want to come up for a drink?”
Liam swallows, his Adam’s apple moving underneath the thin skin of his throat. I’m pretty sure he’s about to call out the invitation for the terrible idea that it is, but instead, he gives me a sideways look. “Sure,” he says. “I’d like that.”
OK then.
He follows me up the narrow staircase, steadying me with one hand when I almost trip on the long hem of my borrowed dress. “Should have stayed in the bowling shoes,” I joke, turning to rummage through my purse for my keys. My mind is racing, trying to remember if I left my laundry all over the floor, and if the bathroom is a disaster zone—
Then Liam’s mouth is on mine, and suddenly, nothing else matters.
Because wow.
If our first kiss was an impulse, this feels like a week of sexual tension brought to boiling point: hot and deep and demanding. I moan against him, sliding my hands up into the hair I’ve been longing to touch all night. Liam pulls me closer, backing me up against the wall, and damn if my knees aren’t already weak, as I gasp for air and—
Liam suddenly pulls back. “Damn,” he curses, “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have—”
“Yes, you should.” I interrupt him, pulling him back to my mouth again.
Liam lets out a quiet groan. I thought I might have been romanticizing what happened between us that first night on the sidewalk, trying to turn it into something more than it was, but somehow this is even better—the soap and cologne smell of him, his hands gripping my waist, his body hard against me. It feels like I’ll die if I can’t have all of him, and fast.
“Inside,” I gasp, twisting the key in the lock with shaking hands. We tumble into my apartment in a heap, Liam dropping his tuxedo jacket on my floor and my hair falling out of its careful up-do. It feels like his hands are on me everywhere at once. His grip is strong and the tiniest bit rough as he squeezes my ass through the silky fabric of the dress, but I love the feel of him as he trails his palms up over the small of my back and my rib cage. His thumbs find my nipples, and I moan.
“I wanted you all night,” he mutters, trailing kisses down over my jaw and my neck, my bare shoulders. “No, not just all night. Since I saw you do that ridiculous cartwheel on the sidewalk. I can’t work. I can’t concentrate. All I can think about is—”
“Liam,” I gasp, trailing my hands up over his dress shirt, the heat of him bleeding through the starchy fabric. My whole body feels like it’s on fire. I want to suggest we move this party to the bed but Liam is already working one hand up underneath the slippery fabric of my dress, running his palm over my thigh and finding the elastic of my thong with two nimble fingers. “Can I?” he asks hoarsely, his eyes locked on mine. It’s sexy as hell, and I nod wordlessly as he brushes his fingers over the seam of my body.
Oh God. Yes.
He swallows audibly, stroking deeper, sliding his fingers inside me. “God, Eliza, you’re so wet.”
Hearing my buttoned-up boss say the words has me whimpering helplessly into his shoulder. “Please,” I say again. He slides his fingers deep inside me, curling them, putting pressure against my clit with the heel of his hand.
“Like that?” he groans, and I nod again, not trusting my voice.
It doesn’t take me long like that, his voice and his face and the steady rhythm of his fingers rocking in and out of me. I climax with a moan so loud I’m afraid my neighbors will know exactly what’s going on up here, but I can’t bring myself to care. It feels too damn good.
Spectacular, in fact.
But when I finally open my eyes again, Liam’s expression is cloudy, like a shutter has come down again. My heart sinks.