Her mind started jumping around as if she’d just consumed two turbocharged lattes as she followed Liam inside the screen door. Their conversation about Derry had distracted her for a few minutes, but now she couldn’t stop thinking about Liam asking her to spend the night.
The fact that she was thinking about accepting his proposal shocked her even more. If she agreed to sleep with Liam, she’d have to tell him she’d never had sex.
She grasped wildly for a safe topic of conversation as she helped Liam do the dishes, but her rising anxiety got the best of her. Luckily, Liam didn’t appear to be uncomfortable at all in a silence that felt suffocating to Natalie. He was absorbed in his thoughts, but he seemed to rise out of them as he shut the dishwasher.
“Do you want to see what I’ve done to the cottage so far? I’d like your opinion on a couple of things.”
“Of course,” she murmured.
“I don’t want to waste money loading it up with furniture when I’m not really sure what I want yet,” Liam explained as he led her through the sparsely furnished living room.
“That’s a good idea. This place has such a light, open feel to it, like it was meant to be filled with clean lake air and sunlight. It wouldn’t do to cram it full with a bunch of heavy furniture. I pictured a golden tan for the walls in this room, and then filling it with rich browns and ivories. It’d make it look like a sunlit globe in the mornings. When I thought about buying the cottage, the first thing I fantasized about doing was restoring the fireplace to its former glory,” Natalie said as she ran her hand across the age-and-smoke-dulled wood. The magic she’d once felt sneaking into the rundown, yet still elegant old home, returned to her full force. “It’s made of carved African mahogany and Carrera white marble.”
Liam looked impressed. “My mom told me I was nuts when I said I was considering slapping some paint on the mantle. She could tell it was fine craftsmanship, but she didn’t know all those details. How’d you find out that stuff?”
“I dug up a few historical facts on the cottage when I was thinking about buying it. George Myerson, the original owner, was the president of the Pacific Railway and he commissioned Ellison Raft of Chicago to design the place. I copied the old articles I found. I still have them somewhere, if you’d like me to give them to you.”
“That’d be great, thanks,” Liam said as he led her up the stairs. Natalie followed him into the large, west-facing room.
“I can’t figure out what I should do with this space,” he said.
“Myerson used it as a saloon—a kind of nineteenth century Guys Only Club, where he and the other men played pool, smoked cigars, told fishing stories…avoided their wives,” Natalie added with a small smile. She opened a door, which led to what looked like an enormous closet or small room, and stepped over the threshold. “This was the actual bar in here, where he stored spirits and wine.”
“Huh,” Liam spoke from just behind her. “I’ve found the local expert on my house. How lucky am I?”
Natalie laughed and turned to face him. Her smile faded when she realized how close he was. He’d been peering into the small room from behind her, his arm braced above her head on the door frame. His tall, rangy body blocked her exit.
She couldn’t decide if her hammering heart was trying to tell her to escape or submit to her urge to stay put.
“I’m not an expert in the slightest. You could find all this stuff out by doing a little research.”
He ducked his head so that his warm breath brushed against her nose and cheek. “That sounds much less exciting than hearing all this wisdom straight from Natalie Reyes’ mouth. Especially,” he continued, his low, vibrating voice causing a shiver to skitter down her spine, “when it’s such a lovely mouth.”
“Liam.”
She’d meant to say his name in a warning tone, but instead, it’d sounded like an uncertain plea of longing. Liam brushed his mouth against hers in a coaxing kiss, his lips warm and firm.
“Don’t be afraid of me, Natalie.”
Her lips moved, and Natalie herself couldn’t be sure if they did so to speak, or to caress Liam’s coaxing mouth. “I’m not afraid of you.”
His hand remained braced on the doorframe, but he placed his other hand on her lower back and then palmed her hip. His lips shaped hers gently and Natalie felt those careful, deliberate movements all the way in the core of her body.
“You’re…afraid…of something,” Liam muttered, taking small bites of her lips. His hand moved, stroking her back. Natalie’s spine arched slightly against the pressure, as if her flesh were melting against the heat of his palm. Liam took a step closer and lowered his other arm. His hands bracketed her waist as he continued to kiss her, his mouth still closed, but his movements grew increasingly feverish.
“What, Natalie? What are you afraid of?” He lifted his head, pinning her with a blazing stare. He pulled her closer, their bodies melding into that supreme fit that she recalled all too perfectly.
“This,” she admitted softly.
He just stared down at her for a moment, his features cast in part-shadow. She had little doubt that Liam knew she referred to the heat that resonated between their pressing bodies at that very moment, the electric charge that always seemed to occur whenever they touched.
“It’s probably a bad idea, Liam,” she whispered, even as her forearms slid against his waist and her fingertips discovered the muscles of his back through the fabric of his shirt.
“It might be unwise,” he granted gruffly. His head lowered. “But it feels unstoppable.”
He leaned down, forcing her back to arch against the firm hold of his hands at her waist. All the restraint he showed in his former, questing kisses evaporated. She was submerged in Liam’s heat, his possessive kiss…his fierce spirit.
And she knew he was right. They’d unleashed a force of nature neither one of them could control.