“Got that right.”
“It’s summertime, lady.” He shook his head and continued his path out the door. “I got enough work as it is. I don’t need no headaches.”
“Good call.” I encouraged his exodus.
“Why the hell are you trying to ruin everything?” Sophie came at me now with just as much anger flashing in her eyes as I’d had earlier. Jaw set, she glared and nearly spat out her words. “I’m 25 and I’m living life how I want. I’m making my own choices. And it doesn’t matter if you don’t like them.”
Now I took a couple of steps back. She was small but she was mighty. “You need to get out of my store. And stop trying to boss me around.”
“Has it occurred to you maybe I’m trying to help you out? Stop you from getting way in over your head? Hemorrhaging money on some of these idiots pretending they can fix up your store?”
“Who made you such an expert on all of this?” As she threw her hands up in exasperation, the hem of her T-shirt lifted, giving me a sweet, brief flash of her stomach. I could lick that. “I mean, I know you’re a firefighter,” she continued ranting, oblivious of my tangent of lust. “And I know you were caught out in that storm so you’re cautious.”
“But I’m sure Theo is much more of an expert when it comes to safety.” Sarcasm dripped off my words.
“He’s not an idiot!”
“But I am?”
“I’m not saying that.” She brought her hand to her forehead, rubbing it as if she were developing a migraine. I felt the same way. Only I wanted to rub her forehead, then run my hands through her hair, cup her cheek, tilt her chin up and kiss her all over again. That would feel good. She fit so right in my arms.
“You need to go,” she repeated, pointing to the door for emphasis.
“All right,” I agreed. For now. “Just promise me you’re not going to hire some numb nuts who has no idea what he’s doing. This project of yours—”
“Is a nightmare. I know, that’s what the guy you chased out of here was starting to explain to me.”
“You need good people. Honest people who know what they’re doing.”
“That’s why I’m getting a whole bunch of estimates. Or trying to.”
“From the wrong people.”
“You’re driving me crazy.” She closed her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose with her fingers.
“I’m leaving.” I put my hand on the doorknob to show I meant it. She peeked at me, wondering what would come next. “But I’m going to give you some names of guys I know. Guys who won’t rob you blind or leave you worse off than you were before. And they’ll know how to work on a historic building.”
“Well…” She stared at the floor, then at the ceiling, then let out a long breath she’d been holding. “That would be helpful, Liam, but you don’t have to.”
“I know I don’t have to.” I took a deep breath, too. This woman was so damn stubborn. “And I can do the flooring myself.” The minute the offer was out of my mouth I wondered why in the hell I’d said it. I hadn’t thought about saying it. It had just popped out. But it was true. I’d done enough work on houses, enough carpentry that I knew I could fix her flooring. And I wouldn’t charge her for it, either.
“That’s not…” Hands back up on her hips, she looked at the floor and bit her lip. “I’m not sure—”
“I’ll put together a list of guys who can help you out.” And with that, I left the building.
So much for sleeping. Even after the night I’d had, I felt as wired as superman in a fight. I headed home and holed up on my couch, laptop fired up and ready, phone at my side. I put together a list I was sure many would pay good money for—the best guys on the island who’d do the highest quality work for the most decent prices. She needed these guys, because our island, especially during the summer, was overrun with snakes. Anytime you had fat birds laying around like we did, you got predators slithering around, looking for an easy way to make a quick buck.
Sophie didn’t need that. She had a complicated enough job on her hands and she needed people she could trust. People who’d treat her right. People like me.
Finally around three p.m., I switched off and headed into bed for a much-needed nap. Shades drawn, I still had the window open so I could listen to the sound of the waves. How many people could actually hear the ocean from their bedroom? I had it good in so many ways. I had it made.
Except now I ached, like I was missing exactly what I needed. Like I couldn’t rest again until I had Sophie back in my arms. Kissing her had been a mistake of epic proportions. The smell of her, like spring after a fresh rain, alive and ripe and fresh. She’d trembled in my arms and clung to me like I was saving her, rescuing her and she never wanted me to let her go. Until she’d pushed me away.
Fuck, this was complicated. I shifted in the sheets, lying on my back. Exhaustion pulled at my limbs. I hadn’t slept in over 24 hours. My body and mind needed to rest. But Sophie kept prodding me, pushing me, making me remember.
The way she’d looked after she’d had an orgasm, all those years ago. Stunned and pink and glowing. The sounds she’d made, I could still hear them, her desire for me building, climaxing, building again. I could never get enough of her, not then, not now. It felt like sipping a drug, stepping that near to her again. Feeling the soft plush of her lips, the sweet yield of her body, the dip of her lower back.
I reached down and stroked as I fantasized, wanting more. Wanting that kiss to keep going, uninterrupted, just the two of us. I’d travel down to that patch of stomach I caught a glimpse of and kiss her there. I’d unbutton, undress her, spread her naked before me so I could look and stroke and kiss.
I wanted her tied down, with her wrists bound up over her head. Only then could I truly take my time. When she touched me it made my blood boil. I struggled to keep the kind of control I wanted, and with Sophie I needed control. I needed to see how far I could push her, the woman who’d made me feel more than any other. I wanted to make her crazy, test her limits then push past them. Make her cry and beg with desire, then reward her more than she’d ever dreamed.
Her breasts, the pink of her nipples so ripe, I could picture her as I stroked my hard, thick shaft faster now. She’d twist against her restraints, wide-eyed, frightened at first as she gave me complete control. I’d play with that, make her feel her vulnerability, make sure she understood how deeply I owned her body, mind and soul.
My balls tightened and I could feel the need for release, the urgent pulse and throb. But I held back, slowing my pace, making it last. Like I’d make her wait for it. Tied up, I’d lick her everywhere but where she needed it most. I’d circle her breasts, cupping, blowing on her tender tips. She’d pant and whine. I could see her arch her back, her ribs showing as she begged me to suck on her, bite her, give her more than a teasing caress.
I’d break her down until she was glistening with sweat, panting, pussy gleaming wet, legs open in invitation. I’d suffered seven years, aching, wanting, needing. Now it was her turn to ache, come undone, shuddering and helpless under my power. I’d make her lie very, very still. Only when she lay there like a good girl would I slowly, so slowly bring my finger to her pussy as I took my mouth to her aching, stiff nipple. And then I’d bite.
She’d cum as I did it, screaming out in pleasure and pain, the sensation of my teeth on her sensitive flesh shooting to her core and rippling out in waves. I came at the thought, pumping myself against my stomach, my seed hot and wasted as I dreamed of what I’d do to her.
Lying there panting, I knew it didn’t just have to be a fantasy anymore. Sophie had come back to my island. I could feel the need coursing through her the way it did through me. But I knew she had no idea what lay just beneath the surface between us, like embers threatening to burst into flames.
7
Sophie
The next morning I had a list waiting for me, as promised. Tucked into an envelope, pushed under the door of my shop, it was there for me bright and early at seven a.m. I wondered when he’d delivered it. It had to have been at night, maybe late at night.
What was he doing putting together that list and dropping it off for me when he should have been out with friends? With his girlfriend, if he had one? Which he probably did. Even though he’d kissed me like there was no tomorrow, like I was the one and only woman he wanted and had ever wanted and would ever want for the rest of his days.
I walked into the back of the store and sank to the floor, list in hand. I recognized his handwriting from years back. The summer we’d been together he’d written me notes and left them for me where he knew I’d discover them. Never anything long or especially poetic, Liam somehow seemed to know exactly what to say.
“The way you smile.” He’d written that once, reminding me of how we’d look at each other, unable to stop kissing, smiling, laughing, kissing again. One night as we’d sat in the cab of his truck, a streetlight providing dim illumination, he’d gazed at me. He’d cupped my cheek, rubbing it with his thumb as I’d beamed up at him.
“The way you smile,” he’d marveled, as if my smile was the best thing he’d ever seen on this earth. That was the way he made me feel, like there was no one like me. As if I were a wonder who struck him with constant amazement.
And now he’d written me a list of guys who could help with my store, electricians and plumbers and painters. I knew I shouldn’t find it particularly meaningful. It had probably taken him all of ten minutes. Half of them had to be buddies of his from the fire station, and the other half their cousins and brothers.
It wasn’t anything like the kinds of personal, love-struck notes he used to write me. He hadn’t written an introduction, no “Sorry I keep yelling at you,” or even, “Hello, here is the list I mentioned I’d give you.” He hadn’t signed it, either. The man had never been about pleasantries.