Watching him prep the airboat, she thought of how she’d woken to an empty bed, the dent in the pillow and tenderness between her thighs the only proof he’d even slept with her. Sure he’d smiled at her from across the room and touched her shoulder as he walked past, but there was no missing the shadows lurking in his expression.
She sipped lukewarm coffee, more for the caffeine and something to do with her hands than out of any need to drink. “What can I do to help?”
Liam checked the magazine on his gun, tucked it back in the holster. “There’s not much to load up, but the more we get done now…”
“The faster we can leave later when the call comes.”
“Roger that.” He hitched his duffel over his shoulder and strode down the dock toward their airboat.
She scooped up her backpack. It felt like eons since she’d loaded it up, rather than just three days prior. Might as well have been a lifetime ago.
Liam stood at the end of the dock and shouted, “Toss it to me. No need to get wet until you have to.”
It was almost as if he didn’t even want to be near her. What the hell? Could he possibly be the kind of jerk who stopped wanting a woman the minute he got her?
Although he had been divorced three times.
“Here!” She threw her backpack like a basketball, pushing away from her chest. Hard.
He caught it without budging. It figured. He turned to walk away.
“Liam?” she called out, frustration stirring. “Liam? What’s going on?”
“I’m busy packing,” he said without looking back. “We can talk later.”
“Liam!” Aggravation tangled up with anger, not to mention all the fear piling up these past couple of weeks. “Liam! William McCabe! I’m not some quiet, laid-back person who’s just going to sit back and pretend I don’t notice you’re in a mood. What’s wrong with you today?”
He tossed her pack on the boat without a word and started back down the dock. His closed-off face didn’t promise much conversation. His boots hit the muddy bank. He picked his way over the wandering tree roots poking out of the muddy incline.
“Damn it.” She stomped her foot, not caring who heard. “Just talk.”
He turned sharply to face her, smiling. Sort of. “Now isn’t the time.”
“Because I’m getting too close? Too real?”
Cursing, he looked away, but he didn’t leave. He seemed to be gathering his thoughts, and she wondered if maybe, just maybe, he might tell her what was bothering him. What had changed between last night and this morning?
She’d opened up to him after pushing men away ever since Caden’s death. Her relationship with Liam was significant for so many reasons—not the least of which was because she was actually falling for the guy—and now she was scared of something she couldn’t pinpoint.
“Well, Liam? Aren’t you even going to answer me?”
His head went back as he stood tall and hard bodied in the rising sun. The only man who’d hadn’t eventually backed off from her strong will—okay, she’d pushed most men away. But there was no pushing Liam.
He was all man.
So much so, he didn’t even sway as the ground shifted under his feet. She frowned, trying to figure out what wasn’t right about the picture in front of her…>She scooted until she sat in his lap, her legs looping around his waist.
With her br**sts pressed to his chest and the hot core of her pressed against his erection, he wondered if he might finish before he even got his clothes off.
No way was he letting that happen. He eased her back onto the blanket, licking and tasting his way down her body until he tugged her panties with his teeth. He looked up at her briefly to see her reaction. He found hesitation but acceptance.
He tugged at the waistband of her underwear and discovered… two tiny tattooed pawprints along her hip bone. Now wasn’t that a surprise?
“How many of these are there?” He kissed one, then the other.
“Why don’t you count?”
Which meant there were more beneath her underwear.