Page 118 of Love to Loathe Him

In one swift move that showcases every muscle, he flips me over. Now I’m pinned beneath him, his thighs nudging mine apart. Show-off.

“Relax,” he murmurs against my lips. “I’m not going to strip you bare here. I’m not a complete Neanderthal.”

“No kidding!” I try to sound indignant, but my protests sound weak even to my own ears. Damn his sinful mouth.

His forearms come down on either side of my head, caging me in, and I surrender to the inevitable. He’s right, there’s no one around. And really, what’s the harm in a little outdoor snogging? It’s not like we’re going to shag right here on the grass . . . Right?

We kiss slowly, sensually, like we have all the time in the world. We’ve been kissing a lot this weekend, more than I ever expected. I thought he wasn’t a kisser. Turns out, he’s a damn good one.

His tongue sweeps against mine, and I feel it all the way down to my toes. My brain turns to goo with every swipe of his tongue, every pull of my lower lip.

His hands start to roam, brushing against my breasts before sliding under my top, his fingers splaying across my bare stomach. I shiver at the contact. I can feel how hard he is, even through his jeans.

“Liam, get out of there,” I gasp, but it’s a halfhearted reprimand at best. When his hand slides inside my bra, brushing against my nipples, I’m too horny to stop him.

I wrap my arms around his waist, marveling at how big and solid he feels on top of me.

I sigh into his mouth. Nothing else matters, not the seagulls screeching their disapproval above or the wind whipping my hair about.

We break apart, and I find myself staring into his eyes, cataloging every detail of his face. His strong sexy nose. Those deep brown eyes, so chocolate-y. Full lips. That jaw.

“You have great lashes,” I murmur, gently touching them.

Something distracts me, catching my eye in the water below. A boat. WithBirdwatchersemblazoned on the side in big, bold letters.

I stare dreamily down at it for a moment, my lust-addled brain not quite processing the information. Then my eyes widen as Liam continues his enthusiastic exploration under my top.

“Liam,” I hiss urgently, smacking at his shoulder. “Get your hand out of my top. Now.”

He pulls back, his dark eyes flashing with confusion and a hint of annoyance at being interrupted. He turns to see what I’m gawking at.

There, bobbing merrily in the water, is a tour boat full of elderly birdwatchers. And at least half of them have their binoculars pointed right at us, getting a close-up view of our little display of al fresco affection.

What. The. Actual. Fuck.

Liam blinks, his expression cycling through surprise then amusement.

“Well, shit,” he rumbles, extracting his hand from my bra with a rueful grin. “Guess we gave them a show they weren’t expecting on their bird hunt.”

I sit up, frantically adjusting my clothing and trying to regain some semblance of dignity. “I can’t believe this. You said no one would see us.”

“I said no one would walk this way. Didn’t say anything about boats.” Liam laughs, the bastard, unperturbed by our geriatric audience. “Look on the bright side. We probably made their trip. They’ll be talking about the randy couple on the cliff for years to come.”

I glare at him, torn between wanting to melt into the ground and reluctantly admitting it’s kind of hilarious. “This is all your fault, with your wandering hands and your complete lack of shame. If I end up on the cover of “Bird Watchers Weekly”, I’m going to murder you in your sleep.”

“You’re cute when you’re angry.”

Then it hits me. A delayed reaction to what he just said.

Couple.

Is he forgetting we’re nowhere near a couple? This weekend might be a blissful escape, but Monday will come crashing downsoon enough. Fisherman Liam, with his easy laughter and wandering hands, won’t be waiting for me in the office.

CHAPTER 36

Liam

“We’re going mostly straightnow,” Gemma yells, her face lighting up as she grips the helm. “Kind of.”