Page 25 of Waiting For A Girl Like You (Haven House #4)

He grabbed the metal bar at the top of the seat, using it as leverage to fuck harder and drive himself as deep as possible. With his other hand, he yanked her top aside to watch her breast bounce from the impact. “Need them in my mouth.”

Bending low, he took one nipple between his lips, sucking hard while his hand worked the other. The rhythm of his thrusts never faltered, and when Jamison bucked her hips to meet him, her orgasm hit like a lightning bolt—shattering and raw, her cries echoing across the inlet.

“Come on, baby. Be my good girl and breathe through it.” Liam lifted his head to watch, his arrogant smile blurring when her vision blacked out for a second. “Yeah, there you go. That’s it.”

She did as she was told, allowing the pleasure to consume her. The veins in his forearm popped as he continued to use his grip on the bar as an anchor, and with a guttural curse, he increased his speed, hammering into her as the wet slap of skin on skin drove them into a frenzied high.

Having him this deep, pounding this hard, threatened to send her spiraling over the edge again. And only when his hand locked around her throat, his heavy ramming turning erratic, did she lose herself once more.

They rode out their release together. She took every last thrust, the tension in his body making her own quake. He shouted as he came, the sound alone increasing her pleasure.

“I fucking love you, woman.” Impossibly thick and purely masculine, he spilled into her completely, shuddering from the intensity. “This… you …belong to me .”

Their lips met in a searing kiss, and when he finally let go of the seat, he wrapped her up tight. His mouth wandered, nipping at her neck, tongue tracing a lazy pattern over her collarbone before dipping back to her breasts, unable to get enough.

“Can we go for round two?” she panted, the scent of sweaty, hot sex filling her as she fought for air. “Like… now?”

A shrill ring interrupted their moment, and Liam sighed into her skin. “Can’t they give me a little peace?”

He reluctantly pulled away, her body instantly protesting the loss. “Did we not drop enough clues about what we were doing out here?” Her phone started to ring, too, and she sighed. “Obviously not.”

Liam answered his first, gloriously naked and entirely unbothered. “Do you remember how you used to call at the worst possible times when I was in college?” he grumbled into the phone. “Yeah. Your streak lives on.”

Jamison grabbed her own phone, huffing when she saw Rowan’s name flash on the screen. “What?”

“Let me talk to Liam.”

“He’s talking to…” Her eyes went wide when she saw Liam staring down at her as he stroked himself. Biting his bottom lip, his dark eyes roamed, and when he jerked his chin, gesturing for her to spread her legs so he could see the remains of their fucking… she didn’t hesitate.

He had told her to be a good girl, after all.

Rowan’s call disconnected, and she tossed her phone aside, more than ready to give Liam a show. Time was limited, and they needed to make the most of it.

Sliding her fingers down her belly and between her legs, she rubbed circles as she waited impatiently. And when he watched, yet still continued to talk, she rolled to her front to lift up on all fours. At this angle, he could see everything, including the absolute mess he’d made of her.

“God damn,” she heard him exhale, which he quickly covered with a hasty throat clear. “No, not you. Right. There’s no way to tell who? Got it. Yeah. We’ll head out now.”

Ending the call, he bent down and sank his teeth into the curve of her ass.

“I’m sorry,” he said, mouth still against her skin.

“For the bite or because we’re going back?”

“We’re not going back, and I’m sure as hell not sorry for the bite.” He kissed the red mark his teeth had left. “But Rowan spotted Watson at the shack. He’s got people with him, which apparently never happens. Dad wants us to make contact and see what we can dig up.”

She really needed to find out how Rowan always seemed to know these things. But, then again, he’d probably never tell her.

“So, what you’re saying,” she rolled over to pout, “is that our time is over, and I have to put on makeup.”

“Our time is over for now.” He bent down, and, sliding his hand beneath her hair, he tugged her closer by the nape. “Once we’re done at Watson’s place, we’re coming back here.”

“For round two? ”

“And three.” He grinned and kissed her. “And four.”

“Do not paddle,” Liam growled. “Just relax.”

“I can paddle,” she hissed over her shoulder, trying not to tip the kayak. “I am perfectly capable of handling myself.”

The grunt he gave said otherwise, but she wasn’t giving in. They’d always been the couple to beat in any group activity—until it came down to kayaking, their one weakness. Liam expected her to just let him do all the work, but that wasn’t going to happen.

It wasn’t her fault they could never get their paddling in sync.

And really, she should surrender. The inflatable kayak stashed on the boat had been a last-minute call, and she could admit that it was the right one.

When they’d passed the inlet near Watson’s shack, Liam switched course, guiding the boat out of sight.

Now, with the kayak, they could sneak up along the water’s edge undetected, weaving through the marsh and tall trees growing directly off the shore.

Jamison’s paddle dipped too hard, sending a spray of water over the bow. The dark, sluggish waves slapped against the side of the kayak, bouncing them a little too close to the knotted cypress roots.

She sucked a sharp breath as Liam corrected their course. “I could have done that. Why don’t you let me lead for a second?”

Liam’s paddle tapped her shoulder playfully, cold water dripping onto her shirt. “Not gonna happen.”

“Fine.” Resting her paddle across her lap, she gave in, glancing back to find Liam grinning over his victory. “Happy?”

“Delirious.”

They drifted closer, inching along the edge of the swamp until the shack came into full view.

Shack really was the perfect word for the place.

Leaning slightly, the structure looked one strong wind away from collapse.

In contrast, the dock appeared to be in perfect shape.

Nice and stable, it was ideal for most mid-sized vessels.

“How the hell did I miss this?” Liam whispered, keeping his voice low to avoid it carrying over the water. “I swear this wasn’t here when CeCe died, but now, I honestly can’t remember if we swept this far out from the scene. ”

Jamison scanned the shoreline, nodding toward the dock. “Look at the wood on the house versus the dock. It’s new. That means it either wasn’t here when CeCe died, or it was in such bad shape back then that no one paid attention to it.”

“Which means someone recently constructed it.”

Just then, the shack’s back door creaked open, and a man stepped out. Even from this distance, it was obvious he was on the short side. Jamison sat up and squinted as if it would help her see better.

“Is that Watson?”

Liam extracted a compact pair of binoculars from the pocket of his board shorts and handed them to her. “That’s him, but I don’t see anyone else.”

Peering through the lens, she stared at the man pacing slowly across the lawn with his hands in his pockets. He had dark hair and a scraggly mustache that needed some attention. Even in the warm weather, he wore a flannel shirt and jeans.

“Why is he dressed like a mountain man?” She passed the binoculars back to Liam. “A flannel shirt and jeans in this weather? Seriously?”

Placing the binoculars on the kayak floor, Liam studied the area as he thought through his plan. “Watson has scars on his arms, and he doesn’t like for people to see them.”

Jamison found the man’s insecurity intriguing and thought about how she could use it to their advantage. “When we head over there, how am I playing this?”

Liam no longer wanted her to be Jamison Fairweather.

Instead, they were going to pretend to be tourists on the hunt for rainbow swamps.

Natural reflections where oil-slicked water and refracted sunlight appeared to capture the colors of a rainbow, tourists were known to lose their damn minds over them.

“Be cute,” Liam said, still scanning the shoreline. “Bubbly, maybe?”

“Sweet Jesus,” she grumbled. “I have never in my life been bubbly.”

He chuckled softly. “Flirt with him. Like Taylor does with your dad.”

She recoiled, almost tipping the kayak. “Now you’re pushing it.”

“You can punish me later.” Using his paddle, he nudged them free of the tangled roots they’d been using for cover. “You ready? ”

Jamison pressed her lips together, trying to smooth out the electric pink coating them. Her makeup felt like stage prosthetics, heavy and unnatural. “I guess so.”

Winding through the trees, Liam’s paddling turned erratic as he pretended to be an amateur on the water. When they emerged from the swamp into open water, he let out a loud, forced laugh to draw Emmett’s attention.

“Hey!” Jamison waved enthusiastically at Emmett, feeling like an absolute moron as she spoke in a country accent. “Excuse me, sir! Can you help us?”

“Nice acting,” Liam whispered. “But give it more of a twang.”

She would not roll her eyes.

Continuing to wave, she gave a toothy grin and hoped to hell the hot pink lipstick wasn’t covering a random tooth here or there. Whatever she looked like, Emmett Watson seemed to like it. Quirking an eyebrow, he meandered down the dock as Liam brought them alongside the structure.

“Off.” Behind her, Liam gave the hem of her shirt a tug. “Quick.”

He could not be serious.

“I’m going to kill you,” she said, slipping the T-shirt over her head. For good measure, she shook her hair back and forth, fanning herself as if it were too hot. “Your days are numbered, William.”

“Hey, can you give us directions?” Liam shifted his tone to sound younger, a trick that never failed to amaze her. “We’re looking for a rainbow swamp.”