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Liam hooks two fingers up inside me, curling them to a spot that makes me slump into his chest with zero shame. I mewl as he works me over, rolling my clit with his thumb as his other hand brushes down my back. Lazily, as much as my brain can function to do so, I use both hands to gently stroke him.
When my nail meets the head of his cock, he hisses, and I know I need him inside me.
“Need you now,” I mumble as we rid ourselves of the last stitches of clothing between us.
Anyone walking past his truck in the parking lot of Leo’s could probably figure out, or even see, what we’re doing. I’m not exactly quiet as I slide down onto his length and nearly scream at the size of him and how fucking incredible he feels. Liam himself lets out a growl to rival a black bear.
But I can’t care. Not when I’m pumping up and down on his steel-hard dick, his hands roaming my body as I take us to the brink of losing our minds.
I press my hand to the roof of the car, riding him like he’s my favorite sex toy.
“Fuck, you’re the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen.” Liam grips my hip, sheathing me on his cock over and over again.
It’s like we’re both attempting to drive each other insane. Sex has never been out of this world before because it wasn’t with him. That’s what I’m scared to admit. I’ve never felt this deep a connection, and I barely know this man on a factual level. But it’s more of a soul thing, something I didn’t dare to believe in for most of my life.
I was one of those women who laughed at things like astrology charts and soulmates. Thinking that someone was made for me since both of us came into this world was a foreign concept I couldn’t comprehend. Rolling my eyes at lovey-dovey couples who swore that fate set them up was old hat for me.
Until now. Until I met him. Until I realized that maybe everything I thought had been wrong.
Right here? This proves it. In the back of this dark pickup, with him, is the most I’ve ever felt like me. Like I wasn’t complete until he made me so.
And when we come together, our climaxes shaking our bodies as he inhales into my chest pressed to his face, I realize I will never be the same again.
10
LIAM
Birds tweet in the trees outside my office window, and I wish I could be out there with them rather than in here stuck at a desk.
Not being with my plants, outside, or working with my hands, drives me crazy. I’m not meant for a cubicle or a chair with an adjustable back. Yet I promised Patrick I’d look over the security footage, and after yet another distraction last night with Gabrielle, I knew I had to whip myself back into shape.
Especially because the woman hopped out of my cab like her very fine ass was on fire as soon as I pulled up to the curb of her grandmother’s condo.
Shaking it off as I down the last cold dregs of my coffee, I set to work and put the beautiful, infuriating blonde out of my head.
I go into the system I employ for security purposes and pull up the various cameras I installed on the property. Knowing the timeline helps; it had to be before we were harvesting that day, obviously, but no more than two days prior because when I’d been out there doing grow checks, all the rows had been completely fine.
That area of the property does have a bit of a blind spot, so I was reluctant to say I’d catch anything, but I started to sift through the hours of footage on a sped-up loop.
On the first day in question, I think something could have been tampered with, there is absolutely nothing. Nothing but the wind in the trees as they sway in fast forward. Not even a hawk, which are frequent on our property.
During the second day, I’m still seeing nothing. The morning passes like every other on the numerous cameras, and I idly wonder how cool it would be to put up a time-lapse video on the Hope Pizza social channels of watching the food we use in the restaurant grow. Alana would shit herself if she knew I was thinking in social media marketing strategies.
As I wonder how badly my sister would laugh at me for bringing that up, I see a blip on the screen. Nothing more than a minute or two at the speed I have the video going, but it’s there. Straightening, I pause the screen and go back, setting the speed at a normal one.
“Fuck …”
Because there it is. A chunk of five minutes where the camera closest to the rows of ruined plants goes black. Suspicion, fear, and fury creep up my neck in a poisonous trio, making me look around my office like the culprit might be standing right here with me. Then, on the five-minute mark of it going down, it comes back up like nothing ever happened. You can barely make out the damage; the rows too far from the camera.
But they would have been close enough to pick up on some animal, or someone, prowling about in that section.
I need to get a handle on this. Call the cops or a PI like my family had in previous situations. This isn’t the first time someone has come into our lives with bad motives, and it’s not the first time we’ve found someone trying to steal our plants or our recipes. Hope Pizza is a revered East Coast establishment; we’ve been written about in the biggest food and wine magazines around the country. Internationally, even. It makes sense that others try to copy our success, but it always baffles me when people try to go to lengths such as these to try to replicate it.
Something else sticks under my skin like a dirty sludge, though. And that is guilt. Because I’ve gone nearly two weeks without checking these tapes, too preoccupied with following Gabrielle around town like a desperate little puppy. Each night this week, I frequented bars downtown that I didn’t normally drink at to see if she’d come in because she was avoiding my regular joints.
Then, bam, my plan actually worked out. I got to be with her again, even if just for a short, intense time. Until she barely let me drive her home, and we discussed nothing that had been on my mind.
I’m failing all around; I can’t keep it together with Gabrielle, and now I can’t even protect the farm. I need to get fucking serious, and there is one person who knows the connections I need.
