Caitlin Ryan has never had an orgasm—and she wants one! So does she

(1) Date lots of Mr. Nice-but-Wrongs and keep faking and hoping?

(2) Do a little DIY with a battery-operated friend and a lot of imagination?

(3) Go to NYC and have a wild night with a totally hot stranger?

When (1) and (2) don’t work, Caitlin goes for (3). But even with motorbike-riding sex god Liam, old habits die hard, and yet again she has to fake it. Only he notices—and is not happy! Could things get any worse? Well, yes, when Liam becomes her new boss. But when Caitlin reveals that she’s never climaxed, Liam rises to the challenge, offering a weekend of hot sex with the only goal her pleasure. Will letting him take control work? Caitlin can’t resist finding out….

This is for all the smart, beautiful, amazing Cosmo girls everywhere. As a friend of mine used to always say: the world is your lobster.

Dear Reader,

I’ve always been a compulsive magazine buyer, and still am. I can distinctly remember purchasing my first Cosmopolitan magazine and feeling as if “This is it! I’m a grown-up now.” My dedication to Cosmopolitan went as far as India, where I was backpacking as a wide-eyed culture-shocked twenty-two-year-old. My friend and I were on a tight budget, but as soon as I saw an import copy of Cosmopolitan, I had to have it. Even if it did cost the equivalent of a week’s dinners, and even though it was months out of date. I still have the photographic evidence!

I loved reading about deliciously illicit things like favorite sex positions—when I hadn’t even French-kissed yet! And then, after I’d finally French-kissed and more, getting answers to those niggling doubts we all had, like: Is it normal not to orgasm, and will he know?

My heroine, Caitlin, is a Cosmo girl through and through, fiercely independent and looking forward to the future and all the adventures to come. Yet she has her insecurities like everyone else, and unfortunately for her, she happens to tangle with a hero who sees right through those insecurities straight off the bat.

Liam, my hero, is straight out of every fantasy I’ve ever had of an American Boy. Growing up in Ireland, American men were the ultimate sexy guys, our fantasies fed by a constant diet of films, TV and music. They were, and still are, unbearably cool and confident with their ripped bodies and white smiles and that lazy accent that just curls around your nerves and sets them alight. Think Matthew McConnaughy and Bradley Cooper. I know I did when I wrote this.

I hope you enjoy reading Caitlin and Liam’s story as much as I did writing it, and here’s to many more years of Cosmopolitan rearing and informing generations of strong young women!

Cheers,

Abby Green

Getting Off

Abby Green

Contemporary, sexy stories for sassy women

Cosmo Red-Hot Reads from Mills & Boon

www.millsandboon.co.uk/Cosmo

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter One

I couldn’t see his face, and that frustrated me but then his head dipped and he kissed me again, his mouth firm, tongue stabbing deep, stroking mine, and I forgot all about that frustration to concentrate on the other one, growing between my legs where I was swollen and slick with arousal.

My entire body was pulsating. I’d never been so turned on, so hot, so ravenous for this man who loomed over me now, huge and awe-inspiring in the dim shadows of my bedroom.

Jesus, would he just start fucking me already? Before I died completely?

A dark chuckle told me I’d spoken out loud. ‘Easy, sweetheart. We have all night.’

My heart tripped and he teased me then, settling his body more firmly between my legs, his hard erection nudging against where I ached, where I was wet, making my back arch, struggling to get closer, to force him to impale me more.

Another dark chuckle, ‘You’re impatient aren’t you?’

His accent was indeterminate, kind of an East Coasty smooth American burr. So deep that I felt the vibrations in my body where I wanted him to be touching me right now.

Impatient? He had no idea. A wave of heat washed through my core. My body spasmed in anticipation. The tips of my breasts were so hard they hurt when they scraped against the rock-hard wall of his chest, the smattering of hair a delicious abrasion. I bit back a moan, almost delirious now with want, a fine sweat was breaking out all over my body.

And then, the answer to my incoherent prayers...he slowly fed himself into me, inch by inch. I looked down between our bodies and gasped. He was so big. But he felt so good, touching every sensitized cell in those secret inner walls as he thrust in with ruthless intent. Filling me. Finally.

I would forgive him everything if he just kept going.

I was panting now but didn’t care about trying to pretend to be remotely in control. He started to move in and out, hair-roughened thighs forcing mine apart even more, making my muscles burn. I lifted my legs and locked them around his lean hips, feet digging into muscular buttocks, forcing him to go deeper.

He cursed. I smiled, glad to be making him feel the burn, too. He ground out, ‘Baby, you feel so good.’

I squeezed my eyes shut and concentrated on the spiraling tension in my body, wrapping my arms around his neck. My breath was coming in jerky gasps now. I was so close.

Feverishly I circled my hips against his, urging him on, making him curse again. Please, I begged silently. Please, let me come.

But then, just as his movements became faster, less controlled, I felt myself approaching that wall I knew so well. The one I’d never broken through. He, however, was oblivious to my growing despair. I ground my hips into his desperately, still hoping...pleading silently, but it was too late. He thrust one, two times and shouted out his release...and I felt nothing. Cheated. All that heat and desperation trickling away, leaving me aching with dissatisfaction...

I finally woke up from the dream, heart racing—as it always was. A low humming noise broke through the familiar fog of disappointment and frustration, and the device between my legs told me that I’d now added a prop to my far-too-frequent nighttime excursions.

My vibrator. Which I had been using earlier to little effect. And which I’d obviously reached for in the throes of the dream. Disgusted, I threw it across the room, where it continued to buzz mockingly.

A week later

Dublin airport

‘Kitty Cat, I’m going to miss you.’

‘Don’t get all emotional on me or I’ll start crying, too, and you know how it makes my face puff up as if I have some kind of contagious disease.’ I looked around at the other passengers filing into the security line and hissed sotto voce, ‘And stop calling me Kitty Cat. I’m twenty-three now.’

Mary, my older sister by five years, rolled her eyes, ‘Fine. Caitlin Ryan, I’m going to miss you.’

I gave her an approving look and bit back a smile. ‘That’s better.’

We were both just expelling hot air, avoiding the elephant standing beside us. Johnny. So I took a deep breath and voiced my fears. ‘What if I find him and he doesn’t want to talk to me?’

My sister went pale and I wanted to throttle my brother all over again. She didn’t deserve this. Not after everything we’d been through since our parents had died ten years ago and she’d become our parent overnight.

‘He would be ecstatic to see you. He’s just making it harder for himself now by leaving it so long...’

Johnny, almost four years my senior, had left for New York a couple of years ago after a huge row with Mary. Since then we’d only known he was okay from the deliberately timed middle-of-the-night messages left on the answering machine. Short and curt: I’m fine. I’m safe and working, don’t worry about me.

Mary took my shoulders in her hands then and looked at me sternly. ‘Don’t worry about Johnny, he can take care of himself. This is your time, Caitie. Don’t think I don’t know how much responsibility you felt to keep the peace between me and Johnny. You’ve just graduated with a first-class-honours degree, you need to blow off some steam and have fun...’

When I’d taken my seat on the plane a couple of hours later, Mary’s words came back to me. Blow off steam...have fun. I’d been a student for the last four years, so I knew all about blowing off steam and having fun. Within reason, of course.

But...Mary had hit a nerve. I’d never really...let go completely. I’d never had one tiny rebellious moment. Never been really crazy. One rebel in the family had been enough and Johnny had filled that role to perfection.

My most debauched night out had ended with me waking up sandwiched between two male friends from college, on a small double bed.

For a heart-stopping moment that had definitely veered more to the excited end of the scale than disgusted, I’d wondered if we’d had a threesome. But just as I was realizing that I was still far too dressed for sex to have been part of the equation, one of them had woken up and said blearily, ‘You weren’t too well after all those cocktails last night, so we brought you home with us in case someone took advantage of you in your inebriated state.’

Instead of feeling relieved to have such caring friends, I’d felt slightly miffed that I’d failed to inspire in them the desire to even think about taking advantage of me. Not that I would ever condone such irresponsible behaviour, of course, or that I even particularly wanted a threesome...but the thought of two guys ravenous for me was a surprisingly persistent fantasy for a while...

The fact that the two guys in question came out as a couple in our final year was little consolation.

I sighed deeply and put the memory out of my head and watched the green, rain-soaked land of Ireland fall away beneath the plane. A sense of optimism and excitement made my belly clench at the prospect of New York’s endless possibilities. Mary was right. I was more than ready for fun, freedom and adventure. And more than ready to turn that irritating recurring dream into a reality...with a far more satisfying ending.

* * *

Liam Sullivan was in a dangerous mood. He’d just had another frustrating argument with his old man and had left him sitting in a sea of empty beer and whiskey bottles. He unconsciously rode his bike even harder, coming to a screeching halt when the lights ahead turned red.

He needed to calm down before he did something stupid. Like cause an accident. This was his father’s modus operandi—fall off the wagon, go back on the wagon. Like clockwork. Two months on, one month off. Liam reassured himself that his father’s neighbour had promised to keep an eye on him. Dusk was falling over Manhattan and the late-summer air was muggy, heavy.

He was almost home but was loath to go back to his apartment over the bar right now. He had given himself a rare night off and wasn’t in the mood to see anyone he knew.

The lights went green and he let the bike roar underneath him again, relishing the power surge between his legs, wishing perversely that he could just keep going, right through the Lincoln Tunnel and out of this state altogether. All the way down to Mexico. But of course he couldn’t.

What did appeal right now was the thought of losing himself in a woman. A no-strings hookup. His speciality. No way was he ready to look for a “long-term partner” like his oldest buddy, Mike, who was settled out in trendified Brooklyn, walking around with a baby plastered to his front in a sling and a big sappy grin on his face, giving Liam the heebie-jeebies.

Liam was twenty-nine. He had eons before he had to think about all of that, and even then...he shuddered lightly. He wouldn’t. Flashes of his own fractured family threatened to put a downer on his mood again.

Just then he spotted a bar out of the corner of his eye and following the gut instinct to find some kind of distraction to dark thoughts, he found himself crossing three lanes of traffic to a parking spot.

* * *

‘Mary, everything worked out great, I got the keys to the apartment, I’m reviving Aunt June’s plants and she’s bent over like a pretzel at the ashram—it’s all good.’

Suddenly I spotted a bar that looked friendly and trendy. I was not the kind of person who relished drinking alone, but at that moment I fancied sitting at a bar savouring my arrival in New York, enjoying my independence and contemplating the untold adventures that lay ahead of me. I’d been looking for jobs all week since I’d arrived, with no luck, yet.

I cut my sister off midflow, ‘Gotta go, sis, I’ve just spotted a guy in a balaclava with a gun, I’m going to ask him what he’s doing. Talk later!’

I left her sputtering and cut off the connection. It never got old, freaking Mary out. Chuckling to myself, I tucked my phone into my back jeans pocket and walked into the bar. It was dimly lit, achingly hip. Funky electronic music. Along with a very cool-looking crowd. After all, this was the Lower East Side where hipsters prevailed.

I saw an empty stool at the bar, and as nonchalantly as I could, walked over and slid onto it. The bartender was there right away, ‘What can I get you, miss?’

Flustered, I thought quickly, ‘A beer. Please.’

He was back in seconds. ‘That’ll be five dollars.’

‘Thanks.’ I gave him the five dollars and he was already taking another order.

I took a long sip of the refreshing cold beer and put the bottle back down. I was aware of people on either side of me and snuck a look to my right. A girl had her back to me, talking to someone else. And then I heard a voice from my left.

‘You should leave a dollar down as a tip.’

Instantly, for no reason, I prickled at the slightly censorious tone. And then another part of me registered how deep the voice was and prickled with awareness.

Slowly, I looked to my left and blinked. Holy. Mother. Of God. Heat slammed into my gut. The guy sitting right beside me was ridiculously, crazily gorgeous.

Dark blond hair, curling, messy. Slightly overlong. Tanned skin. Gorgeous face but with an edge of ruggedness that cancelled out any prettiness. Even if he did have cheekbones that would make a woman weep with envy. A wide mouth, firm lips. His jaw was stubbled with a day’s growth.

But it was his eyes that dominated his face. Daniel Craig blue eyes. Piercing. Mesmeric. And looking right at me.

He quirked a brow, a small smile playing around that mouth. ‘You’re not from here, are you?’

I shook my head, still feeling as if someone had just hit me with a bat. How on earth had I not even noticed him? I could see that he was broad and powerful, even though he was sitting down. Faded T-shirt. I wanted to look down but didn’t. I was already imagining soft worn jeans highlighting powerful thigh muscles.

I found my voice. ‘No. I’m from Ireland. Dublin.’

‘I thought I recognized the accent. My family came from Waterford originally.’

‘You’re Irish?’ He didn’t look like any Irish guy I’d ever seen in my entire life. Ever. They must have infused the blood along the way, introducing a hefty dose of gorgeous Italian...or maybe Spanish. Maybe he was descended from the Vikings who had pillaged Ireland...I was losing the plot.

He grimaced. ‘Well. A few generations removed.’

No shit. More like eons.

He leaned back slightly, angled his body more toward me and something went properly on fire in my pants when I saw how broad his chest was. I imagined my clitoris vibrating gently in appreciation. His blue gaze dropped and then came back up. My nipples hardened into two stinging points just like that. Jesus wept. I was going to melt all over this stool.

‘So...what’s your name?’

‘Caitlin.’

He held out a hand. ‘Liam. Pleased to meet you, Caitlin.’

His voice saying my name curled right through me. I was almost afraid to touch him, but I put my hand in his and it was dwarfed. A hum of electricity seemed to shoot right to my clitoris, which was definitely vibrating now.

‘Nice to meet you, too, Liam.’

With a ridiculous sense of reluctance I took my hand back.

His voice seemed to get even deeper. ‘So what are you doing here? Holiday?’

Looking for you! I almost blurted out, because the realization was shocking and swift. This was my Faceless Dream Lover. In all his hard-packed muscled glory.

Chapter Two

As much as Liam wanted the distraction of sexual oblivion, he hadn’t actually come into this bar to pick up the first girl who sat down beside him. But then she’d walked in. Caitlin. Bringing with her an intoxicating scent of roses and musk.

The minute he’d looked at her, taking in the petite lithe body on the stool beside his, his brains had migrated southward so fast his head had spun.

Her small pale hands were on her bottle of beer, pulling at the label. He jerked his head toward it and tried to ignore the increasing pressure in his crotch against the unforgiving denim of his jeans. ‘You know they say that’s a sign of sexual frustration?’

Wide almond-shaped eyes of the deepest velvet brown went to his and she blushed. Blushed! He couldn’t remember the last time a girl had blushed in front of him.

But she recovered quickly. ‘Yeah, and people who say things like that have one-track minds.’

Her voice was husky. It had a direct effect on Liam’s body. He could feel the blood pumping to his cock in earnest now, making it harden and swell even more. He had to shift slightly to ease the discomfort, slightly perturbed by the strength of his reaction.

She pushed back some hair behind her ear, which was small and feminine. Her hair was long, below shoulder length, and wavy. A deep auburn colour. Her skin was creamy, flawless. Her mouth...was soft and full. Very kissable.

She glanced at him and his dick jerked. Damn.

‘I’m here for a while...not sure how long.’

Liam forced his mind out of his pants with an effort. ‘So you’re just...hanging out?’

She glanced away again and lifted one slim shoulder, ‘I guess. I’m looking for a job...’

Liam’s gaze narrowed on her, the sweeping curve of her delicate jaw. He sensed she was holding something back. But what did he care? All he knew was that the prospect of a little flirtation seemed to be exactly the thing to drive away the lingering broodiness that had clung to him since he’d decided to come into the bar.

‘Will you excuse me?’

Liam blinked, feeling slightly disorientated. She was looking at him with those mesmerizing eyes.

‘I’m just going to the bathroom.’

He found his voice. ‘Sure.’

She swivelled on the stool and jumped off and Liam was shaking his head at her lack of street smarts when she left her bag behind, but then his eyes tracked her as she walked away and his mind went blank.

He went from sixty to a hundred into a raging erection as he took in a very lush butt and slim legs encased in skinny jeans. She was lithe but deliciously curvy. When she turned to the side to let someone pass, he saw the thrust of small but succulently plump breasts push against her T-shirt. Their hard tips were defined and his mouth watered at the thought of baring her, and sucking one deep into his mouth, rolling his tongue around it. Teasing it with his teeth.

He turned back to the bar and pulled her bag close where he could keep an eye on it. Sweet Jesus. He was literally throbbing now, his jeans painfully restrictive. He scowled. That girl was trouble with a capital T. It might as well be a neon sign over her head with an arrow pointing downward. And damn it to hell if he didn’t want to take trouble for a ride, given half a chance.

* * *

I tried to walk away as elegantly as I could from the sex god at the bar. I hoped I wouldn’t trip and fall flat on my face. My body felt like it was overheating. Between my legs was indecently slick. I could feel it when I moved. When I eventually got to the bathroom I locked myself into a stall and took deep breaths, trying to calm my racing heart. Thankfully, it seemed that with a bit of distance my vibrating clitoris was also calming down.

Christ on a bike. There was no doubt about it. That man out there was fun, freedom and adventure all wrapped up in the sexiest packaging I’d ever seen in my life. And I’d only been in Manhattan for a week.

I huffed out a breath. Cool your jets, Caitlin. I was getting overexcited. The guy could be some kind of sexually deviant axe murderer.

But...a voice wheedled in my head, he was way too gorgeous to be a sexual deviant or a murderer. Actually, the thought of sexual deviance wasn’t so repugnant for a moment. Maybe I needed some kind of perversion to throw me over the elusive orgasmic edge.

A bit of ass-slapping or bondage? After all, wasn’t that all the rage these days? My bottom seemed to heat up at the very prospect.

I wondered vaguely how many things I could ask a man like him to try in the space of one night? My heart sped up again—what was I doing? Already having sex with the guy in my head just because we’d exchanged a few sentences and he was more beautiful than any man I’d ever seen? No doubt he was just being polite, humouring the tourist.

A quick glance in the mirror outside the toilet stall confirmed that I looked faintly manic. Cheeks flushed, eyes glittering. Nipples standing out like beacons saying bite me quick, suck me slowly! Just that thought...of his mouth latched onto one of my sensitized nipples nearly made my legs buckle.

Two girls came in then, chatting and laughing and I straightened up and walked out. As I approached him again he was turned to the bar, nursing his drink. I saw that he’d pulled my bag closer and had the strap looped around his wrist and something in me melted at that consideration. Normally I’d never be so careless...it just went to prove how fried my brain was.

His back was very broad, tapering down to slim hips. He was wearing jeans. His arms were muscled and just then he lifted his glass and the muscle bunched and flexed. And there went my clit again, as if a homing device had started back into action because I was only feet away from him.

As if sensing my intense focus, he turned just as I reached the stool. I clambered back up, but so inelegantly that he curled a hand around my upper arm to help steady me.

Instant heat liquefied what was left of my brain. His hand lingered on my arm even when I didn’t need it. I looked at him and my mouth got dry. Heart beating fast. Maybe the prospect of sex wasn’t so imaginary.

His eyes went to my mouth as if deliberately and then back up to meet my gaze. He was telling me he wanted me. Or was he? My body hummed with awareness and hope. His hand finally loosened on my arm, but he didn’t take it away, he let it drift down, fingers trailing suggestively, sexily, against my inner arm, making my skin tingle, touching off the side of my breast.

He was interested. No doubt now.

My heart pounded.

‘Can I get you another beer?’

I didn’t even look to see if my last one was finished. ‘Sure. Thank you.’ I sucked in oxygen as he looked away from me to get the barman’s attention, trying in vain to make the heat die down in my cheeks. And body.

I saw that he left a couple more dollars than required as the tip and said with some embarrassment, ‘I forgot...about leaving the tips here. We don’t do that at home.’

I noticed that his hands were big and masculine looking as he pushed the bottle of beer toward me. They looked like the kind of hands that could do some serious manual labour and those clever long fingers looked as if they could stroke a woman to an effortless orgasm.

Face burning at the rampant image of those fingers exploring my body, I vaguely heard him ask something. He was looking at me expectantly. Mortification burned me up. I was never this distracted by a guy.

‘I’m sorry, what?’

‘Where are you staying?’

His voice was so deep I felt it in the pit of my belly. Just like in my dream.

Seizing on banal conversation as if that might restore some sanity, I said, ‘Not far from here...my aunt’s apartment. I’m looking after it for a few weeks while she’s in India, until I find my own place.’

Liam frowned. ‘Is she from Ireland, too?’

I nodded and explained, ‘My father and aunt came to look for work when they were barely out of their teens, they got green cards. My father met my mother here—from home, too. Me and my older brother and sister were all born here, but we moved back to Dublin when I was still a baby. My aunt stayed on. She’s a bit eccentric.’

Liam quirked a half smile. ‘Plenty of those in New York. So what kind of work are you looking for?’

I had to rip my eyes off his mouth...that smile had just distracted me all over again. I dragged my wanton gaze away, focused on my beer.

‘I’ve got a degree in marketing and business...so I’ll be looking for an internship somewhere and then hopefully a job...but in the meantime I’m looking for waitressing or bar work to tide me over.’

‘So you’re staying awhile?’

I snuck him a look and all I could see were those amazing blue eyes. I nodded. ‘There’s not much going on at home. Recession.’

Jesus. I could hardly string a sentence together. In a bid to get his focus off me, I asked him, ‘So what about you? What do you do?’

Liam took a swig of his beer and I saw his Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed. Cue yet more heat between my legs. Was there nothing this man could do that I wouldn’t find a turn-on?

‘I manage a bar.’ He grimaced slightly. ‘Well, that’s to say, I sort of own it. It’s the family business. We do food during the day and then it’s a full bar at night. A good old-fashioned Irish American bar.’

Now I frowned and turned toward him. ‘Sort of own it?’

His eyes flashed as if he regretted letting that slip out. ‘I do own it, it’s just complicated because my old man is still alive, but he hasn’t been involved in the business for a long time.’

He looked away abruptly and I felt the keen sense not to push. Then he looked at me again and his eyes were searingly blue.

‘Do you want to get out of here?’

His words detonated any slim chance of me clinging onto any sense of sanity when I felt as though I was burning up from the inside out. No man, ever, had made me feel so aroused...or aware of myself.

I huffed a weak joke. ‘You’re not a psychopath, are you?’

He smiled and it was feral. ‘Would I tell you if I were?’

I swallowed and saw nothing but a heat haze of desire that seemed to cocoon us. I wanted this man’s mouth on mine...all over. I wanted to press against him so hard my body would leave an imprint on his.

He smiled then, making little bombs of sensation explode all over my skin. ‘No, I’m not a psychopath, Caitlin, although my buddy Mike might disagree when we watch the Knicks and they’re losing.’

I melted even more. Excitement seized my insides, making them tight. I wanted this guy. With a hunger I’d never experienced before. It was physical, visceral. Before I could lose my nerve, I said, ‘Yes, I’d like to leave.’

And then, just in case he was in any doubt I’d suddenly decided to leave without him, I added, ‘With you.’

Those blue eyes glittered.

‘I have a ride outside. Come on.’

He stepped from his stool and I knew there was no going back. He had to be at least six foot four. Broad all over, but lean. Clearly defined pectorals, flat belly. Slim hips. And the faded jeans. Clinging low to those hips. Muscled thighs.

I hadn’t even realized I’d been giving him such a thorough once-over until I heard a dry ‘Ready to go?’ and looked up to realize that he was holding my bag. My head nodded jerkily, blood pounding. I slipped off the stool and landed close to his body, and felt every inch of my very average five foot four next to his towering height.

His sheer size and masculinity overwhelmed me for a moment. He was too perfect. This couldn’t be happening. But I really hoped it was. He took my hand in his and I felt calluses on the palm. My legs were like jelly as he tugged me through the heaving bar.

The thought that I was being a complete slut to leave a bar with a guy I’d only met a scant hour before entered my head, but I quashed it. There was something different about him, trustworthy. No matter how desperate I was to embark on a pilgrimage of sexual adventure, I wasn’t completely stupid or without morals. Yeah, right.

He opened the door and we stepped out into the warm balmy Manhattan evening. The sky was a stunning dusky violet colour, completely clear. He was still holding my hand. He was even more gorgeous now, shadows making his face look all lean and stark. Dangerous. But in a sexy way. Not in a psychopathic way, I hoped, in spite of his joking.

His thumb swept across the pulse point at my wrist, and my legs wobbled. Right then I was prepared to take the risk.

The air seemed to sizzle between us, like a live current. He came close and let my hand go to lift his and slide it around the back of my neck. Every nerve point in my body sat up and vibrated gently, none more so than in my pants.

‘Caitlin...?’

The deep voice made my insides clench. I was fixated on his mouth.

‘Hmm?’

He cursed then, but I barely heard it before his head dipped and his mouth settled over mine. I had to clutch onto his T-shirt to stay standing. It was the kiss of my dreams. Forceful yet gentle. My mouth opened under his, eager to taste him, and his tongue touched mine in a teasing caress before his teeth nipped at my lower lip.

I fisted my hands in his T-shirt, the backs of my fingers grazing that hard wall of steel, and I went up on tiptoe. Angling my head, the kiss suddenly became deeper and I stroked my tongue along his. His hand clasped my head tighter, holding me captive.

I was drowning in sensations, eddying and swirling through my lower body. I wasn’t even aware of pushing my breasts against him, seeking to ease the stinging of my nipples.

After a long drugging moment when the entire world could have gone up in flames and combusted around me, Liam pulled back. I opened my eyes and felt dizzy. My lips were swollen, tingling. Those stunning blue eyes looked at me and he uttered, ‘Holy crap.’

Chapter Three

My thoughts exactly...if I could articulate a word. Suddenly he was pulling me by the hand toward a motorbike parked nearby. My insides turned to mush. Any vague resistance I might have put up died a death. He drove a freaking motorbike?

He let me go to reach for helmets and handed me one, an intent look on his face that was seriously sexy. I took my bag from him, too, which I had totally forgotten about and hung it diagonally across my body.

Once our helmets were on, he swung his leg over the bike and a fresh spasm of lust made me feel weak.

He held out an arm and I clasped it to steady myself as I swung my leg over the bike, too. His muscles bunched under my fingers. And then I was behind him, sliding down until his hard butt was right between my thighs, my throbbing clitoris practically singing for joy. The prospect of a first-time multiple orgasm was not that fantastical.

He turned his head and said, ‘Hang on.’

I needed no encouragement. I wound my arms around his torso, clasping my hands just over the waistband of his jeans. I felt his washboard abs contract as he turned the bike on and pushed down to make it roar. The friction against my jeans and between my legs was delicious torture.

We were about to move off and then he stopped and turned his head again. I heard him huff out a small laugh. ‘Your address?’

I called it out to him, relieved that he sounded as thrown as me by this. And then we were off, roaring down the quiet streets, block after block.

We weren’t that far from my apartment, so we were parking again just minutes later. I don’t think I could have lasted for much longer on the bike without sexually molesting him. The bulge in his pants had been grazing my fingers provocatively.

I got off first and pulled off the helmet, smoothing my hair. I felt nervous all of a sudden. But then he was getting off the bike and nerves dissolved as I devoured his tall lean form.

Please don’t let him be some rat who’s cheating on his girlfriend, I prayed silently. But to my shame, I wasn’t prepared to jeopardize this night and ask him to confirm he was single. I just trusted that he was a moral guy. Yeah, who takes a stranger home from a bar to shag her brains out. With any luck! I answered my snarky conscience.

He’d stashed the helmets again and was looking at me. It took me a second to act. I rooted around in my bag for the keys and went to the door, opening it.

I led the way upstairs, very conscious of him looking at my bum. I did a quick mental inventory of personal hygiene. I’d showered that afternoon between job hunts. And I’d done a complete body-hair-removal overhaul before leaving Dublin, mindful of being prepared at all times.

I now thanked God for my foresight. Even though, I worried my lower lip as my aunt’s brightly painted door loomed, I wasn’t an advocate of the completely shaven nether regions...so I hoped he wasn’t one of these men who fainted with shock to see that a woman actually grew pubic hair between her legs.

I had been with a guy in college who had literally gone green at the sight. Needless to say, that relationship had fizzled pretty quickly.

I opened the apartment door and the faint familiar smell of incense assailed my nostrils. I walked in and held the door back and waited, holding my breath.

Liam’s eyes met mine as he passed me and the air seemed to crackle with electricity. He smiled, slow and sexy. With a definite hint of wickedness. I sucked in a breath once he was in and closed the door and followed him, turning on lamps.

I realized then what he must be thinking as he looked around, and I said rather redundantly, ‘I did say my aunt was a bit eccentric.’

His voice was dry. ‘No shit.’

I had to smile at his tone. Each wall was painted a different colour. One wall sported a mural that looked suspiciously like a woman’s vulva, not that I even knew for certain what a vulva looked like even though I had one.

There were crystals in every window, dream catchers swinging in the warm breeze. Beaded chiffon throws over chairs and the couch. A big fat Buddha statue sat in a corner surrounded by unlit candles. It was bohemian-hippie chic, to say the least.

‘This is one hell of an apartment.’

My mouth was still quirking as I came to stand beside him. ‘My aunt is about seventy, even though she could pass for fifty. She’s on a yoga-and-meditation retreat in India right now. And her name is June, but she’s currently answering to the name Star. Last year it was Lakshmi, after the Indian goddess of abundance. She has a tattoo on her back of the phases of the moon.’

I was babbling now. Liam turned toward me. My pulse zoomed skyward again. Mouth dry, I forced myself to try to remember social niceties. ‘Do you...would you like a drink?’

He shook his head, ‘I don’t drink.’

I frowned. ‘But you were drinking in the bar.’

‘Nonalcoholic beer.’

‘But...why bother going in the first place?’

He shrugged minutely, and drawled, ‘Maybe I was hoping to run into you.’

I rolled my eyes, even as my pulse was going haywire. ‘Smooth, very smooth.’

He smiled. ‘I do try.’ And then, ‘I do have one question...’

I had to stop myself saying, yes to anything, if he would just keep smiling like that, and said, ‘What?’

He reached out and tugged me into him, and all my erogenous points zinged to life.

‘Do you have protection here? Because I wasn’t exactly...expecting this, and I’m so hot for you that I didn’t think to stop on the way.’

I’m so hot for you.

I think I actually fainted with shock for a few seconds, while staying standing. I couldn’t be entirely sure I wasn’t going to wake up any minute now, masturbating myself again...but I blinked, and he didn’t move. I wasn’t dreaming. I was sizzling.

I liked the fact that he obviously wasn’t some lothario with a string of condoms in his pocket, while also feeling thankful that I’d bought a hopeful stash yesterday. And I was on the pill, but knowing most guys’ predilection for going without, given half a chance, I kept that to myself. Safety came first, even when auditioning for the starring role in Caitlin Does Liam.

I nodded, my voice was rough with desire. ‘In the bathroom.’

His eyes darkened and his hands tightened on my waist, fingers touching my bare skin underneath the hem of my T-shirt. ‘Good.’

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