The Ending I Want Page 12

Liam stares at me for a long moment, and then he gently presses his lips to my forehead.

I rest my head back down on his chest, running my fingers over his chest hair.

It’s not long before I hear his breathing even out, and I realize he’s fallen asleep.

I don’t want to overstay my welcome, and I want this moment to be what it was supposed to be—a one-time thing with a stranger.

Only Liam doesn’t feel so much like a stranger anymore.

I gather up my clothes in the dark. But I can’t find my panties.

Not wanting to wake him, I forego my panties, and I quickly dress out in the hall.

Then, I go to the kitchen and get my bag. My shoes are still by the front door, so I put them on, grab my suitcase, and let myself out of his apartment.

I take the elevator down.

The night watchman is still on the desk, so I ask him to call me a cab.

The cab turns up five minutes later. The cabbie puts my suitcase in the trunk.

I take a seat in the back. “Hunter Hotel,” I tell him.

I give one last look to Liam’s building, touching a hand to my lips. I smile at the memory he’s just given me, but feel a twinge of sadness that I won’t see him again.

I wake to the sound of a phone ringing. Really fucking loudly. It takes me a moment to realize that it’s the hotel room phone. Reaching out a hand, I grab the receiver of the phone on the nightstand beside my head.

“Hello?” My voice sounds rough.

I didn’t get much sleep last night. I couldn’t stop thinking about Liam. About the sex I had with Liam. And I was wishing that I’d stayed with him. That I was waking up with him and not to this ringing phone.

“Guess what I have in my hand?”

Liam?

“Liam?”

“The one and only.”

It’s him. A big smile spreads across my face.

“How do you know which hotel I’m staying in?” I ask.

“I have my ways. So, are you going to guess what I have in my hand?”

“No. I’m more concerned with your stalking abilities.”

Honestly, I couldn’t care less. I’m glad he found me. I just like playing with him.

He sighs. “You flew with my company. You’re staying in one of my hotels. I have access to the agents you booked with. It wasn’t hard to find out which hotel you were staying at. All it took was one phone call.”

“Did you make the call?”

“No, my assistant did,” he says, sounding like there’s absolutely nothing wrong with that.

I laugh. “Do you do anything yourself, Hunter?”

“Of course I do. I give amazing head. I fuck—hard.” That makes me shiver. “And I cook stir-fry for list-making Bostonians who won’t stop asking questions.”

I laugh again. I love that he makes me laugh.

“You did cook for me. You also gave me amazing head—my first ever—and you fucked me very well.”

“Why, thank you, ma’am,” he says, his accent thickening. “Now, are you going to answer my question?”

“Which was?”

“What do I have in my hand?”

“I don’t know. My ability of foresight was slightly hampered by a phone ringing and waking me at the butt-crack of dawn.”

“It’s not the butt crack of dawn. It’s ten a.m. I’ve been up and working for hours. Wait, you’re in bed?”

“I am.” I stretch out in the warmth of the bed.

“What are you wearing?”

I bite down on the smile that I’ve been wearing since I heard his voice down the line. “I thought you wanted me to guess what you have in your hand.”

“I want to know what you’re wearing more.” His voice has dropped an octave lower and sounds all sexy and seductive.

“Pajama shorts and a top.” Why did I tell him that? I should have said something sexier than pajamas.

But then his resounding moan tells me that I said the right thing.

“Your knickers,” he says, his voice sounding rough.

“I’m knickers?”

“No, you’re not knickers. I have your knickers in my hand.”

“Do you mean, my panties?” I giggle at the word knickers. It sounds so funny.

“Say that again.” His voice is raspy.

“What? Panties?”

“Yeah. It sounds sexy as fuck when you say it.”

“Panties,” I say again, elongating the word to tease him.

And it works.

I hear him groan.

“Turned on?” I ask.

“Like you wouldn’t fucking believe.”

That has me pressing my thighs together.

“So, yeah”—he clears his throat—“I have your panties. The panties you left at my place after you snuck out this morning.”

“I didn’t sneak out this morning. I left after you fell asleep last night.”

“Same thing.”

He doesn’t sound happy that I left. I’m surprised at that.

“Aw, don’t you like being snuck out on, Hunter? Or is it usually you doing the sneaking out?”

“I don’t sneak out on a woman. I just tell her that I’m leaving after I’m done fucking her.”

“What if she’s at your place?”

“Then, I pass her, her coat, tell her thank you very much, and show her to the door.”

“Nice. So, why didn’t you show me to the door?”

“Because I wasn’t done with you.”

“You weren’t done?” I let out a nervous laugh, unsure of where this conversation is heading.