Love Handles (Oakland Hills #1)(105)

He lifted himself up on one arm and frowned down at her. “This thing pulls out into a bed?”

She nodded, imagining how happy Engineering would be to have him back. Bev never did get a handle on all that garment construction stuff. And the sales guys would throw him a party.

“Well, come on.” He lifted her up to her feet. He tore off the cushions, found the handle to the mattress frame and tugged it out, never taking his eyes off of her.

“Hi,” she said shyly. He’d unhooked her bra, and she could feel her breasts heavy under her shirt. His eyelids fell, and she saw the humor drain out of him, the facade of mockery gone, leaving in its place hard, raw desire. For her.

She glanced past him at the bed, very glad she’d splurged on the expensive cotton sheets, the down comforter, extra pillows; he wouldn’t know she’d been curling up every night under a scrap of fleece that had failed its pill and color transfer testing.

He held out a hand. His eyes, nearly black, searched her face, then dropped down over her body.

She lifted her shirt over her head, taking the unfastened bra with it, and dropped it on the floor. With eyes locked with his she slid her pants over her hips, slowly, shifting to one side to show him the curve of her ass.

He tore off his own shirt and shoes and pants and boxers and socks before she had worked her ankles free. He was very ready. She stared down at him, her heart beating too fast, and she fell on top of him on the thin, squeaking mattress. His mouth whispered love in her ear and his hands roaming over her body like a gale. She lifted her knees to straddle him, interrupted by his fingers slipping under her panties and between her legs, everywhere. She traced his collarbone, the hard curve of his shoulder, and swiveled her hips hungrily to meet his, his erection sliding along the cleft of her bottom.

He groaned and pushed out from under her, pinned her to the bed. “Not yet, sweetheart.” Locks of his hair tickled her belly as he leaned down to remove her panties. She arched her back to help, and he got distracted, staring at her breasts, then fell on top of her to suck and lick and tease until the desire in her belly wound tighter and tighter and she pounded on his back to ease the torment.

“Now!” she gasped.

But he laughed silently, mouth wet on another part of her, sucking her fingers, licking her, bending her back and over and around with maddening, impossible need. She met his passion with hard need of her own, and blind hunger, and love, and he slid inside of her just at the moment she needed him most. She cried out and spun out of herself, just right, with him.



They made love a second time in the elevator, with poor Ball tucked into her carrier in the corner. Liam was glad only he knew about the security camera, though Bev gave him a suspicious look when he hung his shirt over the box in the ceiling before hitting the emergency stop button.

He didn’t care about the million-dollar parking ticket, or the cat vomiting on the seat, just that he got Bev to his torn-up condo as soon as possible—not just for a third go, but to ease his mind and close the deal. Once her suitcase and cat were at his place, and that damn bachelor pad’s of Ed’s was safely converted to cubicles, he could relax and believe he was really going to get what he wanted.

“What happened?” Bev asked when she saw his decimated kitchen.

He came up behind her and hooked his hands around her waist. “I thought I’d lost you, so I had to keep busy.” Then he swore, remembering the bathroom. The drop-cloths over his bedroom floor. He’d have to keep her so distracted in bed she didn’t notice.

“I kind of did the same thing,” she said. “I would have done anything to keep Fite up and running. Since it was all I had left.”

“You did amazingly well. Your grandfather wasn’t crazy after all. I should have trusted him.”

Bev gazed into his eyes. “Do you really believe that?”

“Unfortunately. His evil plan for me to seduce you turned out to be just the thing.” He rested his chin on the top of her head. “You’re not a bad boss and you’re very creative with the bennies.”

She tensed. “But that’s all over.”

He turned her around in his arms. “Bev . . . ”

“Being the boss, I mean.” She rolled her eyes. “See? This is what I’m talking about. I haven’t convinced you of diddly squat.”

He let out his breath. Pulled her close. “Just keep telling me. It’ll sink in eventually.”

“I love you, I love you, I love you.”

He smiled. Felt her up. “Good.”

“No, you’re just being polite. That’s why I made you choose. So you’d know, in your bones.”

He pressed his hips against her. “Oh, my bones know.”

“I’ll work a few more weeks. Then it’ll be yours again.” She pulled out of his arms and ran a hand through her tangled hair, frowning. “You got a working shower in this place? I’d really like to—”

He snorted. “A few more weeks. Right.”

“So you know I’d rather have you than Fite.” She went over and stuck her head in the fridge. “I wonder if I can get a job at Levi’s or something. I can’t imagine going back to teaching now.”

He shook his head, smiling, and captured her from behind again. “You do whatever you like. Buy a doughnut shop. Teach molecular biology at Cal. Hang out in my bed, naked, while I bring home the bacon—”