The Ending I Want(6)
I lean away. “Nothing. It’s just private.”
“I think you and I are past private. You just had your tongue in my mouth.”
“So? Y-you had your tongue in my mouth.” And I’m five years old.
A smile slides onto those awesome lips of his. “And I am more than willing to put my tongue back in there. Just say the word.”
I roll my eyes. “You’re not kissing me again”—why did I say that? I would totally kiss him again. Sometimes, I could really slap myself—“and you’re not reading my list either.”
“Okay. Whatever you say.” He leans back in his chair, stretching his legs out the best he can with the limited room he has.
And I relax in the knowledge that we’re past this conversation.
Until the bastard snatches my list from my lap.
“Hey!”
Liam turns away, so all I’m getting is his back as I try to grab my list.
“Give me that back!”
“Go to England. Kiss a stranger. Have lots of sex,” his deep voice rumbles out the words I wrote.
He glances at me over his shoulder, a shit-eating grin on his face.
I don’t even bother with trying to get the list back now. What’s the point? He’s already seen it.
Bastard.
I fall back into my seat, my face feeling like a blowtorch went at it. “You’re an asshole,” I mutter.
He turns to face me, my list in his hand but still held out of my reach. “Aw, don’t be like that, Taylor, from Boston. I was just curious to read it.”
I’m pretty sure he’s going for contrite, but he’s failing miserably.
I glare at him. I’m going for death-by-laser stare.
It doesn’t work because he gives me a panty-dropping smile. I’d like to say I’m unaffected, but I’m not; however, I don’t let him know that.
“Curious? I don’t think so. An effing thief? Yes.”
He laughs. “I’m sorry. But you don’t need to be embarrassed. It’s a good list.” He looks back to my list. “Have sex with a stranger,” he continues on reading. “Have sex with a stranger outdoors. You do know I can help you with all of these, right?” He lifts a brow at me.
I give him the middle finger.
He laughs again and looks back to the list. Then, he stops laughing and stares at me with what can only be described as complete horror. “You’ve never had oral sex?”
Fuck.
Why the hell did I put that on my list?
Because I wasn’t expecting someone else to read it.
Mortification fills every part of me, and my face starts to burn.
Fighting against my discomfort, I fold my arms over my chest and lift my chin. “So what if I haven’t had oral sex? It’s not like it’s the law, you know.”
“Well, it fucking should be. I just…” He scratches his head. “How in the hell has someone who looks like you not had a guy go down on her before? I’d think men would be queuing up, begging to do it.”
“Clearly, they haven’t been,” I mutter, turning my eyes away.
“Well, we need to rectify this immediately,” he says, determination in his voice, yanking my eyes straight back to his.
“What?” I squeak.
“I’m going to make you come with my mouth, and tongue.”
Holy Mary, Mother of God!
“I’m not going in the airplane restroom with you.” My voice is still squeaky, and that burn of embarrassment has turned into a total hot flush.
A deep rumble of a laugh escapes Liam. “Trust me, gorgeous, there would be nothing more uncomfortable than me trying to go down on you in an airplane bathroom. The first time you have oral sex, it should be fucking stupendous, something you’ll never forget. So, the moment we land, you and I are going straight to my place, and I’m going to strip you naked and give you the pleasure of my tongue. For hours.”
Hours?
My insides wobble. But my voice is clear. “I don’t think so.”
What?
“Why not?” He frowns.
Yeah, Taylor, why not?
“Because I don’t want a pity fuck.”
He shifts in his seat, facing me. “One, not fucking you would be the pity. And, two, I never said I was going to fuck you. I said I was going to give you oral sex.”
“Well, I don’t want pity oral sex then.”
“Believe me, there’ll be nothing pitiful about it. Just mind-blowing fucking pleasure.”
A hot rush of heat hits me straight between my legs. I squeeze my thighs together.
He notices and grins.
I put my hands on my lap, covering my lady parts. “I’m not going to your place with you,” I tell him. “I don’t know you. You’re a stranger. You might be a serial killer.”