CHAPTER 29
Liam appears in the living room all freshened up. He looks better than before, smells splendidly, and I fail to hide my smile at the sight of him.
"Done?" I ask.
"Yes, let's go." He hauls me by the waist.
We head outside and slip into the Aston Martin. Liam reverses it towards the gate, his eyes between the rear and the front. I didn't know a man could cause uproar with the mare sight of him driving.
"Oh, I love him," I think out loud, dreamily.
"What?" Liam utters.
"Oh, I was talking about—“ I stammer, feeling coy.
"About who?" Smiling, he halts the car in the middle of the driveway, his eyes mocking with a fine twinkle.
"You,” I breathe, my voice softer and lower. “That I love you.” My heart beats faster as the words come out.
Liam's eyes glisten in that shade of blue as though he's been longing to hear me saying the words. I feel sceptered at the way he looks at me, so promising, so devouring . . . and I so love it.
He moves close, too close that I start feeling the heat heightening in my blood: but my body stays fixed on the passenger seat, making me anticipate for his next move. Is another kiss happening? I want his lips, now.
Right next to my face, smiling, Liam bends over and tugs something from my seat . . . the seatbelt? I can’t tell until he fastens the seatbelt on me, and then breaks into the sweetest grin.
Ah, this jerk!
"I love you, too, Kira Jones." Liam manages to light up my face for a change as these words slip out of his mouth, staring deeply at me.
And It's a cue for me to do what he's failed to. Seizing his face, I spare not his lips and he grants me the access so easily. His body leans over mine, arms wrapped around my waist, and his warmth does the magic. We kiss slowly, and it's quite a delicious one, leaving me with butterflies.
"Your lips taste heavenly, Mr. Darcy," I whisper, my eyes tender on his, and we both laugh.
"Aren't you getting a bit too daring recently?" He looks amazed, happy.
"I have you to blame," I answer, and he laughs more.
***
We had delicious pasta and meatballs at this fancy Italian restaurant. I specifically made sure Liam wiped off his plate without complaints, and he did as much. Now we're strolling alongside the ocean with our takeaway coffee, holding hands like good lovers should.
Smiling without any reason, I sip on my cold Latte, and Liam his second cup of Americano. This feels right. My hair flips accordingly to the breeze, giving me a hard time and a feel of resentment shoots for having too massive hair. I should've left my two braids.
"Shouldn't we do something about your hair?" Liam looks up at me.
"Like what?" I flush.
"Wait a minute." Liam gulps the rest of his coffee and throws away the cup. "Let me see what I can do to this beautiful hair." He moves tentatively behind my back.
What is up to? My curiosity is at its peak, waiting with so little patience. Carefully, Liam collects my hair into a thick bun, his fingers grazing my ears at his grand efforts to seize every strand into one piece.
Oh my! My subconscious jumps up and down, excited.
I hold my breath in anticipation of Liam’s next move, and he takes his white handkerchief, and then uses it to tie my hair. Wow! It's not the perfect bun, but comfortable enough. Plus, I appreciate the efforts more than the results.
"Wow, Mr. Darcy! May I know where you learned the trick?" I whirl around to face Liam.
He shrugs. "I'm a man of many talents, Ms. Jones, and you look good wearing my handkerchief,” he teases, smiling.
I squint my eyes dubiously. "Why does the compliment sound like a mockery? Do I really look good, Mr. Darcy?" My voice is strangely playful.
"Well, you do. Trust me." He moves closer, fixing the bun once more to his liking.
Oh, I love this! I'm sure I look like Minnie mouse but I don't care, if it means seeing Mr. Intense happy and content as he is right now.
We continue walking. Liam is a little farther, avoiding the ocean, a smile on his face. He's holding my sandals, watching my childish acts as I get my feet inside the water. The feel is celestial when small waves crush against my legs.
I'm dying to pull him here, but I wonder what strategy to employ. He's wearing a white T-shirt, denim shorts and Reebok's waterproof slippers, which suggests that I can do as I please . . . right?
"Oh no," I suddenly moan, feigning a muscle cramp or something.
As expected Liam rushes towards me. "What? What's wrong?" He looks startled, hands on my leg.
"It hurts," I tell him, and he frowns while taking a close look.
"Here?" He touches the back of my leg.
“Yes?” I fail not to giggle, and he immediately catches on.
He casts me a glare, and slowly gets up, with this dark look that shuts me up in an instant.
Oh no! Is he angry? Please, don't be angry.
"Don't blame me for this, Kira," he mutters threateningly.
"What—“ I’m stunned when he quickly throws his shoes to the shores before lifting me into his arms. "Liam, what are you doing?" I start wriggling, and he laughs soundly, threatening to throw me in the water.
"I'm only doing you a favor, don't you love swimming?" he mocks, and I keep screaming his name.
"Please, I don't have anything to wear, Liam." I continue my pleads filled with both happiness and worries that he might actually do as he says.
It goes on for almost a minute, and he has a great deal of pleasure.
"Do you promise to graduate from kindergarten now?" he queries, and his question doesn't stop me from laughing.
"Okay, I'll do that," I surrender, laughing and he graces me few giggles. "I'm sorry for tricking you." I give out the lamest apology, clinging onto his neck tightly.
He downs his laughing face to meet mine, and a sweet kiss follows. Like a punishment of a kind, he makes it short, just when it's getting better.
"You want more?" he asks, and I nod. "Well, work for it."
"Scheming Englishman." I pout.
"Thank you, American swindler," he retorts, and we keep laughing like crazy. Oh, this is sweet. Where has he been all my life?
We're are now relaxing on the white sand. I'm sitting between Liam's legs, and he behind me. Reclining comfortably against his nestling chest, I feel I'm in heaven as the cool breeze serenade my ears, its voice harsh yet soothing. My water goddess is on her throne, smiling.
We take a silence oath for a while, doing nothing but watching the ocean waves crashing each other, rising and falling, and the birds flocking in the sky above, A phone call drags me to out of my reverie. I frown, but immediately smile at the caller's ID.
"It's Malik," I tell Liam, and he picks up.
"What do you want?" he asks, his voice cool. "I knew it was you so cut it out." He now smiles, kissing my hair. "Oh, so have you solved it?" he asks, and a little scowl appears between his brows. "Not at all, we're just around Dolce Italian and you're disturbing us, so I'm hanging up," he casually snaps and what follows is a very long laugh.
What are they scheming? My subconscious hates being left out. Liam hangs up, still laughing, and it drives me nuts that I don't know the details.
"Hey, why didn't you let me talk to him?" I whine.
"Because he doesn't have anything important to say," Liam replies. "Besides, this is our time, baby; just you and me." He urges me to lie back against him, and I do it with pleasure.
The evening is so far proceeding smoothly. Liam and I talk about anything and everything. He questions about my life at the orphanage, and I tell him the details with a big smile. I feel free conversing with him.
"I can't say we were too deprived of happiness," I tell him while toying with his fingers. ‘’They treated us okay and I'm naturally not fussy. But I did miss my parents at times, especially when I was down for some reasons." I glance up at him, and he smiles tightly.
"So, when exactly did you leave the orphanage?" His voice is gentle, laced with melancholy.
"Um, when we were thirteen we went to this foster home. A woman took care of us and other kids until we turned of legal age," I say. "Sam and I refused to be separated; there was a time that I nearly got adopted by some Italian couple, but I ran away."
"Why?" His eyes widen.
"I never wanted to leave Sam alone,” I breathe, smiling sadly.
"And then what happened?" Liam sounds pretty interested to know more about me, but I'm not as ready to open up as I thought.
However, I'm glad he doesn't ask about my parents and anything regarding their death. It's still a tough subject for me.
"I hid to a place where only Sam knew, and she'd bring me food and water for three days, until mother Clara busted us and gave us a long lecture." My smile is bittersweet.
Luckily the couple decided to choose another kid with similar color as theirs. Sam and I made a pact to never leave each other's side no matter what. I don't tell Liam this part of the story, though.
"Okay, that's enough for today," Liam says as though at knowledge that I'm beginning to feel overwhelmed.
He cocoons me with his arms, and a soft sigh escapes my lungs. I don't want to spoil the moment, hence I change the subject.
"Do you happen to know Sheila Mateo?" I peek at him over my shoulder, and he seems to be thinking. "The brunette who left with Malik this morning."
"Malik left with her?" he queries.
I face back the ocean and say, "Yeah, and she looked pretty much upset. You know her?"
"Yes, I do know her," Liam replies heedlessly.
It sounds like he doesn't want to say much but I don't think I'm ready to settle for so little information about the pretty woman and Mr. Loaded.
"Are they in a relationship?" I take my chances.
Liam takes his time to answer, "They do share a history."
Oh? How elusive!
"Any romance involved?" I keep prying.
"Maybe in the past," Liam answers me anyway, "but it's strictly professional now." He leans over to kiss my shoulder, his lips soft against my skin. I flex. "I hate talking of other people so let's forget about Sheila."
Well, neither do I, but sometimes we live for curiosity.
"You're right, you might start thinking I'm a gossip." I pout.
"A gossip? No.” Liam laughs heartily. “Perhaps a little snoopy."
"I'm not snoopy," I strongly deny. "It's not my fault that your friend has a reputation of his own."
"Not everything you read about him is true," Liam argues. "Those people who call themselves journalists are capable of making up just anything so as to sell whatever they have to."
Apparently I'm witnessing the male solidarity, and I must admit that I like hearing this from Liam. Malik always speaks highly of him, so it's nice knowing that he too has a high opinion of his best friend.
"And you? Why don't they write those sickening stuff about you?" I stare at him this time, determined to see his answer.
I hope it's not a filthy one.
"I just try to make my life private, that's all," he gives me a short and direct answer.
I don't like it.
"Does this mean you do fuck around but never gets caught?" I ask hesitantly.
"I don't fuck around, Ms. Jones." Liam responds calmly, smiling repellently. "But that doesn't mean I've never gone out with a woman. I don't celibate, just so you know."
Yeah, yeah . . . and you just had to be blunt about it! My sex goddess curls her lips wickedly.
"I see," is the only decent response that comes from my mouth, other than the crooked one in my thoughts.
I go silent, embracing this feeling of same color as . . . jealousy?
"Are you okay?" Liam queries softly.
"Yes." I nearly roll my eyes.
Does he think I'm dancing with joy hearing about his sex life? But wait, I asked for this, so why am I getting all wrecked up? I sigh heavily mentally.
It's crazy how we, women, tend to start a fire with nothing to cook sometimes, and end up burning ourselves.
Smiling, Liam says, "You're so predictable, Kira."
"What?" I snort, and he deftly pulls me in his arms, hugging me tighter.
I easily oblige, stilling in his brace.
"But maybe I could start fucking around with you, and just you, if you agree to be mine," Liam whispers in my ear, and I burst into a laughter.
And I regret using the F word with him, because hearing him using it, in that accent of his, stirs my hormones.
"What are you saying now, Mr. Darcy?" I flush crimson.
Liam shrugs. "I don't know what you did to me to make me fall for you the minute I first saw you. And you were wearing the same dress you're wearing right now."
He remembers? I feel privileged.
"You have a great memory," I breathe.
"That I do; however, it is not the only reason why I remember,” Liam says coolly. My eyebrow rises speculatively. “There was a coffee incident, plus the insolent gaze you kept throwing at me as though challenging my intelligence.” He grins.
"Say what?” I feel wrongly accused. “I was never insolent. It's you who was quite rude, or maybe cold . . . I don't know how to put it."
"No, I think people confuse between being reserved and being cold. Not talking as much doesn't necessarily mean rudeness. I refuse to think I'm rude, for it's one of the reasons I don't make unnecessary comments on people and situations."
"Wow," I utter. "You're quite persuasive, Mr. Darcy, I'm already agreeing with you."
"Crazy." He kisses the top of my head,