“Liam!” she said. “That is…That is unbelievable!”
He grinned at the shocked expression on her face then watched her closely as he slicked a finger over the hard little button hidden between her folds. She shuddered, her breasts rising dramatically as she pulled in a lungful of air.
“Don’t stop,” she begged. “Whatever you’re doing, don’t stop.”
He lowered his head and took a nipple into his mouth, his finger sliding over and over her, delving deeper, lower with each rotation until, finally, he was at her hot entrance and she was tilting her hips in wordless invitation.
He sucked hard on her nipple as he slid his finger inside her. Slick, hot muscle closed around him, so tight and wet he groaned.
“Take your jeans off. I want to see you. I want to touch you,” Zoe panted.
She drove her fingers into his hair and dragged his head up from her breasts so he was forced to look her in the eye.
“I want you to be my first, Liam. I want to sleep with you,” she said.
His hard-on throbbed at the thought of being inside her, taking what she was so generously, passionately, warmly offering.
He loved her. She was so beautiful. Never more so than right at this moment, with her eyes clouded with desire and her face flushed.
“I want to touch you,” she said again. His hand stilled between her legs as she slid her own hand down his body to where his cock was pressed against her thigh. He closed his eyes as she smoothed her hand along his length, her caress firm through his jeans.
“I don’t care about anything else. I just want you. I’ve always wanted you,” she said.
“I’ve always wanted you,” he said as her fingers found the stud on his jeans. She popped it free and pulled his zipper down. He held his breath as her hand worked its way inside his jeans.
She found him, her fingers encircling him, tentative at first but with more confidence as she felt how hard he was, how much he wanted her.
“How can it be so soft and so hard at the same time?” she asked.
“How can you be so hot and so wet?”
She laughed and smoothed her hand up and down his shaft. He began to move his finger again, slicking over and over her. She dropped her head back and lifted her hips.
“Please, Liam. Please,” she begged.
He didn’t know why he wasn’t tearing her jeans off, why he wasn’t inside her already. This was his every fantasy come true—beautiful, sleek, sweet Zoe in his bed, panting for him, her hands on him, pleading with him to take her. How many times had he lain here in the dark of night, his hand wrapped around his own hardness as he imagined her begging like this, imagined the taste of her, the feel of her?
Too many. Almost every night since he’d moved in with the Fords after his mom died. A whole year.
She made a disgruntled noise when he pulled his hand free from her jeans but she smiled when he popped her jeans open and his fingers found the tab on her zipper.
“Yes. Finally!” she said as he tugged it down.
She was wearing plain white panties with some kind of writing on them. It wasn’t until she was lifting her hips to help him slide them off that he realized what they said.
Friday’s Child Is Loving and Giving.
He stilled, the only sound his harsh breathing as he stared at the words, emblazoned across the plumpness of her mons, the darkness of her pubic hair showing faintly through the thin white cotton.
Loving and giving. That was exactly what Zoe was. She was also smart, brave, stubborn. She could sketch and draw like no one he’d ever known, and she never backed off from a challenge.
Never wore skirts, either, or makeup. Knew how to change the starter motor in her father’s old Mini. How to throw a cricket ball and kick a football.
She had no idea how gorgeous she was. How many of the guys at school watched her when she walked past in her jeans and T-shirts with no bra. Her green eyes, the perfect oval of her face, the dimple in her chin. In a few years’ time, she was going to understand how much she was worth, how precious she was.
“Liam,” she said, wiggling her hips impatiently. “Hurry up!”
She was going to regret this moment. After all, who was he? Liam Masters, thick as two planks if his teachers were to be believed. Homeless, parentless. Alone, destined for nothing. Staying here with the Fords was the first lucky break he’d had in his life. He didn’t expect it to last, or to change anything, despite how hard Mrs. Ford was campaigning for him to repeat a year so he could get better marks and apply to university.
He knew who he was, what he was. He’d learned it young, at his father’s knee.
There was no way he was good enough for Zoe Ford. Certainly not good enough to be her first.
“What? What’s wrong?” Zoe propped herself up on both elbows to stare at him.
“I can’t do this.”
He grabbed the waistband of her jeans and pulled them up. She resisted, a frown on her face.
“What? What do you mean? I don’t understand.”
“We’re not going to do this, Zoe. You need to get dressed and go back to the house.”
She stared at him, her mouth open. He could see the hurt in her eyes as desire was replaced by confusion.
“Did I—Did I do something wrong?” she asked. “Tell me what to do, what to say, and I’ll do it, Liam.”
“You need to get dressed,” he said again.
He tugged the two sides of her jeans together and pulled up the zipper. She pushed his hands away from the stud when he went to close it.
“I don’t understand what’s happening,” she said.
There were tears in her eyes. She pushed herself backward on the bed and pulled her knees up to her chest. “Liam, please. Don’t do this.”
“This is a big mistake. I’m doing you a favor,” he said.
He tucked himself back into his jeans and zipped himself up. Then he stood at the end of the bed, looking down at her.
“You need to go before someone catches you in here,” he said.
She blinked away tears. “Is that what you’re worried about? Someone finding us? Because I would never tell, Liam. I love you. You know that. I’d never get you in trouble.”
“You’re fifteen, Zoe. Tom trusts me, your parents trust me. They took me in.”
She shook her head. “Bull. This isn’t about my parents or my brother. Tell me what’s really wrong. Is it because I’m a virgin? Or is it my boobs? I know they’re small but I didn’t think you’d mind. Mom said they’ll get bigger as I get older…”
Liam swore under his breath and raked a hand through his hair.
“It’s nothing to do with you, Zoe. It’s me, okay? You don’t want me to be your first.”
“I do. More than anything.”
She stared at him with her big trusting eyes, so earnest and open and honest.
“You have no idea who I really am.” He thought of the girls he’d slept with, the fights he’d had, the things he’d stolen, the lies he’d told. He thought of him and his mom escaping into the night with their lives crammed into a single black garbage bag thanks to his old man. “You don’t want me.”
Zoe shook her head. “I do. You’re the only one I want.”
She swung her legs over the edge of the bed and stood. Her arms were crossed over her chest as she moved to stand in front of him. She bared herself so that she could reach for his hands, pulling them toward her.
“I want you. See?” she said, pressing his hands against her breasts.
Her eyes, her face pleaded with him. He felt the warm softness of her beneath his hands. Wanted so much to haul her to him and take what she was offering.
He forced himself to keep his hands unresponsive, to push her away instead of drawing her closer. She gasped.
He stooped to grab her T-shirt.
“Get dressed,” he said.
She just stared at him, her arms once more crossed protectively.
“I love you, Liam,” she said. “Please don’t do this.”
“You’ll thank me one day,” he said.
He dropped the T-shirt onto the end of the bed and turned his back on her, walking to the window so he wouldn’t have to look at her a second longer. He would never forget how she looked, standing there with her eyes so full of pain and confusion.
The rush of movement and the sound of the door slamming signaled her exit. He closed his eyes.
So close. He’d come so close to taking something that wasn’t his. Something perfect.
He crossed to the bed and sat on the edge, his head in his hands. Images from the past few minutes flashed across his mind. Zoe’s breasts, damp from where he’d kissed her. Her eyes, heavy with need. The hitch in her breathing when he’d slid his hand between her legs.
He knew what he had to do. He pulled out the duffel bag from beneath his bed. It didn’t take him long to pack. Life had taught him to travel light. He hesitated a moment before grabbing the photograph he kept hidden in the biker magazines beside his bed. Tom and him and Zoe, laughing last summer as they attacked each other with water pistols. He slid it into his back pocket then headed for the door.
His motorbike was in the garage and he wheeled it carefully past Mr. Ford’s Mini and Mrs.
Ford’s sensible Volvo wagon. He propped it on its stand at the end of the driveway in the circle of light from a streetlamp and settled in to wait for Tom to come home.
Liam was stiff and his ass was numb from sitting on the cold concrete curb before Tom turned the corner at two in the morning. Liam stood as his friend stopped in front of him, a smile on his face.
“Mate. What are you doing out here?” Tom was hazy-eyed, a bit drunk. “Why’d you leave so early, you bastard? Party was just getting started. Sally was mighty pissed with you, let me tell you.”
Then he registered Liam’s bike, the duffel bag strapped on the back. His smile faded.
“What’s going on?”
“I’m heading off. Time to move on,” Liam said.
Tom frowned. “What? What do you mean?”
“Don’t want to overstay my welcome,” Liam said with a shrug.
“No way. You can’t go like this. Mom’ll freak out. Dad’ll have a cow. God knows what Zoe will do. You know she worships the ground you freakin’ walk on.”
Liam pulled the letter he’d written from his back pocket. It wasn’t much—a bare thanks, a thin explanation, plus all the cash he had on him to pay for his bills to date. It would have to do.
Tom stared at the envelope, refusing to take it.
“I can’t believe you’re serious. What happened? Have you heard from your dad? If he’s hassling you, we can go to the cops,” Tom said.
“I just have to go.”
Tom stared at him, his green eyes, so like Zoe’s, searching Liam’s face. Then he crossed to the bike and tugged the keys from the ignition, sliding them into his pocket.
“Hey!”
“Tell me what happened and I’ll give them back,” Tom said.
“Nothing happened.”
“Bull.”
“Give me the keys, Tom. All you need to know is that I’m doing the right thing.”
“Sneaking off in the middle of the night? Yeah, really noble.”
“Give me the keys.” Liam moved forward, but Tom backed away.
“Tell me what’s going on.”
Liam swore and lunged at his friend. Tom dodged to the side.
“Tom…” Liam warned.
He lunged again, and again Tom slipped away.
“Tell me.”
“No.”
“Tell me.”
Liam feinted to the left then grabbed a handful of Tom’s shirt when he tried to veer right. They wrestled in silence, grabbing fistfuls of each other’s clothing, not wanting to hurt each other.
After a few minutes they broke apart. They eyed each other, fighting for breath. The words were in Liam’s throat and out his mouth before he could think twice.
“It’s Zoe,” he said. “I can’t stay because of Zoe.”
Tom frowned. “Because she’s got a crush on you? I know she can be a pain, but it’s not that bad…”
Liam stared at him, letting the silence grow. Tom jerked his head in sudden realization.
“No way,” he said, shaking his head.
“Nothing happened.”
Tom took a step away, then stepped forward again, still shaking his head.
“You and my sister? Tell me this is a joke.”
Liam knew what Tom was thinking. He’d heard Liam talk about girls, knew he’d had more than his fair share over the past few years. Knew Liam never stayed long after he got what he wanted.
“Nothing happened. I sent her back to the house before things got out of hand.”
“Jesus! What the hell was she doing alone with you anyway? How long has this been going on for?”
Liam shook his head. “It hasn’t. I mean, I’ve always liked her. But I’ve never touched her before.”
Tom swore and threw his hands in the air. “You touched my sister?”
“I didn’t screw her, if that’s what you’re thinking,” Liam said.
Tom’s fist came out of nowhere, connecting with Liam’s jaw and sending a flash of white pain up the side of his face. He staggered, then shook his head to clear the ringing in his ears.
“You asshole. Dammit, you asshole,” Tom said. “She’s fifteen. Fifteen!”
Liam held his ground. “That’s why I’m going.”
Tom dug his hand into his pocket. Liam caught a flash of silver as his motorbike keys flew toward his head. He was too slow to react and they grazed his cheekbone before hitting the ground. He felt a trickle of warmth on his face as he bent to retrieve them.
He offered Tom the letter again, but his friend eyed him coldly. Liam crossed to the mailbox and slid the envelope inside. It would have to do.
“For what it’s worth, I love her,” he said as he reached for his helmet.
Tom turned his back and walked up the driveway. Liam watched until he disappeared from sight, then rocked his bike off its stand and wheeled it to the end of the street.
The bike roared to life, the motor throbbing between his thighs. He didn’t look back as he twisted the throttle and sped down the street.
He’d made the right decision. He knew he had.
1
Twelve Years Later
LIAM FINGERED the single button on his jacket as he approached the well-lit entrance of Hartman’s Art Gallery. A woman in her thirties waited in the foyer, tall and elegant. Her platinum-blond bob swung around her jaw as she turned to face him, a welcoming smile on her face.