Love to Loathe Him: Chapter 29

There’s a war raging inside me and it’s not pretty.

My thirsty body is all for saying yes and letting Liam destroy me in the best possible way, yet again. Because apparently, I haven’t learned my lesson from the last time.

But my brain knows better tonight. And it’s not just about him being my boss.

If I’m being completely honest with myself, if I dig into the darkest, most hidden parts of my heart, I’ve had a crush on him since the moment I joined Ashbury Thornton. Yes, it was hidden under layers of anger, but it was still there. Took me weeks or maybe even months to look him straight in the eyes without stuttering.

And all this time I say it’s because I hate him. But I know it’s more than that. Even when he’s being a jerk to me, even when he’s made me want to rant and throw things, I’ve always been affected by him in this crazy, intense way.

And ever since we’ve slept together, he’s been on my mind nonstop. I can’t think straight. And this has to stop.

So despite every fiber of my being screaming “YES PLEASE,” I’m not going to let Liam ruin me in eleven different ways inside of his multimillion-pound fuck palace that I happen to know comes with a swimming pool.

Even though I’d love every second of it. Even though I know he can make me come so hard, I’d be screaming, begging for more, more, more. Even though I’d probably walk like John fucking Wayne for a week after, bow-legged from the sheer size and ferocity of his cock.

“I can’t,” I say, clenching my thighs together to ease the ache that’s building there.

I’m going back to my two-bedroom flat in Putney, with its modest bathtub and distinct lack of sexual debauchery.

I’m doing the right thing. I’m putting my career before cock, like the strong, independent woman I am.

“Okay.” Liam nods. Damn that poker face of his. “I can’t say I’m not disappointed, but I respect your decision.” He eyes my empty wineglass, and I feel a pang of something that might be regret. “Shall I get the bill?”

Wait, what? I say no to his indecent proposal, and suddenly he’s in a rush to leave?

I feel a flare of annoyance. “I say no to your arrangement, and you’re just like, ‘check, please’?”

“No, Gemma. It’s getting late, that’s all.”

I glance at my phone, my eyes widening when I see the time. Shit. It’s nearly midnight, and we have work tomorrow. Time flies when you’re turning down sexy propositions from your boss, apparently.

“Fair point,” I concede grudgingly.

Liam signals for the waiter. “Come on, I’ll take you home.”

“I can get the underground. I’m a big girl, I can make my own way home.”

He gives me a look. “I’m taking you home. End of discussion.”

I open my mouth to argue, but something stops me. Maybe it’s the wine. Maybe it’s the late hour. Or maybe it’s the tiny, treacherous part of me that doesn’t want this night to end just yet.

“You really don’t need to walk me right to my front door,” I say. “Is this your standard business meeting protocol? Because if so, I think HR might have something to say about that.”

He sighs. “This new honest Gemma sure is lippy.” But there’s a glint in his eye that suggests he enjoys my sass.

I hover awkwardly at the door. Obviously, I’m not inviting him in. “Well, good night. Thanks for dinner.”

“Meow.” Winnie announces her displeasure from behind the door.

Liam smirks. “Ah, the little voyeur.”

Winnie meows louder, like she’s agreeing with him.

“Oh god,” I groan, hiding behind my hands. “Can we please forget you know that?”

A crash sounds that makes me think she’s taken a running jump and slammed herself against the door. Lord, that cat is dramatic.

I quickly turn my key in the lock before she scratches the door down. She bursts out like she’s been shot from a cannon. But does she come to me, her loving owner who feeds her gourmet cat food? Oh no. She makes a beeline straight for Liam’s legs.

“Winnie,” I hiss, trying to grab her.

But Liam just chuckles, slowly bending down so as not to startle her. Then, with a gentleness that takes my breath away, he scoops her up into his arms, cradling her against his broad chest.

“Hey, baby,” he murmurs, his voice turning my insides to jelly. He strokes her fur, and she melts into him like a purring puddle of goo. Ugh, Winnie. Have some self-respect.

She blinks slowly at me, her eyes narrowed in feline smugness, then nuzzles her face into Liam’s chest, purring louder.

The little man stealer.

Thank goodness Lizzie’s out, or she’d be rubbing herself all over him too.

“Beautiful girl. You’re a feisty one, aren’t you? Just like your mum,” Liam says to Winnie, his voice low, like he’s sharing a secret with her.

Then he winks at me.

I blink. I’m kind of shocked to see Liam expressing so much affection for a living creature. Maybe he’s not a complete sociopath after all; they usually start by killing small animals before moving on to become CEOs.

“She’s very well-behaved,” he says, smile lines crinkling his face.

I narrow my eyes at Winnie, silently calling bullshit. “I caught her having sex the night I came home from sailing. Bold as brass, right on the front lawn.”

He chuckles. “And she’s not allowed to? Seems a bit unfair.”

“No, she’s not! I prefer to think of it as encouraging her to have high standards.”

“Poor thing,” he murmurs as he strokes Winnie’s fur. “Mummy’s just jealous because she wants some action of her own, but she’s too stubborn to let herself have it.”

Oh my. The way he says mummy, the way his eyes meet mine over Winnie’s head, makes my insides clench with want. This is messed up since he’s talking to my cat.

I swallow hard. “I never pegged you for a cat person.”

And then, because I’ve apparently lost all sense of self-preservation, I grab him by the collar, Winnie smooshed between us, and plant one on him.

He’s surprised, probably because he’s holding my cat and that’s not usually a precursor to a make-out session. Winnie’s surprised too, if her indignant yowl is anything to go by.

For a second, Liam doesn’t react, just stands there while I molest his face. But then I feel his mouth pushing against mine, his lips moving with fierce purpose, his stubble rasping deliciously against my skin.

He groans, the sound vibrating through me, and breaks the kiss, carefully setting Winnie down so she can escape our human mating dance. Then he turns back to me, his eyes blazing with a wicked gleam.

“You jealous of me giving your pussy attention, Gemma?”

“Get over yourself,” I scoff, but I’m already fisting my hands in his shirt and yanking him inside the flat clumsily, desperate for more.

This is bad. But I can’t help myself. Sorry, Winnie. Mummy’s about to get some action after all.

He responds with a savage groan that sets my nerve endings on fire, and then he’s slamming me back against the wall, his hands gripping my hips hard enough to bruise. I feel the hard length of him pressing insistently against my stomach, and it makes me quiver with anticipation.

God, I need this. I need him. My body has officially staged a coup against my mind, and I’m powerless to resist. He’s an arrogant banker—I’m not really at risk of falling for him. This is fine. This will be totally, blissfully fine.

“Wait,” Liam growls as I reach down to palm his erection through his trousers.

“What?” I blink up at him, my brain fuzzy with lust and expensive wine. “Why the hell are we stopping?”

“I need to go talk to James first.”

Liam’s driver. I’d completely forgotten about the poor sod waiting patiently out there in the car.

I glance out at the street, suddenly paranoid. Hopefully my hedge provides enough cover to hide the worst of our indecent activities.

It’s not like we’re full-on fucking against the wall.

Yet.

Liam disentangles himself from my needy clutches. “Wait here.”

He strides off confidently, his impressive boner leading the way, as I wait in the hallway with Winnie.

Oh my god, is he staying the night? I can’t even think that far ahead. I just need to let Liam McLaren make me see stars one more time. Then all rational thinking can recommence.

I scoop up Winnie, ignoring her meows of protest, and deposit her in the kitchen, tucking her into her bed where she should’ve been snoozing hours ago.

I race back to the hallway, my heart pounding and my skin buzzing with heat.

And there he is, filling my doorway. The look in his eyes, dark and intense and full of wicked promise, makes my chest heave.

He closes the door behind him with a click that echoes in the charged silence.

“Anyone else here?”

“Just Winnie,” I breathe. “I put her in the kitchen.”

For a moment we just stare at each other, the air between us crackling.

Then, in a heartbeat, Liam has me pinned against the wall, his body hard and hot against mine, his mouth claiming my lips in a bruising kiss.

Fuck, yes.

My hands are all over him, clutching at his shoulders, his chest, his hair, anything I can reach. I fumble with his shirt, my fingers clumsy with need, managing to open half the buttons through frantic kisses. I need to feel him. Right now.

He growls into my mouth and shoves my dress up to my waist, the fabric bunching around my hips, exposing my lace-clad pussy. Then he’s pushing his hands into my panties, his fingers diving through my wetness, and I’m bucking against him, seeking more, more, more.

I’m so wet. And I want him to feel it. I want to gush all over his hands, for him to feel me throb. I want him to know exactly what he does to me, the bastard.

“Oh god,” I cry into his mouth as his fingers slide inside me.

His sound of approval is visceral. “So wet and I haven’t even started.”

My hand palms over his erection, and then we’re both fumbling with his trouser buttons, our fingers clashing in our haste to get his cock out.

Finally, finally, he manages to shove his pants down. I barely have time to appreciate the sight before he’s lifting me up, his strong hands gripping my thighs as he hoists me against the wall.

I gasp, my legs automatically wrapping around his waist, my arms locking around his neck. The position is animalistic and so fucking hot I could spontaneously combust. And we haven’t even made it past the hallway.

His cock slides against my drenched panties.

With a display of strength that makes my insides turn to jelly, he pushes my panties aside with one hand, the other still holding me up against the wall like I weigh nothing.

But then he stills, his brow furrowing. “Shit,” he mutters, and for a moment, I’m afraid he’s come to his senses and realized that fucking his employee against her hallway wall might not be the best idea. “Condom.”

“I’m on the pill,” I blurt out. Oh my god, what am I doing? Am I really about to let Liam McLaren bare-back me? “Are you tested?”

“Yes,” he breathes. “I get regular tests. I’ve only been with one person since I was last tested—you.”

“Okay, good. Me too. I can’t wait any longer.” The words tumble out of my mouth in a breathless rush, my body screaming at me to just let him fuck me already.

“Are you sure about this?” he asks, his voice low and rough. “We don’t have to—”

“Yes,” I cut him off, digging my nails into his shoulders. Just do it before I remember all the reasons why we shouldn’t.

I moan as he starts to push inside me, spreading me wide open, filling me up with his thick girth and claiming me in the most primal way possible in one deep, perfect thrust.

Oh shit. This is really happening. We are full on fucking against the wall.

Liam McLaren is buried inside me, his chest pressing hard against mine, our heavy breaths mingling. It’s dirty and hot as hell.

He starts to move, thrusting until my legs are like Jell-O, and if he wasn’t holding me up, I’d be on the floor.

“Fuck, I need this,” he growls, his arousal evident in every pant and grunt. “You’ve had me wound up since we were on that damn boat.”

“That’s just because you’re not used to hearing people say no,” I pant. His dick hits that sweet spot and I can’t hold back. I moan so loudly, I’m sure the whole street knows what’s going on.

His face is flushed, the vein in his neck bulging like it’s about to burst out of his skin. His mouth hangs open, letting out these grunts that sound like they’re being ripped straight from his cock. Every single one of those guttural noises makes my core clench. This is sensory overload.

I can’t cope.

I can’t think.

I can barely breathe.

All I can do is feel.

“You’re not saying no too loudly now, are you?” he groans. His breath is hot on my face, mingling with mine until I can’t tell where mine ends and his begins. “See? Much better than your little fantasy. Lucky girl.”

If I had any wits about me, I’d want to slap that smirk right off his handsome face.

“Don’t flatter yourself, mister,” I breathe, even as my body betrays me, arching into his touch. “I hate myself for doing this. Your dick is the only thing I like about you. The rest of you is an asshole that I despise.”

He tries to chuckle, but it comes out more like a groan as he continues to pound into me. “Deny it all you want. But those pretty eyes of yours scream the truth for me. So does this body.” He punctuates his words with a thrust that has me seeing stars.

As if to punish me for my insolence, he slams into me harder, making every inch of my body jiggle. I should be mortified by the way my curves are shaking but I’m too lost in the sensation to give a single, solitary fuck.

“Fuck you,” I hiss, digging my nails into his back through his shirt. “Just because you’re a good lay doesn’t mean I like you as a person. You’re still an egotistical bastard with a god complex bigger than your fucking dick.”

“Nothing’s bigger than my fucking dick,” he breathes, doing this wicked movement with his hips that must be straight-up witchcraft because I’m shaking like a possessed person and I’m pretty sure the wall is going to need a new paint job after I’m done writhing all over it. “I’m an egotistical bastard that you desperately want to make you come.”

“Your ego’s bigger than your dick.”

“Stop misbehaving and tell me the truth.”

“What truth?” I gasp, barely able to form coherent words through the haze of pleasure.

“Beg for it, Gemma. I want to hear you beg.”

I bite my lip hard, trying to hold on to the last shreds of my dignity. But he knows exactly how to play my body until I’m a quivering, desperate mess.

“Fuck you, McLaren,” I pant, my voice ragged and broken. “Just make me come already, you sadistic prick. I need it. I need you. Is that what you want to hear? You win, okay? You win. Now finish what you started.”

“Good girl.” He smirks, and then his mouth is on mine, swallowing my moans as he drives me over the edge. Not quite kissing but breathing hard against my lips. I don’t think the man kisses. That would be too romantic. He just fucks.

He does good on his word. And with one final thrust, he obliges, sending me over the edge and into pure bliss.

Then he stills, his hand holding my hips, and there’s something thrilling about the way he’s holding me in place, knowing I can’t escape.

He comes hard inside me, and the hot sensation of his release makes me shiver.

We stay still for what feels like minutes our heavy breaths mingling together, him still inside me, until he finally lowers me down. I’m drenched in sweat and cum is dripping down my inner thighs.

“That was . . . something else,” he says, his voice sounding like he’s just gargled with a mouthful of gravel. He’s still panting, but somehow managing to look composed, like he didn’t just fuck me six ways to Sunday against my wall.

“That’s one thing we agree on,” I croak out, wondering if my legs will ever function properly again.

He smirks, keeping me pinned to the wall. “So, how many rooms does this place have?”

I pause for a moment, my sex-addled brain struggling to process the question. Is he seriously asking about my flat’s layout right now?

Then it hits me, and I laugh. “Let’s see . . . Including the storage closet where I keep the iron? Six.”

“Six rooms, huh? That’ll do. For a start.”